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We got out and I could see Garrett ready to draw his weapon. I held up a hand, hoping he wouldn’t. Not yet.
“Drew,” Preston said, taking a few steps closer to the other guy. “Where are they?”
“Who the fuck are they?” Drew asked, gesturing toward me and Garrett.
“Don’t worry about them,” Preston said.
I caught sight of a third man, hanging back, closer to the dock. Shit. I’d been in bar fights with worse odds—and won—but I had to assume these guys were armed. That was a totally different situation.
“I am going to worry about them,” Drew said. “You’re losing it, Preston.”
“Just give me the girls.”
Girls? Garrett mouthed.
I shrugged.
Drew shook his head. “You’ve gotten too arrogant, my friend. You think you can get away with anything.”
“My track record speaks for itself.”
“You never took risks like this before. We both know she’s a liability now.”
Even from a slight distance, I could see Preston’s jaw hitch and fury flashing across his features. “She’s mine. Do you hear me? She’s mine and you’re going to give her to me.”
The third guy backed up slowly toward the dock. I cast around, wondering where Marigold was. She had to be on that boat. And by the looks of it, that other dude wanted out of there.
“I can’t do that,” Drew said. “You’re putting our entire operation at risk. Look at yourself. You’re losing your mind.”
“Where is she?” Preston asked through clenched teeth.
“You’re making a mess of this.” Drew’s eyes flicked to us. “And now I have to clean it up.”
Drew reached under his jacket and the third guy bolted for the boat.
“Get down.” Garrett was already drawing his weapon.
Heedless of the danger, I took off running for the dock. I was not letting that asshole leave if my woman was on board.
“Drop your weapon!” Garrett said.
I didn’t stop.
“Drop it!”
A shot fired. I kept running until the third guy turned, pointing a gun at me. I skidded to a halt and dropped to the ground.
More shots fired in rapid succession. I looked back in time to see Drew fall to the ground. Garrett took aim at the third guy and fired until he crumpled onto the dock.
“Holy shit,” I said, practically breathless.
“You okay, Z?” Garrett called.
“Yeah.”
Preston was still standing. He had his hands slightly up, as if considering surrender. Then his features transformed, his cool confidence melting into abject malevolence. He dove for Drew’s gun and I watched in horror as he raised it, not pointing it at Garrett—the only armed man left standing—but at me.
I started to shout for my brother when an engine revved and tires squealed. Preston’s car came roaring toward him. It hit him head on, throwing him backward onto the concrete with a sickening crunch.
