If Lance could take Kim and her gun out of the picture, Sharp would be able to handle the injured Stephen. Lance tightened his grip around the rock. The gun in her hands was a semiautomatic. If he missed, she could shoot them all in a couple of seconds.

Stephen opened the cargo doors of the van.

Kim gestured toward Sharp. “Now pick her up and put her in the van.”

“No.” Sharp planted his body-armor-clad self in front of Olivia. “You just said you were going to kill us all. I’m not going to make it easier for you.”

With her gaze locked on Sharp, Kim lifted the gun and looked down the sight. “Are you volunteering to go first?”

Sharp didn’t move. Lance whipped the rock at Kim with a vicious overhand. He was barely ten feet away. It struck her on the side of the face. Her head snapped around. She stumbled sideways, bobbling the gun. Lance lunged at her. Stephen tried to block him, but Lance knocked him aside with his shoulder and kicked him in the balls. Stephen hit the dirt like a sandbag.

Lance kept moving. Five feet. He almost had her.

A hand grabbed his ankle. He went down on his face in the dirt. Looking back, Lance saw Stephen, still lying on the ground and holding his boot with both hands. Lance kicked him in the face. “Let go!”

Fresh blood spurted. Stephen groaned and went limp.

Lance scrambled to one knee. Kim whipped the handgun around and pointed it at him. He rolled, trying to get out of the path of her aim, but there was no close cover.

A gunshot rang out over the woods. Lance froze. To his shock, so did Kim. She hadn’t fired the shot. Who had?

“Stop!”

Lance knew that voice. They all turned their heads. Morgan stood about eight feet behind Kim, her own gun leveled at the literary agent’s body. Relief, pride, and love all surged through his chest. Morgan still had his back, as always, despite the fact that Lance had deliberately removed her from the action.

“Put down the gun, or I will shoot you,” Morgan said.

Kim didn’t move for a few seconds. Was she considering not surrendering? Even if Morgan wasn’t an excellent shot—which she was—Kim would be hard to miss at that range. Was Kim suicidal? Morgan had once shot a man in a similar situation. She was not a violent woman, unless someone she loved was threatened.

But Kim was desperate. She dropped to the ground and swung the gun 180 degrees—pointing it right back at Morgan.

Two shots rang out, almost simultaneously.

Morgan stumbled backward. Her hand went to her ribs. She’d been shot.

No!

His gaze swung back to Kim. She was scrambling to her feet and stumbling toward the woods. Her gun lay on the ground. Morgan missed?

“Kim!” Stephen shouted in a weak voice.

But Kim didn’t even look back at her brother’s pathetic call.

Ignoring Kim, Lance refocused on Morgan. She was holding her side and gasping. Was she bleeding? Panicking, he surged to his feet and started toward her. But she recovered before he could reach her. Then she did what he least expected: she sprinted right past him faster than he thought she could run.

“I’ve got Stephen!” Sharp yelled, heading for Kim’s brother and collecting Kim’s gun on the way.

Shocked, Lance lost a second before starting after Morgan. Kim had slowed, and Morgan caught her in a few strides. She reached forward and shoved Kim’s shoulder. The agent tipped forward and face-planted, sliding in the weeds. Morgan was on her in a second, landing hard, then planting a knee in the agent’s lower back.

Lance caught up as Morgan forced the agent’s arms behind her. She glanced over her shoulder. “Do you have zip ties?”

“I do.” Lance handed them over.

Morgan secured Kim’s hands. Then she sat back on her heels, breathing hard.

Lance crouched next to her, shoving up the hem of her jacket. “Are you hurt?”

When his hands hit the body armor, he exhaled. “You’re wearing your vest.”

“You saw me put it on.” Morgan took off her jacket and vest.

“I forgot.” Lance had panicked.

She lifted the hem of her shirt. “I feel like I was hit with a hammer.”

“You’re going to have a big-ass bruise.” Which Lance was grateful for.

“I’ll take it.” Morgan lowered her shirt.

Lance rolled Kim to her back. Blood bloomed from her shoulder. Morgan hadn’t missed. They’d hit each other, but Morgan had been wearing a vest and Kim had not.

Wounded, Kim had run on sheer adrenaline. Lance patted her down for more weapons and found a folding knife in her jacket pocket. Taking it, he glanced back at Sharp, who had secured Stephen’s hands. Stephen didn’t look like he was going to do anything except maybe vomit. But Sharp checked his pockets and zip-tied his ankles together anyway, then returned to Olivia.

Lance hauled Kim to her feet and marched her back to the clearing. He sat her down.

“I’m bleeding,” she complained.

With a sigh, Lance took the scarf Morgan wore to camouflage her pale face and tied it around Kim’s shoulder.

“The police are on their way,” Morgan said. “How is Olivia?”

“Not good.” Sharp turned to her. Olivia’s breathing was strained. She wheezed and whistled with each breath. He touched her face, and she opened her eyes. Olivia lifted a hand and reached for Sharp. He closed his fingers around hers as the sound of approaching sirens filled the woods.

Soon, four Redhaven police cars, a paramedic unit, and an ambulance were parked in the clearing next to the lake. Sharp climbed into the ambulance with Olivia. The paramedic had started treating her immediately with inhaled and IV medications and oxygen. Her color had already improved.

Lance put an arm around Morgan’s shoulders. She leaned her head on his shoulder. They didn’t speak at first. The physical contact was reassuring enough. The crisis had passed. No one had died—not even the Holgersens. Weariness seeped into Lance’s bones. He was wet, cold, hungry, and utterly exhausted.

But his heart was light with elation and disbelief that they had found Olivia alive. Or maybe he was light-headed.

“I want to go home and sleep for a week,” Morgan finally said.

“I hear you.” Lance squeezed her arm. They hadn’t slept much since the previous Thursday. “It’s been a long four days.”

“We’re not going to get any sleep tonight, are we?” Morgan asked.

“Probably not.” They had a long night of questioning ahead of them, but Lance didn’t care. Everyone he cared about was alive, and that was all that mattered.

Chapter Forty-Six

Olivia reached for the water cup on her rolling bed tray.

Detective Stella Dane sat in the bedside chair, taking notes on a small notepad. “I can come back if you need a break.”

“No.” Olivia sipped. “I’m almost done. I want to finish.” She wanted to put the whole incident behind her, but realistically, she knew that would never happen. She would carry the scars of her kidnapping forever.

Would she ever be able to be alone again? Sleep without nightmares?

She shuddered, wishing Lincoln were there. This was the first time he’d left her side since he’d found her the night before. He had been gone for twenty minutes, and she was missing him. She’d gone from being super independent to super dependent in five days.