Page 85 of Heist in Paradise

The man scowled, then spat on the deck in front of me. “Useless,” he said thickly. “Ah, it’s over. We leave now.” He pointed a finger at me. “Kill this one.”

Molly hesitated, her voice taking on a stronger edge. “Where is Marco?”

The man bared his teeth. “Dead.”

“And Luis?”

The man flapped his hand dismissively, an answer in itself. His impatience was palpable.

“They’re all dead,” Molly said softly, as if absorbing the words, considering them in full. “It’s just us now.”

The man started to curse, then paused and looked at Molly as if seeing her for the first time, clocking whatever expression accompanied the awe in her tone. Apprehension settled over him. He stepped back, wary.

Molly took a quiet breath, so quiet that I knew only I’d heard it. Then she lifted the gun from my head and shot the man at point-blank range.

Unlike Madoc, it wasn’t a clean shot. It was messy and loud. The man jerked as the bullet struck him. He staggered and clutched his chest, but he didn’t fall.

I scrambled to my feet. “Shoot him again!”

Molly did.

Once.

Twice.

Three times, and then the gun clicked empty. The man crumbled downwards, face ashen, chest hitching wetly. Molly stepped forward and kicked him swiftly in the head. He died a slow, gurgling death at our feet.

Mind numb, I turned to the sea.

I didn’t realize I had moved until I was leaning fully over the railing. The wind whipped at my hair, and the cold bit at my face. I searched the water frantically, jumping at shadows. I knew it was a long shot. I knew Madoc was probably dead.

Something slapped hard beneath me, and I jumped—

—A pale hand gripped the bottom railing below me.

I didn’t think. I just jumped overboard, into the frigid waters below. The air was punched from my lungs. I came up gasping, lips stinging, hair plastered over my eyes. Something brushed my ankle, and I recoiled with a yelp.

Now what, genius?

My eyes zeroed in on the dark figure clinging to the boat. I padded over noisily, like my life depended on it.

Like his life depended on it.

Madoc was in bad shape. He was still conscious but barely, his hand on the railing, clinging to the last of his strength. Or at least I thought so, until his eyes fluttered open, and even in the near-darkness, the glaring green was potent.

“You’re alive,” I said breathlessly as I bobbed in front of him.

He didn’t speak, but for once I knew it wasn’t by choice. He was ice cold to touch, his lip trembling as he fought the shock.

“She shot you,” I rambled nervously. Relief thumped through me. “I saw it. She—”

“Shut up.”

My mouth clicked shut before it started to chatter. The cold sank into my bones, different from the shock. I stared at Madoc, and he stared back as the water slapped between us, blood-tinged and salty. Then he adjusted his grip, and his mouth hitched up into a familiar snarl.

“H-hurry up.”

My hands fumbled over him, finding his waist and hooking into the material of his vest. His head turned away, like he couldn’t stomach the sight of me.