Apparently Wesley could give Rory a hard time, but that didn’t meant strangers could. At over six feet, he was the tallest man in the group, and while he didn’t have Arthur’s breadth he had his own dangerous air. Sebastian could see Tommy reassessing him.
“If anyone is gonna tell these two to go chase themselves, it oughta be me.” Rory was gingerly movingforward in the boat. Lenny pulled back the corner of the tarp, revealing four crates.
Rory knelt by the closest crate and put both hands on it.
Lenny was eying him with a look Sebastian didn’t like. “What’s he doing?”
Sebastian stepped between Rory and Lenny. “Whatever he needs to do,” Sebastian said coolly. He could hear faint muttering, mostly lost to the wind, as Rory scried the crates.
And then Rory suddenly yanked his hands off the crate. “Who the hell do you think you are?”
Oh shit. “Rory,” Sebastian said, but Rory was already on his feet.
“You think you’re gonna scam Jade?” Rory was pointing at the bootlegger. “Not on our watch, buddy.”
“Hard to watch anything from the bottom of the Hudson.” And Lenny shoved Rory off the boat and into the river.
Chapter Two
Of course everything had gone to shit.
Ofcourseit had.
The moment he’d seen Rory straighten up with an all-too-familiar look of outrage and all the subtlety and good sense of an angry bull, Wesley was already pivoting. Tommy was reaching into his coat for his gun, but Wesley was faster, jabbing him in the stomach with the bottle of rum.
“Oof.” Tommy grunted loudly, doubling over, and Wesley followed the blow with a hard kick to his leg. The man hit the dock just as Wesley heard a splash and Sebastian’s panicked shout echoed up from the boat.
“Rory!”
Fuck. It could always get worse, because Rory might have the power of the wind but he couldn’t fucking swim.
Wesley bent and snatched up the gun out of Tommy’s jacket, straightening just in time to see Sebastian shoving Lenny aside. A second later, Sebastian’s heavy coat was off his shoulders and he was diving headfirst into the Hudson after Rory.
Wesley didn’t have time to even attempt to process the feelings that flooded him; down in the boat, Lennywas scrambling up to his feet and pulling out another gun, his gaze on the shape of Sebastian gliding under the gray river water.
Wesley was moving again without thinking. Tommy was starting to stand, so Wesley kicked him straight off the pier and into the water. He’d be able to swim to the ladder and climb out, but it bought Wesley the seconds he needed to cock the gun in his hands.
“Drop the gun,” he barked at Lenny down in the boat.
Lenny ignored him. Out in the river, the surface was breaking, and Lenny was bringing the gun up.
Wesley fired a shot into the bottle of counterfeit liquor at the man’s feet, which shattered, spraying the bottom of the boat with glass.
Lenny froze.
“Drop the fucking gun,” Wesley said, through clenched teeth, “or the next one goes between your eyes.”
Lenny held up his hands. But he hadn’t dropped the weapon. Down in the water, Tommy had reached the ladder. In a moment, he’d be back on the pier.
“Tommy only had one bullet left in that gun,” said Lenny. “And you just wasted it.”
Wesley refused to flinch, keeping the gun steady and trained on Lenny. “Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
Lenny hesitated.
In the river, two heads surfaced: Rory in front, eyes closed and missing his glasses and hat; Sebastian behind him, arms around Rory’s torso and keeping his nose and mouth above the water line. Sebastian was a strong swimmer, but Rory would be like an anvil withthe weight of a soaked winter coat, in a river temperature akin to ice water. They weren’t going to be dodging bullets in their state; how long could they last?
Behind him, in the parking lot, he heard more voices. Shit. Did the bootleggers have reinforcements? Was Wesley really out of bullets?
