Spada laughed. “It’s too bad Darby’s not here to test that.” He leaned in close to Jung. “But, well, he ran into a little trouble, didn’t he? Chop, chop, chop. Nobody crosses me. It’s you first, and then Raines. I’m going to enjoy seeing her in pieces.”

I shivered, remembering Darby in the box. Spada grabbed Jung up again, but this time Jung grabbed back. He literally threw his entire body at the man with the gun, the two struggling as the boat swayed. I knew Jung would come out on the losing end. There was no way he wouldn’t.

Not good. Not good. I bolted for the rim of the overhang, flung my legs over the side, and jumped, landing hard, jamming my knees. I took off, running the length of the boat, my bare feet, as cold as ice, slipping along the deck. Jung was fighting for his life. I had to get there. He wouldn’t last long in the water. He wouldn’t last at all with a bullet in his head.

I skidded to a stop a few feet from the two of them, gun drawn, watching as Spada’s arm tightened around Jung’s throat. His other hand had a gun in it.

He reeled, shocked to see me, his wild eyes confused by my presence. He checked the lake again, but there was nothing there, not yet. “Raines. How? When?” He pulled Jung closer to him, using him as a human shield. Jung slumped back, his eyes half-closed, no more fight left in him.

“Drop the gun. Let him go.”

Spada laughed and the sound of it sent shafts of icy fear shooting down my spine. “Or?”

My hands, the blood drained from my fingers, the blisters throbbing and tender, tightened on the grip of my gun. I didn’t want to consider the “or.” I didn’t respond, but I watched him, closely, every muscle tic, every inhale of breath.

He laughed. “Thought so. You’ve got nothing. He’s got nothing. A few files? Stolen files, and the word of a few low-life scum? I have money. Money talks, remember that.” Spada checked the water, still nothing. “He’s going over, and then you’re going over after him. That’s how this ends.” He raised the gun, waved it in Jung’s direction, but I didn’t have a shot. Jung still stood between Spada and me. “Or it ends like this. Your choice.”

I needed to stall for time. The cops were coming. “I could be wearing a wire.”

Frankly, he’d just dragged me halfway to Union Pier by his towline. If I had had a wire, it would have conked out ten miles back, but, again, stalling.