Fast Burn (Body Armor #4)(84)

Ducking down behind a damp cluster of barren trees, Brand withdrew his gun—and a strong flashlight. If necessary, he could use the light to distinguish Sahara from anyone else.

They both heard the rustling of leaves as a body emerged from the right. Tall, dressed in a black slicker with a hat pulled low. Brand tensed.

Sahara shot out of her seat, the umbrella held limply at her side. “Scott!”

The intruder’s arms opened and Sahara flew into them. Brand saw her feet leave the ground as the man hugged her hard, both of them oblivious to the rain.

Suddenly Sahara was sobbing, and Brand felt everything inside him clench in pain. He’d never thought to hear her cry like that, but now she wept with the same enthusiasm that she did everything else.

Her brother whispered, “Shh, shhh. I’m sorry, sis. So damn sorry.”

Sahara slugged him, then shoved out of his arms. “They told me you were dead!”

“I know.” He grabbed her in for another hug. “I had no choice, and I promise I can explain everything.”

“You could have told me you were alive!”

“No, I couldn’t tell anyone. I knew certain people would be watching you, and I’m sorry, hon, but you’re an open book.” He framed her face. “I didn’t expect you to deny it, though, and to send a damned PI haunting my every step.”

Sahara drew a shuddering breath. “You can come home now?”

“Not yet, but hopefully soon.” Taking the umbrella from her and holding it over them both, Scott led her back to the log.

Brand had to keep reminding himself that this was her brother, a brother she adored, so he couldn’t dismember the guy for making her cry.

But he wanted to.

“I can’t believe it’s raining.” Scott sat with his arm around her, his head tipped to rest on the top of hers. “You’re warm enough?”

She nodded, sniffled and dug out a tissue. “Yes. Where have you been, Scott?”

“Everywhere. Always on the move. Hiding.” He stretched out his legs and heaved a sigh. “That night on the yacht... I was supposed to die.” He touched his ribs. “The bastards stabbed me, but though it bled like crazy, it was only a superficial wound.”

“Stabbed?” With new tears making her voice thick, she asked, “You’re sure you’re all right?”

He nodded. “I dove overboard before they could do more damage. It was so dark, you couldn’t see past the yacht’s lights. None of them knew anything about boating, so they kept watching the water where I’d gone in.” He hugged her. “They didn’t expect me to surface at the stern.”

Sahara gasped. “The life raft!”

“You know I kept it strapped on the transom for easy access. They were excited, all talking at once, so they didn’t hear me unfasten it. Even once I had it, I kept swimming away from the boat.”

“You were bleeding?” she asked with a tremor in her voice.

“Yeah, and I don’t mind telling you, every shark movie I’d ever seen kept playing in my head.”

Asshole, Brand wanted to shout. Why give her the gruesome details now? She was already upset. Scott should be reassuring her, not adding to her nightmare memories.

“I was still pushing farther away when they started the motor and drove away from me. Then I inflated the raft and made my way to shore.”

“You keep saying them and they. Who was it, Scott? Who did this to us?”

A gust of wind rode in off the river, causing the leaves over Brand’s head to shudder, spilling more rain down on him. He swiped a hand over his face, determined to keep Sahara in his sights at all times.

He watched as Scott struggled with the umbrella.

“Let’s talk in your car,” he said.

She agreed, but just as they stood, all hell broke loose.

Two men exploded out of the bushes, guns in hand and shouting orders.

Brand started to lunge forward, but something solid hit him in the back of the head. He dropped to his knees, lost his hold on the flashlight, but maintained consciousness by a thread. The bastards had a strobe light and that, along with the shouting, added to the confusion. He could hear yelling, heard Sahara’s distinctive voice cursing someone and then he heard a gunshot.

His heart went into his throat—until Sahara screamed, “Scott!”

She sounded equal parts panicked and pissed, but not hurt.

Knowing Leese, Miles and Justice were already on their way, Brand shoved to his feet. Through the wildly flashing light, he saw the men racing toward a small motorboat moored on the shore. In another bright flash he saw that one man had an arm locked around Sahara’s throat, dragging her toward it.

“No!” He ran full tilt, stumbling twice because of the knock on the head, falling once onto the wet, loamy ground. He didn’t stay down even when he heard Leese call his name.

The motor revved on the boat and it shot out to the river. Too many bodies filled that small boat, one of them Sahara’s. He didn’t dare shoot, not with her in the mix of the turmoil.

A gunshot sounded from the boat, and a second later he heard a snarled “Bitch!” along with the sounds of a scuffle.

“Sahara!”

“Take care of Scott,” she shouted, the words muffled by the wind and rain.

“Scott’s dead,” someone said with a laugh.