Max slid down again. “Bastard!”

Laughter echoed across the lake. “No… that would be you, brother.”

His head whipped around, and in that split second, Max found himself staring back at Quinlan. His stepbrother stood on the road, close to the black truck, with a gun in his hand. A gun pointed right at Max.

“Move toward her again,” Quinlan said, “and I’ll put a hole in your chest.” And he smiled. Smiled.

The cold water lapped at Max with greedy, grasping hands.

I-I wanted to die. By the fifth time, I begged to die.

Hell, no, he wouldn’t leave Samantha in that water. “Then shoot, a**hole, shoot!” Max dove under the water, ignoring the pain in his shoulder and the agonizing throb in his leg.

Bullets blasted into the river, shooting around him. He struck out, swimming awkwardly because his leg was nearly useless. Get to the car. Get her.

His hand struck metal. The VW. He grabbed the door, wrenching it open more and—

Fingers touched his. Soft.

Samantha was there, kicking out of the car as bubbles rose from her lips. Max grabbed her. Pulling her close, he sealed his lips to hers, and gave her the last breath he’d taken.

Her body shuddered against his. He knew that she wanted to kick up. The surface was temptingly close.

But so was Quinlan. The brother he’d tried to protect. The one who wanted to kill him and his lover.

They couldn’t swim straight up. They’d be perfect targets. He’ll take us out as fast as he can, and leave us in the water.

An easy way to dispose of their bodies.

Samantha kicked against him, trying to rise, but he wrapped his arms around her, held tight, and pushed her down.

Her eyes opened, wide and panicked as she stared at him. He shook his head, needing her to understand. Desperate for her to see…

But there was fear on her face because he was shoving her farther down, farther…

A thick line of woods waited on the eastern side. If he could get them closer to the bank, they might have a chance to run for it. Better than nothing. He pushed her toward that side and kicked as best he could as they fought the current.

But Max had used all his strength to push her, and the bullet wounds were taxing him, draining him fast. His lungs burned, and he knew they’d have to rise soon.

The fire in his lungs burned hotter. Samantha’s eyes were on his. Wide. Dark.

So beautiful. Maybe the last thing that he’d ever see would be her pale face surrounded by the floating cloud of her hair.

Another bubble slipped past her lips.

They had to take a breath. Max kicked up. She kicked too, fast and desperate, and they drove up toward the surface.

Before he broke through the water, Max knew they weren’t far enough away. Not even close. But maybe Quinlan would be looking the wrong way. Looking toward the spot where the car went down.

Just need a few moments.

The water lightened. He could see the bright rays of the sun. Close, so close.

They burst through the surface. They both sucked in deep gulps of air as hard as they could. Max spun around, shoving her behind him, because there wouldn’t be much time.

His eyes found Quinlan. He saw his brother whirl toward them—saw him lift the gun and smile. Max braced himself as he got ready to take the third hit.

The thunder of the gun almost deafened him. But that hadn’t been Quinlan’s gun. It had been Samantha’s. She’d lifted her arm out of the water and fired the small weapon he’d never even seen when he’d pulled her from the car. Quinlan staggered back with a look of utter shock on his face. Blood ballooned on his chest in a thick, wide circle, and he fell back into the water, slipping out of sight.

Samantha’s hand was rock steady, and the gun stayed pointed at the spot where his brother had been standing seconds before.

Max’s breath panted out, matching hers, and he looped his arm around her waist as he pulled her close.

“We’ve got to go,” she whispered, her lips feathering against his neck. “We have to, Max. I-I don’t think he’s dead.”

He started struggling for the shore.

“I… lost my glasses… couldn’t see…” She choked a bit, sputtering water.

His feet hit the rocky bottom. “Go to my car,” he ordered, aware that the liquid dripping down his body wasn’t all water. “Go…. I’ll be…”

He fell, half in the water, half on the shore.

“Max?” Her hands were on him. “Max, you’ve been shot!”

He struggled to his knees. “Go!”

“Not without you.” She tried to grab him, and he realized she was holding her gun with her left hand because the right hand hung limp. Broken.

