Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense March 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 Dana Mentink (e books free to read TXT) 📖

“Then let me try, Nora.”

She remembered all the kayak races they used to enjoy before his accident, but there was no time for reflection. “When I say go, I need you to swim as hard as you can and get on top of the branch.”

His lips had turned a purplish shade, but his cheeks were still flushed. “I’m not leaving you behind!”

She twisted, frantically released the throw bag, and pulled out the rescue rope, still gripping the end. Her fingers trembled with the cold as she fought to weave it through the sleeves of her life jacket and knot it at the front.

“I’m not exactly at my peak condition, Nora.”

“We’ve got a better chance together than separately, and we’re running out of time. We’ve got one shot.” She pressed her shoulder into his, kicking her left leg out to keep them away from the undertow against the rock face.

She grabbed the current and they slid around the sharp angle of the south-facing rock wall. The soft rumble of the thin waterfall just around the corner stirred up mist. “Go. Now!”

She shoved him with as much strength as she could muster, also flipping over and kicking, doing her best to follow him. Her muscles were spent already and so cold. Her brain told her limbs to move faster and faster, but yet they reacted like they were in quicksand.

Henry seemed to be struggling as well, but he was already six feet ahead of her. She fought to lift her head high enough to pull in a breath before a wave slapped her helmet, veering her off course. The rope tugged. She rolled sideways, the pull of the water twisting her despite her forceful kicks.

“Nora!”

The rope tugged again, and she looked down to see the knot unraveling, loosening. She grabbed the rope with one hand. A wave sloshed over her head and she fought against the conflicting currents, desperate to keep hold of the rope.

She launched forward at an unbelievable speed, no longer fighting, but sliding under water, almost like she was flying. She lifted her head up and pulled in a greedy breath, only to feel Henry’s hands gripping the top of her life jacket. He lifted her onto the tree branch, much thicker in diameter and longer in length than she’d guessed. As soon as her stomach hit the rough bark, she wriggled her way to sitting, bouncing the log precariously on one end, but Henry leaned the opposite way, ensuring it’d stay afloat.

“I knew you could do it,” she whispered, trying to give her lungs and heart a chance to catch up.

He panted, his chest heaving with the effort of trying to catch his breath. “Failure wasn’t an option. Now what?”

“Your legs face north. Mine will face south. Our feet will have to act like oars.” She loved the river, but if she could go a day without having to dip a body part into frigid waters, that would be great. “Ready?”

She gave out commands, straining her abdominals, as she had to lean backward in an awkward move to make her legs forceful enough to mimic a paddle. The log soared across the water, keeping them from the danger of an undertow, and smacked against the sand.

She rolled head-over-heels, falling flat onto her back on the ground. Henry had managed to stay upright, facing the log. He offered his hand and pulled her upright. “Thanks for saving my life.” She brushed the sand off her legs, which would likely be covered in bruises by nightfall from all the trauma of the day.

Henry stared deeply into her face, his eyes full of emotion, as if trying to hold back a secret.

“Are you okay?”

“Yes.” He blinked and nodded, then turned away, scanning the empty bank. “Let’s see if Carl and Bobby are here.”

“The gunman—”

“I prefer to stay positive. Besides, the shooter seemed to have it in for me instead of you this time. There’s a chance this has become personal and the others aren’t in danger.”

His words shot fear straight to her heart, but he wasn’t wrong. Not once had a bullet come her way even though she’d been just as much in the shooter’s sights as Henry. In fact, so much so, she had made herself take a good look as she’d swum to the other side.

“He had on a face covering, like the other two incidents, but we both know how common those masks are. This guy had a different build than Dexter’s murderer, I’m sure of it. He was more tall and wiry.”

Henry raised an eyebrow, his skepticism evident. “When adrenaline hits the—”

She folded her chilled arms across her chest. “Don’t make me prove everything I see all over again.”

His face went slack, like when he was trying to hide his surprise, and she knew he was finally listening. “Dexter’s murderer was average height and slim. I know that’s nothing specific,” she added hastily, seeing his mouth open. “But the shooter who went after us at the bank had broad shoulders, a more athletic build. Still slim, but almost like he was wearing shoulder pads. More like the man who shoved me down in the lodge. The guy who shot at us just now was tall and wiry.”

Henry’s jawline pulsed, either from trying to keep his teeth from chattering or grinding his teeth together. She used to kiss his jaw when he’d tense up like that. Nora swung her gaze to the trees, blinking rapidly at the unexpected thought. The cold had frozen a little too many brain cells, that was all. “What if they aren’t here?” she asked. “What do we do?”

“Honestly, I don’t know.” He tipped his head. “I’m not looking forward to going down the river without a raft again.”

“That’s not an option.” She took a deep breath. “The rapids after this are too intense to float without a boat. And if, somehow, we missed Sangster Creek and the final take-out—they both have small windows—then we’d find ourselves in the final