Free Killing Game (Veritas Book 2) by Chandler Steele

abruptly stopped paddling and he did the same. As she turned, she could see the concern on his face. “I caught her smoking weed last night. I got in her face.”
    “As one does,” Brannon said, setting his oar aside and loosening up his shoulders. They’d been at it hard for the last hour, gliding along, and they hadn’t seen anything more than the usual wildlife. No sign of the missing teen.
    “Maybe if I hadn’t gone off on her, she wouldn’t have bailed on us,” Cait replied.
    “You’re guilting yourself for no reason. She’s what? Eighteen?”
    “Seventeen, according to the paperwork.”
    “Well, right now she’s acting like a spoiled child.”
    Cait sighed, rubbing her neck. “Something had to make her bolt.”
    “I don’t think it was you. I think it was her boyfriend. Did you notice how they weren’t sitting together last night?”
    “I chalked it up to her being jealous because he was fawning all over Ms. Flirt,” Cait replied.
    He grinned. “No, I think it was more than that. James wanted her to share his tent and she refused. The girl doesn’t feel comfortable with him.”
    Cait frowned, thinking that through. “He didn’t strike me as creepy. Well, not any odder than most young guys.”
    “I know, but something’s off with him.”
    “I’ll trust your gut on that. If we don’t find her, we’ll have to call in the search-and-rescue folks.”
    “We’ll find her. She couldn’t have gone that far,” Brannon said. “She just needed some space, I think.”
    “God, I hope you’re right.”

Chapter Eight
    It was her companion who spied the canoe two hours in, tucked up near the shore, but not tied off. Just resting there. As they drew near, Brannon leaned over and grabbed its front gunwale. To Cait’s dismay, the canoe was empty.
    “Damn.” She raised her head, looking around. “You think she went ashore somewhere?”
    “No, I don’t.” He retrieved a half-empty bottle of cheap whiskey, holding it up. “I suspect she got drunk and then had to take a leak. I bet she stopped at the toilet and failed to tie up the canoe, so it floated here. Probably why it’s headed in the wrong direction.”
    “If we’re lucky, that’s the case,” she replied. “If not, she’s lost somewhere in the woods.”
    And my responsibility. Dammit, Mike .
    Brannon carefully transferred over to the other canoe, then paddled alongside hers. As they neared the structure, he smiled and pointed. Patti was asleep on the platform, curled up in a fetal position.
    “God, I was just like that at her age. Minus the blue-hair thing,” Cait groused.
    “You got drunk and stole boats?”
    “For me, it was a neighbor’s Harley. Luckily, my dad found me before the cops did. And before I wrecked it.”
    Brannon gave a low whistle. “How old were you?”
    “Sixteen, going on terminally stupid.”
    He laughed. “Been there, done that. For me, it was a boat and a bottle of vodka. I still can’t touch the stuff, makes me sick just thinking of it.” He pounded his oar on the side of the platform. “Time to wake up, sunshine!”
    Patti’s head shot up, revealing a pea-green face that screamed brain-pounding hangover. “Go . . . away.”
    “Not happening,” Brannon said, rapping the platform again. “We missed you at breakfast. We had lots of greasy bacon and scrambled eggs in butter.” None of which they’d gotten to eat, but that didn’t matter, as Patti’s eyes went wide, her throat convulsed, and she scrambled to the side of the platform to retch.
    Cait shook her head. “That was cruel.”
    “Absolutely,” he replied, grinning now. “Used to do that to my younger brother when he stayed out all night.”
    “I’m surprised you’re alive to tell the tale. I would have killed you in a heartbeat.” She turned back to the girl. “Patti? You hurt?”
    The girl raised her head weakly. “No, I—” Without warning, she leaned back over for a new round of vomiting.
    “Yeah, just like me at that