Harlequin Love Inspired Suspense March 2021--Box Set 2 of 2 by Dana Mentink (good fiction books to read .txt) 📕

of the beach. Her insides vibrated and she struggled to focus on her options. One more step and she’d sink into the water, which had to be a good eight-feet deep. The current would drag her right into the rapids. She situated herself in a crouch. The wind gusted and a wave slapped her back and neck, the sudden chill hard to ignore.

If she tried to climb the rocks to get to the wooded area, her head would be exposed, but she couldn’t stay put. Should the gunman walk this way, she’d be an easy target. The raft Dexter had precariously parked on top of loose rock between two boulders sat a few feet away. His reckless, lazy choice might be her only chance at survival.

The only way off Sandy Cape was on the raft, through The Killer. She’d never be able to say the name of the rapids with a laugh again. Trying to stay crouched while crawling up the loose rock proved useless. Gravity pulled her back toward the water. Her outstretched fingers snagged the perimeter rope threaded through the D-rings on the outside of the raft. The boat skated down after her, taking a handful of rocks with it.

She managed to sidestep just enough to dive into the raft and hunker down on the floor. The current grabbed the boat instantly. It wasn’t the safest place to be as she approached the rapids, but it was safer than being hit by a bullet.

Nora propped up on her knees and clutched the handles of the two oars while trying to stay low. The rapids would be even harder to manage with only her weight in the raft, which was big enough for four people. She stole a glance at the beach. Was the gunman coming after her in the kayak she’d left behind? Or would he try to climb the rocks and shoot at her again?

A three-foot wave collapsed over the bow of the raft, flipping it over. Her fingers grazed the outside of the boat as it tipped over, catching the perimeter rope as water rushed over her head. She fought against the aerated water that wanted to toss her about under the surface. The moment her head broke free, she pulled in a breath and held tight to the taut rope. Almost on autopilot, she managed to flip the raft and hoist herself up and into it. That second-long glance at the beach had cost her.

She laid flat, sputtering, until she caught her breath. But there was no time to waste as the worst of the rapids was still to come. She pushed upright on one knee, twisted into a seated position at the back and grabbed the oars. Gunman or not, she would die if she didn’t focus on the turbulent waters.

The river had changed with the snowmelt and she needed to find a current to take to get out of the rapids as soon as possible. Interlocking ridges and valleys bordered the Sauvage River. If she waited even a half mile more downriver to get out, she would enter a canyon and, without other people to help her maneuver the large raft, there were would be no easy exit off the water for miles.

She needed to call for help but couldn’t afford to take a hand off an oar. The safest path to land would take her to the same side of the river as the gunman. Almost like a giant V in the river, another path presented itself, barely skirting a boulder poking out of the water. With four quick strokes, Nora maneuvered into the current and braced herself to stay on top of the roller coaster of waves. A minute later, instead of laughing—like all rafters after an exhilarating ride—she stumbled out of the raft onto a north-side bank.

Pulling in giant breaths and spinning to look over her shoulder every few steps, she dragged the raft up behind her. Her chest heaved and her eyes burned, but she refused to stop and cry. She couldn’t. What if Dexter was still alive? She hadn’t actually seen him get shot, but she’d heard it, seen him fall. If there was a chance he could be saved, every second counted.

Her shaky hands unzipped the pocket on the side of her suit. The satellite phone didn’t always grab a signal near the high canyon walls and thick tree canopy. Please. She dialed and, mercifully, the county dispatcher answered.

Nora didn’t wait for questions. “A man shot one of my guides at Sandy Cape.” She stepped into the cover of the trees, watching the river for signs she’d been followed. “I don’t know if he’s still alive or not.” Her body started trembling, then her arms and legs began shaking more violently. Likely from the frigid water and the adrenaline. A natural reaction, she told herself. She tried inhaling and exhaling deeply to calm her mind so her body would relax, but it wasn’t working. Her teeth chattered. “The shooter might follow me. I left my kayak there. I had to.”

“Ma’am, where are you now?”

“Um—” Nora turned around “—the emergency take-out. Closest to Clair Creek.”

“Okay, can you make your way to the road? I have an officer en route to you.”

“Yes, but you also need to send someone to Sandy Cape—”

“Ma’am, Sandy Cape is only accessible by boat. I’ve got a call out to the forest service and the search and rescue team.”

Sandy Cape was on US Forest Service land, all south of the river. Nora took measured steps through the overgrown foliage, around slippery rocks and past crooked pine trees, until she spotted the thin dirt trail only used when a rafter had to finish early. She was currently north of the river, on Bureau of Land Management property. She trudged forward, the phone still against her ear. The search and rescue team was based in the small town of Sauvage, six miles north of her rafting company. They were well trained, but all volunteers with day