The Bride's Secrets. Debra Webb

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      A rip through the water jerked her attention to her right. She couldn’t see anything but she recognized the sound.

      Gunfire.

      Damn.

      She dove deeper. Pushed through the dark depths, headed for the craggy shoreline in the distance. The goal was to get as far from the dock—and the reach of the enemy—as possible before surfacing.

      J.T. cut through the water next to her.

      She hoped like hell his strength would hold out.

      Her lungs burned.

       Just move.

      She pushed harder.

      Bullets sliced through the water.

      To her right…too close.

      Damn.

      She swam harder. Kept her body beneath the murky surface when the urge to rise grew stronger.

       Fight the urge to breathe.

       Push! Keep going!

      One last lunge forward.

      She needed air.

      Her face broke the surface.

      Gasping for oxygen, she swam hard. Stroke after stroke. Harder. Push!

      Her fingertips brushed the rocks of the shore.

      Almost there.

      Where the hell was J.T.?

      She whipped around.

      He’d surfaced, was breathing hard. Not close enough for her comfort.

      The dark figures on the dock were still firing. The bullets cut through the surface of the water. The muffled sound told her they were using silencers.

      That was to her benefit. Silencers decreased the accuracy of every shot and lessened the range. Still, they weren’t in the clear just yet.

      She grabbed for the rocks. Scrambled through the darkness. Bumped her knee on a boulder. Cursed. Move! Move!

      Burrowing into the waist-deep grass, she crawled forward. Faster. Pushed harder. She needed as much distance as possible.

      Shots pinged on the rocks.

      She zigzagged to avoid any stray shots that made it this far.

      J.T. scrambled alongside her.

      He was breathing hard.

      They had to stay close to the ground until they reached the next row of warehouses. Even though she was relatively certain they were out of range at this point, she wasn’t taking any risks.

      And she wasn’t slowing down.

      J.T. had to keep up.

      The splat of a bullet hitting the ground next to her had her rolling left. Maybe they weren’t completely out of range.

      She bumped J.T. He grunted.

      His injured arm. Damn it.

      She could apologize later.

      Half a dozen more yards.

      Almost in the clear.

      As she reached the cover of the alley between the first two warehouses, she tensed.

      Silence.

      She glanced back at the dock.

      Deserted.

      The enemy was on the move.

      Time to run.

      Her car was parked another block down.

      Pushing to her feet, she sprinted forward. The wet bag dragged at her shoulder. Her soggy shoes weighed down her feet.

      She ignored both.

      By the time she reached the lot where her car was parked, she had dug the keys from her pocket and clicked the fob.

      Seconds later she was behind the wheel.

      She hit the ignition as J.T. collapsed into the passenger seat.

      Tires squealed as she spun out of the parking slot.

      “What the hell did you do to me?”

      From the corner of her eye she watched him shake his head in an attempt to clear it.

      He wouldn’t be happy when she told him about the tranquilizer.

      She’d needed him cooperative; otherwise no plan would work. A drug-induced state of unconsciousness had been the fastest and most efficient method to ensure his continued solidarity.

      “I can’t really talk right now.” She weaved into the right lane as the street widened to four lanes. What she needed was traffic. It was Saturday night—shouldn’t be that difficult to find as soon as they were out of the old warehouse district.

      A glance in the rearview mirror warned that their unwanted company had caught up.

      Sensing her tension, J.T. turned to peer over his left shoulder.

      “I hope you have a plan B.”

      She shot him a look. “There’s always plan G.” Then she pulled the Glock out of her waistband.

      Cutting the steering wheel left, she slid between two vehicles. Veering then to the right, she put several cars between hers and the enemy.

      She was betting they wouldn’t pull out the firepower in the open like this, but a woman could never be too sure when it came to an unknown enemy.

      Deep blending was the way to go.

      Two traffic lights ahead the marquis of a movie theater provided exactly the opportunity she was looking for.

      The digital numbers of the dashboard’s clock indicated it was just past midnight. Perfect timing. The late movie would be purging its audience into the crowd of teenagers who liked hanging out in the parking lot.

      Plenty of cover for blending in.

      She took a hard right onto the property that sported a twelve-screen theater, numerous fastfood hot spots and a chain superstore. Speeding across the lot, she selected a lane of parking slots. Pulling in as close to the theater entrance as possible, she shut off the engine and reached for her door.

      “Let’s go.”

      Thankfully he didn’t argue.

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