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Back Deception Cove Save as PDF
Chapters (78)
  1. Cover
  2. Title Page
  3. Copyright
  4. Dedication
  5. Epigraph
  6. Prologue
  7. One
  8. Two
  9. Three
  10. Four
  11. Five
  12. Six
  13. Seven
  14. Eight
  15. Nine
  16. Ten
  17. Eleven
  18. Twelve
  19. Thirteen
  20. Fourteen
  21. Fifteen
  22. Sixteen
  23. Seventeen
  24. Eighteen
  25. Nineteen
  26. Twenty
  27. Twenty-One
  28. Twenty-Two
  29. Twenty-Three
  30. Twenty-Four
  31. Twenty-Five
  32. Twenty-Six
  33. Twenty-Seven
  34. Twenty-Eight
  35. Twenty-Nine
  36. Thirty
  37. Thirty-One
  38. Thirty-Two
  39. Thirty-Three
  40. Thirty-Four
  41. Thirty-Five
  42. Thirty-Six
  43. Thirty-Seven
  44. Thirty-Eight
  45. Thirty-Nine
  46. Forty
  47. Forty-One
  48. Forty-Two
  49. Forty-Three
  50. Forty-Four
  51. Forty-Five
  52. Forty-Six
  53. Forty-Seven
  54. Forty-Eight
  55. Forty-Nine
  56. Fifty
  57. Fifty-One
  58. Fifty-Two
  59. Fifty-Three
  60. Fifty-Four
  61. Fifty-Five
  62. Fifty-Six
  63. Fifty-Seven
  64. Fifty-Eight
  65. Fifty-Nine
  66. Sixty
  67. Sixty-One
  68. Sixty-Two
  69. Sixty-Three
  70. Sixty-Four
  71. Sixty-Five
  72. Sixty-Six
  73. Sixty-Seven
  74. Sixty-Eight
  75. Acknowledgments
  76. Discover More
  77. About the Author
  78. Also by Owen Laukkanen

In a locker by the stairs he found one of Kirby’s fishing jackets. Whitmer tore off what remained of the body armor and pulled the jacket on, stuffed the spare magazines in his pocket. Then he climbed out of the cabin and back up to the cockpit, and began to devise a strategy.

Whitmer wasn’t sure he cared anymore whether Jess Winslow and the convict lived or died. He wasn’t even sure he cared about the package Winslow’s husband had stolen. He hadn’t tagged along on this bullshit mission for the sake of a few hundred grand’s worth of heroin.

Whitmer had other priorities now. And he wasn’t going to leave this island until he’d accomplished what he’d come here to do.

He stashed the pistols in his waistband. Dropped over the side of the Grady-White and into knee-deep water, waded in toward the beach and the tree line beyond, stealthy as he could. Then he disappeared into the forest and began to stalk his prey.

Fifty-Nine

Fifty-Nine

Bad things were going to happen on this island.

Kirby Harwood gripped his rifle tighter and pushed through the low branches. Ten yards to his left, Cole Sweeney was fighting through trees of his own, matching Harwood’s pace, step for step. Another ten yards or so away was Joy, and the men walked in unison, slowly and cautiously, circling around the edge of the bay to the south side of the island, where somewhere Jess waited.

Her rifle had gone silent, and that wasn’t at all comforting. She wasn’t dead; it wasn’t going to be that easy. For all Harwood knew, she was watching them now through the scope of her rifle, waiting for the perfect kill shot.

Go ahead, he thought. Shoot. Give away your position.

He searched the forest ahead of him, ears pricked for any sound, eyes alert for any movement. Kept his finger on the trigger and swung the rifle around as he moved, knowing if he saw Jess, she’d probably see him, too, and then it’d be a race to who could shoot the other first.

Damn it, he hated the bitch.

He hated her for making him follow her to this island, for shooting at him and ruining his boat. He hated her because Bryce Whitmer was dead, and Dale probably too, and he and Cole were at the very least going to get fired over this shit, if they didn’t wind up in jail.

He hated her for marrying Ty Winslow, whose stupidity was matched only by his greed, and he hated her for going over to fight the towelheads and coming back so fucked in the brain that she needed a goddamn support dog who’d been trained by a fucking convicted killer.