Page 94 of Viper

The rickety dock creaked and shook beneath their weight. Troy led the group, his gaze pillaging every inch around them for a sign Paige had been there. A smattering of something dark stained the wooden slats.

“Halt,” he called.

His men stopped behind him. Troy moved closer, being careful not to step on what could be evidence. He squatted and stared at the dark-red blemish dyeing the boards. His chest tightened. An icy-cold river of pain splashed over his head despite the scalding heat.

He wiped his brow with his sleeve, blotting up the sweat so he could reexamine what his gut already knew he was looking at.

“Blood.”

Striker’s ravaged word fell on Troy’s back like a sledgehammer. Hearing his friend confirm what he didn’t want to believe was almost too much. He stayed low on the dock, unable to stand. Unable to do a single fucking thing but try to steady his nerves.

He rested his elbow on his bent knee, his Glock loose in his fingers while he rubbed his free hand down his face. He was barely aware of Wraith, Havoc, and Reaper moving around him to inspect the rest of the pier.

Striker’s hand settled on his arm. “Don’t jump to conclusions.”

Pressure beat against his forehead. Jesus, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d cried. Probably would’ve been years ago in Afghanistan, when he’d lost a close comrade right in his goddamn arms.

This felt the same. Worse.

He surged to his feet. “You know as well as I do there’s a good chance he hurt her.”

Striker gripped the back of his neck roughly, forcing him to lock eyes with his best friend. “Don’t fucking do that. Not yet. For all we know⁠—”

“Hey, chums,” Wraith bellowed from the end of the dock. “You’re gonna wanna see this.”

Fear locked his knees. If it was Paige . . . he couldn’t handle it.

“S’all right.” Wraith’s gentle reassurance gave him courage.

He shook off Striker’s hold and strode down the dock to where the other three men gathered. They stood near the edge, their focus on something in the water. A large dark hump. At first glance, he assumed it was an alligator, but a noticeable strip of pale skin indicated the form was human.

A human wearing a police uniform.

His gut twisted.

“He’s facedown so it’s hard to be certain, but I’m gonna bet my left nut that’s Spencer,” Reaper said, rocking back on his heels.

“Yeah, must be,” Troy said absently. “We’ve gotta call it in.” Instead of reaching for his phone, he scanned the endless ocean that rolled like a massive blue carpet toward the horizon.

“We need to get a boat,” Havoc said. “I’ll see if I can rent one. Gimme a few minutes.” He took out his phone and walked back toward the beach.

“Have you considered calling the Coast Guard?” Striker asked.

Troy tore his eyes away from the mesmerizing water. “With the connections Craig has with the local police, I’m not sure it’s a good idea. They let him slip away more than once already.”

Striker nodded. “Agreed.” His mouth sat in a heavy line that matched the scowl of his brow.

“What’re you thinking?”

Striker sighed and wiped a bead of sweat from his temple. “I wish we had the chopper, that’s what.”

“Aye,” Wraith said. “Even with a boat it’ll be like searching for a needle in a haystack.”

“Thanks for your fucking positivity, asshole,” Troy grumbled.

Wraith shrugged. “Just tellin’ it like it is.”

Troy turned away from the water, hating that Wraith was right. They could be hours away, and without a lead to narrow down a location, they might never find Paige.