Page 178 of Revere: A Legacy Novel

“Guns first, young man, and then the girl.”

Even from her distance, Catherine could see Cross nod once.

Then, he turned away and disappeared to somewhere else on the boat. Catherine’s heart sank as she suddenly realized her one chance to warn him might have been entirely lost in that one second. It was very possible that one of Rhys’ men might kill Cross the very moment they were on the boat with him.

Catherine didn’t know for sure, but it was enough to make her stomach churn. So much so, that she felt what bit of water she had sipped on that day climb up her throat without any kind of warning. She barely had time to turn to the side before vomit and bile spewed from her mouth, off the side of the dock. Still, some got on her cheeks and hands.

Rami grunted disgustedly above her. Wordlessly, and without permission from Rhys, he bent down and undid the rope from around her wrists. He pointed at the water where her vomit was already washing away.

“Clean, now.”

Catherine glared at the man.

She had a good mind to ask if he could say more than a couple or a few words at a time.

She stayed quiet instead.

Slowly, she washed the sickness from her face and hands, using the salt water to hide her shakiness. She took her time because she worried the moment she was finished, Rami might tie her wrists up again. She wondered how long she could fuck around with the ropes off.

Maybe then …

Catherine glanced at the yacht again, only to see Cross had come back to the bow. Rhys was shouting orders through his megaphone as the red and black colored boats docked along the low lying stern of Beauty.

Cross didn’t move an inch, instead staying right where he was, and keeping his gaze firmly locked on hers. Like he was waiting for something—a sign, maybe.

Anything.

Catherine wondered … if this was her one chance to warn him, and if she did, what good might it do them? There was no one there but them. His one boat, to Rhys’ fleet. His one man, to Rhys’ army.

Hell, if they were going to die anyway, Catherine kind of wanted to make sure she at least went with him. Touching him. Holding him. Near him.

Anything except like this.

Cross’s head turned to the side just a bit, as though he could hear something from behind him. Catherine’s gaze darted to the men still on the boats at the yacht’s stern, only to see their heads were also turned to the side, and looking somewhere in the distance.

She looked up.

Rhys’ was barking for someone through the megaphone.

Rami’s gun was pointed away from her, and his gaze was on the yacht.

Catherine took her chance.

She was up on her feet and stumbling the last two feet to the end of the dock before she could even think about it. Despite her ankles being tied, she managed it without someone yanking her back. She jumped just as she felt Rami coming behind her. His mother tongue spilling from his lips.

Catherine screamed just before she hit the water. “It’s a trap, Cross!”

And all she felt was ice.

The water was cold; so goddamn cold. It took her breath away, and stung her skin. She spread her arms wide, seeing blackness all around because of the night sky. She tried to kick her legs, and forgot that they were still tied for the moment.

Still, Catherine broke the surface.

She sucked in air, and went back under.

All she knew was the direction she wanted to go, and so she did. Catherine flicked her tied legs like a mermaid might flip a fin, and swam. She stayed under the surface until her lungs were fucking burning and she couldn’t hold off on getting air any longer.

She came up with a gasp to break the surface.