Page 115 of Shadowing You

Not a fishing boat, though. It was long and narrow and matte black, sitting so low in the water that it was barely more than a dark shape carving a white path in the chop. There was no cabin, just a center console with a plastic windscreen wrapped around it. There must be people behind that windscreen, but he couldn’t see them.

That was their ride? He had been wishing for fresh air. It looked like they’d get it.

When Lao Wu stalked toward them, the careful blankness he’d worn below was gone. This was a working man’s face, focused and hard. He was shouting before he reached them.

Mei Lin’s eyes went wide.

“He says—” She held onto the railing. “He says we have to jump from this boat onto that one.”

“No.” Ethan glared at the fisherman. “Tell him no. That won’t work. You’re sick.” Even healthy, it was a crazy plan. There must be a ladder. There had to be another way.

She translated.

The fisherman barked something before she’d even gotten the words out, not even looking at them. He was watching the black boat, which had come close enough now that Ethan could see two men.

Mei Lin’s hand tightened on his sleeve. “He says this is it. We jump onto the boat, or we jump in the water. Either way, we go now.”

The wiry deckhand was at the rail, hurling fat orange foam bumpers over the side and paying the lines out fast.

The black boat’s engine got louder as it closed the gap. It barely slowed.

Lao Wu held up his hand, five fingers spread. “Ten,” he said, because why should anything make sense? Then he added something in Mandarin.

“When it gets here, we have ten seconds, and then he’s leaving.”

“Life vests.” Ethan caught Mei Lin’s shoulder but spoke to the fisherman. “Please. A vest for her at least.”

She got the words out.

The fisherman scowled and turned away.

If Ethan had time, he’d deck the guy. But the speedboat was alongside them now. The bumpers groaned between the hulls. One man stayed at the wheel. Another grabbed a line the fisherman tossed down. Both were hooded and wore dark glasses, their mouths set tight. One of them lifted a hand and gestured for them to hurry.

At the rail, Lao Wu’s eyes went wide.

His mate was pointing upward.

The low whomp whomp of a helicopter’s blades rose above the surf and engine noise.

The fisherman’s fear solidified into fury.

“Go.” Ethan squeezed Mei Lin’s arm. “You can do this.” If she didn’t, he’d dive into the water right after her. Surely, these men wouldn’t leave them to drown.

But the helicopter was getting closer, and apparently neither the fisherman nor the smugglers wanted to be caught.

Mei Lin’s expression shifted to determination. He helped her over the railing. She stood there a beat, then pushed off and landed on the boat ten feet below.

Ethan’s heart had jumped with her.

The man grabbed her and pushed her out of the way.

Another man Ethan wanted to deck. He climbed over the railing.

Lao Wu engaged the engine, and he felt it rumble just as he was hurling himself off.

His feet hit the smaller boat. The floor pitched beneath him, and his arms swung, reaching for something, anything to grab onto before he fell backward into the frigid sea.

The man grabbed his arm and shoved him toward Mei Lin.