And blood oozed from the cuts on her forehead and on her arms.

I’ll kill him. The brother he’d tried so hard to protect. The monster hiding in plain sight.

They staggered together and managed to get up the damn slope. Samantha had her gun. She was ready, sweeping the area for Quinlan, but that little bastard wasn’t anywhere to be seen.

“Need your phone,” Samantha whispered.

“Fucker had me throw it out.” He’d get her to his car, force her inside, then find Quinlan. Get the gun. The gun he’d taken from Samantha was inside the rental car. He’d get it, leave her with the weapon she had, and finish this nightmare.

Max pushed forward. His left leg dragged behind him and his arm lay across Samantha’s shoulder. She shuddered against him. Wet, fragile. He had to bite back the rage that threatened to choke him. Quinlan had gone after her.

In the water. Fuck. Her worst nightmare.

The car waited just steps away. Max’s gaze raked the area, left to right. Where was Quinlan? Where?

Max didn’t speak. He shoved forward through the pain. Then he was at his car. Finally. He yanked open the door, pushed Samantha inside—

A loud, furious shout froze him. Max spun around and saw Quinlan running from behind the black truck. The gun wasn’t in his hand anymore; maybe he’d lost it in the water. Quinlan held a knife. The edge gleamed, reflecting the light as Quinlan charged right at them.

Samantha pushed away from the car and lifted her gun. “Drop it!” Her own scream vibrated with rage. “Don’t make me do it, Quinlan, don’t make me—”

But he kept running toward her.

Samantha squeezed the trigger, but this time the gun just made a snick. Water droplets flew to the ground but the damn gun didn’t fire.

Jammed. Shit. She’d been lucky the gun fired the first shot. The water—

Quinlan raised the knife high up into the air. Max shoved Samantha to the ground, and the knife caught him, slashing across the back of his arm.

“Always thought you were better…” Quinlan rasped at him. “Fucking show you… f**king show everyone…”

The knife swung again and sliced across Max’s arm as he tried to hold off his brother.

Bile rose in his throat but Max managed to dodge the next blow. He grabbed Quinlan’s wrist, holding tight, keeping the blade up and away from his face. “You need help! Don’t you see that?”

Samantha rose to her feet behind Quinlan. She dove into the car, and Max knew that she was going for the other gun.

“You weren’t always like this,” Max whispered, wishing it had been different, wishing everything had just been different. “You weren’t a killer—”

“But you were.” The knife glinted. “And Frank thought you were perfect.” The blade was inches from Max’s face.

Max shoved up and managed to heave his brother back.

“You won’t be perfect when I’m finished,” Quinlan promised as he launched himself at Max. They slammed onto the earth.

Max tried to hold his brother tight but his hands were slick with blood, and Quinlan was twisting and fighting beneath him. Rolling, Quinlan rose with the blade.

Quinlan’s gaze met Max’s. Then his stepbrother smiled and thrust the knife into Max’s stomach.

“No!” Samantha screamed.

Max slumped back on the ground, and a cold wind touched his skin.

“Max!” Samantha’s desperate voice rose above Quinlan’s laughter.

Max could have sworn that he heard the wail of sirens in the distance.

Quinlan licked his lips. “It’s mine—every bit was mine… and I was sick of waiting for that bastard to die.”

Max shook his head and gathered his strength. The blade would be coming at him again, and he had to be ready.

“Drop it,” came Samantha’s furious, shaking voice. “Drop it, Quinlan, or I swear I’ll put a bullet through your heart.”

CHAPTER Eighteen

Fear shook her body, but Sam held the gun rock steady. Max was barely moving. So much blood. And that prick with the knife wasn’t going to hurt him again. He wasn’t going to hurt anyone.

“It’s over,” Sam said, creeping closer.

“No…” Quinlan’s voice was soft. “It’s just beginning.”

Not for you. Because this gun wouldn’t jam. Sam took another cautious step forward. “You hear those sirens?”

And his head snapped up as he actually seemed to hear their wails for the first time.

