Buck rolled his shoulders. “Not on my watch. Sloane… shout if anything pops up. I know this area pretty well, but…”
But it was pitch black, with waves cresting over the bow, troughs deep enough the boat disappeared, not to mention wind and rain — the odd finger of fog stretching over the surface.
The boat picked up speed, plowed through the incoming breakers as Buck rode up one side, then down the other, working the throttles to keep from getting caught in the crushing wash as the waves curled over, rolling across the surface.
Sloane stared at the radar. “They’re closing in — fifty yards.”
Buck nodded, still bobbing across the ocean on a line only he saw. He backed off a bit, staring straight ahead, head tilted. “We’re nearing the bar. Let’s see how well those boys read the water.”
Sloane looked back at Nick, mouthed,the bar, before turning back, grabbing the edge of the console. Buck didn’t seem worried, just watched the ocean seethe, stared at how the waves broke in front, his lips moving a bit as if counting the seconds between crests.
Those Hurricanes closed in, the first rounds thumping off the stern when Buck slammed the throttles forward, surging the boat ahead. The bow tipped up, sliding Sloane against the back of her seat before planing out, slicing through the incoming swell like a missile. The boat rode the wave, that crest looming closer, the top already starting to froth. White water churned against the hull, pushing them back as the top rose above them before Buck gave the motors one last boost — shot the vessel out the other side.
They skipped along, dropped into a massive swell before surging up again, beating the next breaker with mere seconds to spare. Water sheeted across the windshield, the view nothing but a wash of white before the hull slammed into the next trough with a bone-jarring thud.
Nick grunted as he slipped out of the chair, hit the floor. Sloane reached for him, but he waved her off, dragging himself back into the seat. He pushed out a breath, grimaced, then shoved it all down. Just like she’d witnessed him do a thousand times in the field.
It struck her, then — how thin the line was between teammates and suicidal tendencies. How maybe she’d misjudged his previous actions — saw them in a gray-colored light because deep down, she was the reason he’d taken chances.
Like dragging his ass across hostile territory because he’d been worried she was in danger. And she knew, without a doubt, he would have shown up at that crossroads, bloody and half-dead, with or without Tierney.
The lingering feel of his mouth on hers tingled across her lips as something warm and heavy settled in her chest — the kind of feeling she’d examine later, after they’d escaped without sinking.
Buck kept theRoswellplowing through the swells as he scanned the stern, shaking his head when he flicked on another spotlight — lit up the pursuing boat. “We lost one, but our friend back there’s determined. We might need to persuade him to turn around.”
Sloane shouldered her rifle. “I can do that.”
“Sloane…” Buck sighed. “Just be careful and don’t fall overboard.”
“Thanks for the tip.”
She slipped through the side door, a blast of rain and sea spray pelting her face as she shuffled onto the deck, wind howling, waves beating at the hull. The storm roared all around her, the constant pounding of the hull nearly dropping her to her knees.
The railing burned ice cold beneath her palm as she used it to make her way to the stern and propped herself against the rearbench. The outboards growled in front of her, the silvery wake mixing with the churning waves.
She placed the scope against her eye, scanned the surface. A mix of white and black moved within the circle, nothing standing out until the Zodiac crested a wave, unleashed a volley of gunfire at them.
Rounds ricocheted off the metal, a couple punching small holes through the fiberglass near the top of the gunwale. Nothing that would sink them, but it brought the severity of the situation into clear focus. If they landed more, lower…
Sloane smoothed out her breathing, letting the waves drive her up, then down, counting each cycle until she had the pattern down flat, that Hurricane in her sights. She exhaled, waited until the other vessel started to crest, then fired.
Sparks lit up the night, jumping off the Hurricane’s console, looking like a cloud of fireflies dancing in the darkness. The boat reared up, then dipped down, disappearing amidst a wash of white foam.
Sloane waited, scope still pressed against her eye, the motion amplified by the zoomed-in view. A couple minutes passed before she straightened, fought the horizontal rain back to the cabin. The spray followed her through the door, the roar drowning out the whine of the motors up through the floorboards as the boat tipped up, slipped off the other side with a violent plunge.
A large wave broke across the side, the wash of water sweeping out her feet, carrying her farther into the cabin before dragging her belly first onto the deck when the vessel tipped hard to starboard — rode the edge of another massive breaker. Her feet slipped over the side, the rest of her following until she wedged the rifle against the lip — caught her weight.
Waves lashed at her legs as she pulled against the unrelenting force, every punishing swell weakening her grip.The weapon slipped with the next crash of water, dropping her into the ocean when a hand curled around her wrist, held firm.
She blinked, the current tearing at her, trying to pull her the rest of the way under, as Nick braced his boots against the side. He waited for the bow to rise above the next crest before tugging her back onto the deck. She fell across his lap, coughing out water, shivering like a junkie needing a fix. He scooped her up, either oblivious to any pain in his leg or consciously pushing it all down as he carried her back into the cabin.
Nick kicked the door shut behind them, jiggled the handle with his elbow until it clicked, then plopped her down on the bench seat. He cupped her chin, turned her head left and right. “Jesus, are you okay?”
A wool blanket settled around her shoulders before he moved in next to her, rubbed his hands along her arms.
She coughed out more water, limbs shaking, teeth chattering. “Fine, just…” She gazed into his eyes. “Thanks.”
Nick snorted. “Buck distinctly told younotto fall overboard.”
