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Nothing would stop me. Not even the endless grenades coming at me.
But they might. If they hit their target.
I move in on the back of the boat, zigzagging through the water, until I reach it and start circling closely, torn between checking on Pearl and keeping my eye on King as he fires his gun, throws a grenade, alternating constantly. I can’t fucking think with all these bullets and grenades coming at me.
I pull back, gain some distance, and find Pearl on the back of the boat, sopping wet, terrified. Keep it together, my love. Stay alive.
“Brad!” she screams.
Something plops into the water before me.
And the sky lights up.
My body becomes weightless.
Blackness.
72
DANNY
* * *
“Fuck, no,” James says, taking the words right out of my mouth.
I don’t tell my arms and legs to start moving, but they move fast. I swim toward the boat, my heart racing, all pain forgotten, not sure what I’m going to do when I get there but needing to get there. Get to him. I can hear Pearl screaming. I can also hear King laughing, the psychotic fuck.
“Take a moment, Danny,” James puffs from beside me. “He thinks we’re dead in the water.”
“I’ll think when I find Brad.” I increase my pace, and when we’re fifty or so yards away from the back of the boat, I break into breaststroke, minimizing the movement in the water. But my breathing is loud and out of control. “Can you see him?” I ask, scanning the water, searching.
“Nothing,” James says, and I curse quietly, hearing the boat engine start. “Shit,” James hisses.
And then I see Brad—hanging off the side of the boat, his face bloody. My heart lifts and sinks all at the same time. “James,” I whisper, nodding to the stern as I start to swim to the boat, hoping I can make it before King hits the throttle, although what the fuck we can do all hanging off the back of a boat, I don’t know. I split my attention between King at the helm and Brad on the side, moving in and holding on to the edge with him, James the other side. “You could look a bit more pleased to see us.”
Brad breathes out. “And what the fuck are we going to do now?”
“Not a fucking clue.” I don’t mind admitting it.
James looks back toward the shore, probably looking to see if anyone is coming after us. We took the jet skis. One boat has blown, the other we’re currently clinging to. I don’t mind admitting we’re fucking fucked. Where’s that fucking chopper?
Think! I frown when a shadow creeps over us.
Slowly look up.
My forehead meets the end of a gun, his big, meaty face smiling as he leans over the edge, a Glock in each hand. “God, won’t you three just fucking die?”
I won’t lie; my life flashes before my eyes as I stare down the barrel of his gun. The amazing bits. The shitty parts. Everything.
This really is my time.
I start thinking stupid thoughts. How I wouldn’t want to die with anyone else. How it’s been a pleasure knowing these two madmen. See you in hell, I think, closing my eyes.
Bang!
I blink my eyes open, looking for Brad and James. Which one did he take first? But they’re both still hanging on to the edge of the boat, looking at me. I peek up, cautious. No King. “What the fuck?” I whisper, using all my strength to haul myself up along with the others. King’s staggered toward the helm, his hand on the throttle. Shit. “Pull yourselves up,” I hiss, fighting the pain and exhaustion to haul myself up the side of the boat.
“Fuck,” Brad curses, struggling.
