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Shots ring out, sending my security team into action. One of them practically tackles me to the ground while protecting my head. The other two crouch in defensive positions, raising their guns and aiming them toward the end of the boardwalk.
But there’s no one there. The hill rises to the left, leading toward the country club that should be brimming with life on the porches. Screams echo somewhere in the distance and the distinct, high-pitched cry of the word gun, but I can’t see anything.
More shots ricochet through the air. I scream while extending my hand toward Parker, trying to get him to duck. My security team returns fire at one of the porches above us, bullets clinking loudly off the stone structure.
Osmond lunges in front of Parker as a wave of bullets rains toward him. When Osmond hits the ground, he rolls, leaving behind a long trail of blood as he flops toward the edge of the pier. My security guard hauls me up and shoves me into the boat.
“Go, Ms. Moretti. Now.”
“But Parker—”
The guard grabs Parker by the scruff and shoves him in my direction. Parker looks utterly horrified while trying to drop to the edge of the pier, his arms extended toward his father’s motionless body bobbing in the water. I grab his arm and yank him into my boat.
“Come on,” I urge. “We have to go. We have to get out of here.”
“Ms. Moretti, go!” the guard shouts while turning to face the unknown shooter. He and the others defend our position while I start the boat. “Get out of here!”
My heart lodges in my throat as I start the engine and race off. Everything happens so fast that I almost don’t have any time to let it settle in. I’m heading toward the ship, the one that Osmond got for his family from my best friend’s father. It’s so weird to think about that now and to look at Parker, to see his terrified expression and the way he stares behind us.
Osmond floats lifelessly away from the pier. His body shuffles with the rhythm of the waves I’ve kicked up behind us, the water around him darkening viciously. The sunlight winks on the surface of the water and illuminates the rich red, the sight of which makes me physically ill. He was just describing that to me about my father—and now I’m witnessing it with him.
I hold my forehead while I slow the boat down. We’re alone on the water. The shooter has either disappeared, or he’s been apprehended by my team. Or I could be wrong and my team is completely dead. I have no idea. I’m not going back right now.
“Dad,” Parker whispers. His knuckles turn white as he grips the side of the boat. “What the fuck just happened, Alex?”
I grab his shoulders and turn him toward me. “Hey, breathe.”
His jaw tenses. “I am breathing, you dumb whore.”
“Shut up and breathe.”
His eyelids flutter as he sniffles, chest rising and falling erratically as he attempts to suck in enough air. I yank his head to my chest and hold him steady while running my fingers through his hair.
“Listen to my heart,” I whisper to him as his hands circle my waist. “Just try to breathe with me, okay?”
After a few rounds of deep breaths, the shivering subsides and he clings to me, nose shoved into my cleavage like it’s the only thing keeping him stable. And maybe it is. Who fucking cares? We literally just escaped death again.
“I’m calling it,” I state while adjusting his face so he can breathe properly. “Truce, okay? You hear me, Parker? Fucking truce. We can’t fight anymore.”
He nods eagerly. “Truce.”
“We have to team up against the Persian, or we’re dead.”
“You’re right. We need to work together.”
I swallow hard, trying to manage all my emotions at once while biting back a laugh. “Jesus, I never thought I would hear you say something like that.”
“Like what?”
“That I’m right.”
He wordlessly lifts his head and holds my waist loosely, his green eyes burning so intensely that they almost look like they’re made of Greek fire. “Don’t get used to it.”
“I won’t,” I whisper shakily. “You okay?”
“No.”
I nod slowly and then rest my hands on his shoulders. “I understand.”
