A sharp jab to his ribs sent pain rocketing through Brandon’s body as he struggled to push the guy off. Brandon kicked his leg back, trying to shift the weight and gain leverage. He managed to get an arm loose and landed an elbow blow, and his attacker grunted. The weight shifted, and a huge fist smacked into Brandon’s temple. Everything went black as Brandon clamped his eyes shut and pain reverberated through his skull. When he opened his eyes again, the world felt off-balance. His ears were ringing and he realized the weight had disappeared.

Brandon rolled to his back, gasping for air as he yanked his Glock from the holster. He sat up and aimed . . . but there was nothing to aim at, no shot—only the blurry yellow glow of the house at the top of the hill.

Cursing, Brandon staggered to his feet.

*   *   *

Antonio flattened his back against the side of the house. From beneath the deck a few moments ago, he’d seen Mason Lloyd run inside, and now he heard muffled voices in the kitchen.

Staying in the shadows, Antonio eased along the side of the house toward the garage. He reached a wall of windows and ducked under them as he rushed past the kitchen toward the driveway.

A powerful diesel engine roared to life. That would be the black pickup Antonio had seen parked in the garage.

Shit, they were taking off. He needed help to stop them. He didn’t know where Brandon was, but Akins was still down on the dock with Vanessa.

Suddenly, the pickup shot from the garage like a torpedo. It sped backward down the driveway, heading straight for the wrought-iron gate, not even waiting for it to open. As the truck burst through the gate, the tail of another truck—Brandon’s—moved into its path. Antonio heard an ear-piercing crunch of metal as the trucks collided.

Antonio ran for the black truck. It was completely blocked in by the bed of Brandon’s pickup.

Antonio halted and aimed his gun at the windshield. “Police!”

The truck shot forward. The big silver grille lunged straight at him, and Antonio dove out of the way, hitting the ground. He rolled and popped to his feet, somehow managing to hang on to his gun.

The truck skidded, nearly hitting a tree. Then it accelerated, sending dust and gravel spewing backward as it raced across the grassy yard and careened into the brush, mowing down shrubs.

Another engine caught Antonio’s attention, and he spun toward the garage. The silver Porsche shot backward, but Brandon sped up the driveway and made a sharp turn, blocking it in with his now-dented pickup.

Antonio ran to the Porsche and flung the door open. Mason tried to flee the other side, but Brandon was already there.

“Police! Show me your hands!” Brandon reached in and dragged him from the car as Antonio slid across the hood.