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When I turn around and careen towards him, surprise flickers across his face. It only takes him a few seconds to raise his gun and fire at me.
Once.
Twice.
He’s a bad shot. But I lunge for his body, closing the gap between us in another fifteen seconds. I grab the gun with my left hand and force it up, then sling my arm around his body, stabbing him viciously and repeatedly in the lower back.
His breath seizes and I use that momentum to overpower him, pulling the gun away from him. He blinks, stunned, and starts to fall. I pull my knife blade free in a gory, blood drenched mess. Then I drop my knife in the sand and grab the extra ammo from his belt.
That’s the point at which the men in black uniforms clamber closer.
“Don’t kill him!” I hear. I don’t even have time to process what that could mean, though.
Without even thinking about it, I shoot three men dead where they stand. A fourth yells and tries to tackle me but I take him out, too.
Three men are trying to watch me as they huddle close to the duffel bags that I dropped on the sandy beach. As one of them unzips the bag, I shoot at him, but I miss.
I let the magazine slide free and reload, counting men. There are at least ten of them and I have no more than six bullets left.
I have to make a decision, then. Is it better to have Persephone with me or to have the bags stuffed with money and gems?
In an instant, I know what my answer is. Money is a constant thing in my life and nearly always replaceable.
Persephone, though… I need her, for the time being at least.
I aim and shoot down the closest thug, backing away toward the dock. Out of the corner of my eye, I see the boathouse door open. Persephone shoves the man who was holding her out the door. He isn’t motionless or anything, it seems like she just caught him off balance somehow.
She looks at me, her breathing ragged, and brandishes his small black gun.
Oh, fuck yes.
I lick my lips, aiming and firing my gun at the guys on the beach. I hit five of them, killing three.
“Give me the gun!” I shout, holding my hand out flat.
Without a moment’s hesitation, she slaps it into my palm. I take aim at the remaining men on the beach, killing three more. Their bodies make soft sounds as they hit the sandy beach, dead before they hit the ground.
The other men look at each other, apparently making the same decision. They pull back as a unit, retreating up into the scrub and trees.
I pretend to give chase, barreling up the beach toward them. I can hear their frantic footsteps as they retreat through the bushes.
Stopping as soon as I reach the duffel bags, I scoop them up and awkwardly sprint back toward the dock. The guy that Persephone disarmed struggles as he heads up to the shore.
“I wouldn’t,” I comment out of the side of my mouth. But I dinnae wait to see what he does.
No, I run down the rickety dock, toward the doorway that Persephone waits by. I barrel past her and inside the boat shed. My big, dark boat takes up nearly all of the room in the little shed. I throw each of my duffels on board and turn to Persephone, my heart pounding.
She’s already clambering on board, which makes my stomach do a quick flip flop. I step over and give her a boost. She climbs in, darting a nervous glance at the two seats and the bow.
I leap into the boat, jam myself behind the steering wheel, and start the engine. Persephone sits down heavily beside me as I throw the boat into drive.
I glance at her as I nudge the boat out of the little shed, busting the doors open.
“Hold on, sweetheart.”
I crank up the speed and the boat takes off.
Chapter9