“It’s the SSD. They’re coming for you.”

Quinlan rose and faced her head on. That’s right. Step away from Max. The sirens were so close. Hurry.

Max pushed up to his knees. She didn’t let her gaze dart to him because Quinlan still had a knife, and he was edging closer to her. “It’s over,” Sam said again.

“Bitch!” Then Quinlan seemed to crack right before her eyes. He screamed and lunged at her with fingers tight around the knife.

“Samantha!” Max’s shout. Her gaze flew to him. His eyes were full of terror and fury. As he struggled to his feet, Sam saw that his lips were moving but she couldn’t clearly hear what he was yelling because the sirens were screeching so loudly now and Quinlan was screaming as he—

“It’s over,” she whispered and pulled the trigger. The bullet slammed into Quinlan—not his heart but his arm, the arm that held the knife. He howled in pain as the knife flew from his fingers and slid down the embankment.

“No!” he bellowed.

Sam watched as he wrapped his fingers around the wound.

Brakes squealed as the squad cars and unmarked SSD vehicles swarmed into the area. Backup had arrived.

She didn’t lower her gun, though. She kept it aimed right at Quinlan. “It’s not going to be that easy,” she told him, her voice soft. No death by cop for him. He’d pay for his crimes.

“Sam!” Hyde’s yell, and she’d never been so happy to hear that man’s voice in her whole life.

“Get an ambulance,” she called, trembling. The icy water had robbed her of every last bit of warmth, and each time she spoke, puffs of white appeared before her mouth.

Quinlan’s head dropped. “Not ending like this! Not ending like—”

The agents closed in on him. “Quinlan Malone,” Luke Dante’s voice snapped out, “you’re under arrest.”

Sam’s breath expelled in a hard rush. Max. She lowered the gun and tried to force her fingers to ease their too-tight grip on the weapon. They hurt. Every part of her hurt. And Max, oh, God, Max, all that blood—

“Easy.” Hyde was there, standing right in front of her. He pried the gun from her fingers. “Agent Kennedy… Sam, are you all right?”

Her teeth were chattering. The bone-deep cold shook every part of her body. “M-Max…” He was the only thing that mattered to her right then. He’d gone into the water for her. He’d actually used his own body as a shield to protect her.

Been willing to die, for me.

And she’d been more than willing to kill for him.

She hurried over and fell to her knees beside him. His eyes were open. So blue.

She touched his cheek.

“Get the EMTs over here now!” Hyde barked.

“You can’t do this!” Quinlan yelled. “I’m the victim, I’m—”

“You’re a killer,” Dante said, the words drifting to her.

Sam leaned in close to Max. His skin was so pale, and the same shudders that shook her body were shaking his. Too cold. “It’s going to be okay,” she whispered. “We’re safe now.”

Safe. But death had come so close.

Hands pulled at her, trying to tug her away from Max. The EMTs. She let him go even as tears tracked down her cheeks.

Then she was being guided to a stretcher. One of the EMTs started probing her wounds, and lights flashed in a red-and-blue whirl around her.

Voices droned on, but she could only clearly hear the chatter of her teeth and the fast beat of her heart.

They loaded her into the ambulance, covered her in blankets and secured her in the back. The EMTs pushed Max in next to her. Max’s head turned, and his gaze met hers.

Someone slammed the back doors.

Max’s hand lifted and reached for her. She caught his fingers, held tight. When the ambulance lurched forward, she didn’t let go.

She never wanted to let go.

“M-Max, I love you,” she whispered, needing to say the words, desperate to say them. But his lashes had fallen shut, and she knew he hadn’t heard her.

Patching Sam up was easy. The cuts on her face just needed cleaning and bandages. Her right wrist was set and put in a splint, and the docs put fifteen stitches in her left arm. They bundled her up, got her body temperature back on track, and she finally managed to stop shaking.

And started demanding to see Max.

But it wasn’t as easy to patch him back up. Two hours later, Sam was still waiting to see him. Fear tightened her insides. Be all right. You have to be—