Rede’s mind hadn’t fully caught up to her body. Mechanically, she helped Thanh drag Ducky into the canoe, then held it steady as she and Inna got in after him. Shay moved onto the bench just in time for the sopping wet broker to collapse in a twitching heap at her feet.

“Nice going, dude,” Inna said, clapping Thanh on the back.

Thanh spat out an unintelligible protest as embarrassment reddened her cheeks.

Ducky went to sit up. Rede’s foot landed on his chest and forced him back to the canoe floor. He winced as his wounded shoulder struck the wood, glowering up at Rede. She swatted away his halfhearted attempt to grab her leg and increased the pressure on his chest just enough to let him know she meant business.

Shay took a long look at Ducky’s shoulder. “That’s just a graze. Quit whining, you baby.”

The dispassionate, calculating thing that had taken over Rede’s brain had started to lose control. Her heart pounded just a little bit faster, stomach churning and throat tightening as the anxiety crept back in. Ducky was in their canoe. They had him, and he was bleeding, and the gun that had wounded him was still in Rede’s hand.

Well, if it was still there, she might as well use it.

“Don’t move,” Rede ordered Ducky as she loaded the chamber. She didn’t feel the need to elaborate; given the way she pointed the barrel, the threat was fairly obvious.

“You’re really trying to scare me?” Ducky let out a strangled laugh.

“Nah.” Rede shrugged. “Just letting you know what to expect.”

Shay’s eyes bored into Rede like power drills. She glanced up for a moment to see the smirk on Shay’s lips and a subtle thumbs up.

Ducky noticed their exchange. His face contorted as he looked Shay up and down. “Fuck, you just can’t stop giving me problems, can you?”

“It’s kind of my specialty,” said Shay.

“Look.” Ducky tried to turn his head to look at Rede, but he couldn’t twist his neck all the way. He settled for an awkward eye roll. “I’m betting you don’t even know the shit your friend here is up to. We’re not interested in you kayak kids. I’ll tell you what, if you-”

“Save it,” Thanh snapped. “Friends don’t sell out friends to stinky, Mr. Potato Head-looking wannabe crime lords.”

Shay blinked several times. She looked like she wanted to say something, but bit her lip to keep the words from spilling out.

Ducky had no such reservations. “Friends? Are you serious?” He let out a long groan. “Jesus, I hate kids.”

“So.” Mara’s tapping foot rocked the canoe. “We ready to cast off yet, or no?”

The team rattled off an affirmative. Rede handed off the pistol to Shay, who kept it firmly trained on Ducky while Rede picked up her paddle. Somehow, it hadn’t gotten lost in the fray.

While the team made their way toward Ronan’s hideout, Rede kept expecting another of Ducky’s boats to come roaring up alongside or for gunshots to rain down on them, but somehow the waters remained clear. The canoe drifted beneath the overpass ramp that led up to Ronan’s perpetually stranded MAX cars.

“Hold!” Mara yelled.

The team dug in their paddles, the river frothing around them as they struggled to halt the canoe. Rede’s heart felt like it was trying to climb out of her mouth. Her teammates cursed and let out grunts of frustration, surveying the water in dismay.

Debris clogged the water, stretching all the way from Ronan’s platform to the collapsed buildings nearby. Some was unidentifiable. The vast majority, though, clearly originated from the three burnt and mangled motorboat husks sticking halfway out of the shallow water. Rainbows of fuel drifted lazily with the wind. The stench of gasoline and burning rubber triggered Rede’s gag reflex; she bent over the gunnel, trying not to retch and failing miserably.

Ducky’s head thumped against the canoe floor as he tried to sit up. “The fuck is that smell?” he demanded.

The crew ignored him. Even if they wanted to, they couldn’t explain all this.

On the other side of Ronan’s platform, two boats remained intact. Rede could identify one as Ronan’s cruiser. The other was a mystery: a junker of a Frankenboat with a sagging wooden platform attached to the hull at water level. It even had its own Port-A-Potty. Why something like that would be parked next to a broker’s personal hideaway, Rede couldn’t guess.

“We might want to warn them we’re here,” said Shay.

Rede nodded. Ronan didn’t need another nasty surprise.

At Mara’s command, the team lifted their paddles and wound, slow and careful, toward the platform. Shay yelled a greeting as they went, projecting her shrill voice as much as physically possible.

As the crew pulled up alongside the platform, the first car’s door swung open. Bullet holes riddled the black-painted plywood covering the windows. Whole chunks were missing in some places. In others, the paint had been gouged away by something large and sharp.

Four-Stroke emerged from the car, pistol in hand. When he saw who it was, he visibly relaxed, though he didn’t holster his weapon. He took a cautious step toward the canoe. When he saw their captive, his eyes widened comically and he took a step back. Over his shoulder, he yelled, “Boss! The kids are back, and they’ve got company!”

“Bring ‘em in, then,” Ronan’s disembodied voice replied. He sounded hoarse and tired.

The crew tied down the canoe and half-guided, half-lifted Ducky onto the platform. His expression remained remarkably impassive as he looked up at Four-Stroke from where he knelt on the dock.

“I’ve got this.” Four-Stroke took Ducky by the arm and hauled him toward the second MAX car.

Shay breathed a sigh of relief and emptied the chamber on the pistol before tucking it into her belt.

A squeal of delight made the whole team jump. They turned just in time to see a black-haired blur shoot out of the first car and pounce on Mara.

Panic rippled through the group. However, that was before they recognized the silver-rimmed glasses peeping out from underneath a black bob, their friend’s face obscured as she clung to Mara like a koala.

The team collectively huddled around Mimi, who was quick to draw everyone into a stinky, adrenalized group hug. Rede ended up with her face squished into the back of Inna’s head, sneezing as his hair tickled her nose and laughing uncontrollably. She probably sounded hysterical. Of course, she didn’t have the energy to care.

Mimi finally drew back, face flushed and wrinkled from where it had pressed into Mara’s jacket. “I’m so glad you guys aren’t dead,” she said.

“Same here,” said Inna, halfway between a laugh and a sob.

Mimi’s smile grew a fraction. She took a step back and motioned for the team to follow. “Guys, come on. There’s…”

The sliding door groaned as it slid further open. A boy in a baggy jacket peeped his head out, a bashful grin spreading across his face. He turned around and yelled, “Hey Lace! Your friends are here!”

A sickeningly familiar face appeared behind the boy’s shoulder. Her hair was longer, her face thinner, her neck covered by a grime-smeared red bandanna — different enough that Rede could try to bury her knee-jerk reaction, choke down the sound rising in her throat like a buoy to the surface. It couldn’t be her. Rede was desperate; the lack of sleep was making her hallucinate.

The illusion only lasted a few seconds. Lacey stepped out from behind the boy and looked at Rede with an expression as fragile as spider silk. She raised her hand, hesitated, and waved.

The motion punched the air from Rede’s lungs. She looked at her feet, ignored the rush of blood in her ears, and struggled to breathe. She wished she were drowning for real.