Page 6 of Brooks

“You’re the one who offered to take me out. As a matter of fact, you ordered me to meet you on the dock. I’m simply here at your request.”

Unbelievable. Arrogant bastard.

I put the boat into gear and gave it more throttle than necessary. The engine whined, the bow raised, and I didn’t hide my smile when Brooks had to grip the rails to prevent himself from falling.

His answering chuckle wasn’t what I’d expected. Not that I could hear over the wind but I could see it. Jerk.

I slowed my speed once I approached the marina. Brooks stood and made his way back to the deck and stopped too close. I could smell his spicy scent over the briny smell of the Gulf. How had I missed that before?

“Do you have a security detail?” he weirdly asked.

“No.”

“You picked up a tail.”

“What?”

“Those two.” He nodded in the direction of an empty slip. “They followed you here from your apartment. You know them?”

“I don’t think so.” Suddenly his statement clicked. “Wait. You followed me here from my apartment?”

“Stop the boat, Tatiana.”

Apparently I hadn’t reacted quickly enough for Brooks. His hand covered mine on the throttle and he jammed it in reverse. The Bayliner jerked into gear and he pulled back hard. The engine sputtered, Brooks turned the wheel, the boat spun left, he slammed the lever forward barely giving the engine time to disengage before he propelled us forward much like I’d done earlier.

“What the hell?”

“Reach in my back-left pocket, take out my cell.”

“Why. What’s—”

My question was cut off when the first bullet whizzed past us. I yanked his phone out of his pocket. He rattled off the number to dial and took the cell phone from me, placing it against his ear.

I turned back to the dock, happy to see we were gaining distance but not nearly enough. I heard him tell whoever he was speaking to that we’d found trouble. But I was more concerned at what I was seeing to pay attention to his conversation.

“Uh, Brooks? I think they have an RPG.”

His head snapped over his shoulder, his cell hit the deck, and the last thing he said to me was, “I hope you can swim.”

His arms wrapped around me and we jumped overboard.

Hitting the water at forty-plus knots was shocking. It was not a graceful dive into a smooth pond. I went in shoulder-first and instead of coming right up, Brooks pulled us farther under. With my arm in his tight grasp, he swam deep. My lungs burned, in desperate need of oxygen. I struggled, trying to get out of his hold. I was a decent swimmer but I wasn’t prepared for a free dive to the deep-blue yonder.

He stopped his descent, pulled me face-to-face with him. Saltwater stung my eyes but I was transfixed. He was so close and looked at ease.

A shockwave sent us tumbling through the water. Brooks’ relentless grip moved to my hands and didn’t budge. The need to inhale overwhelmed me. Time slowed to milliseconds, as each ticked by, I fought the urge to breathe. I was suffocating.

Strong arms wrapped around my useless body and propelled us toward the surface. If I hadn’t known better, I’d swear we were being thrust upward by DPV. Brooks shoved me above water and blessed air filled my lungs. A second later his head popped out of the water and he looked completely unaffected.

“You okay?”

I was heaving too hard to answer and settled for a nod.

“Roll to your back and float. It will be easier to catch your breath.”

I tried and failed to do as he suggested. Finally, Brooks took pity and maneuvered me face side up. I was concentrating on the cloudless sky, counting my breaths when he spoke again. “That’s it. Slow your breathing.”

“What the hell?” I finally panted out.