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“Swim, Aleksei,” she shouted.
Ah, my sweet, obvious, little one. Still quite a distance from the yacht, both Roman and I swam toward the life preserver. He reached it first, collapsing onto the floating ring and panting. I had enough strength to make it back to the yacht without it, but as I passed too close, his foot shot out and kicked me viciously in the ribs. It sent me swirling further from the boat while giving him a push closer to it. Holding onto the ring, he aimed for the ladder hanging over the side of the yacht, the top of which was just a few feet from Theresa. Panic that he’d reach it before me made me swim like I was trying to break a world record.
“Aleksei, stop,” she shouted from above.
I paused long enough to look up to see her aiming a gun at Roman, who had stopped swimming and glared up at her while clinging to the life ring. I stayed where I was, treading water to regain my breath, too exhausted for the moment to do more than wave weakly at her. If I’d been proud before, I was overwhelmed by her quick thinking and bravery now. She kept the gun trained on him as I swam toward the ladder.
“I’m coming,” I called, still panting. “Hang on, Theresa.” I turned to Roman, who looked broken, and like he might be on the verge of a heart attack. “Stay where you are, old man. I’ll pull you up, and we’ll see if you can act civilized.”
Grabbing onto the bottom rung, I started hoisting myself up, only to feel a hand wrap around my ankle and yank me back. Once again I splashed back down and under the water. A fist rammed into my face, and feet kicked at my legs. Roman wasn’t going to act civilized. He was determined to die. We broke the surface at the same time, Roman a blur of flailing fists. He got me hard enough under the jaw that my head whipped back, making everything go white. I heard a scream and water filled my nose again, bringing me around enough to pop my head above water. Roman was on the ladder, heading for Theresa. I plunged forward to grab him back and finish him with my bare hands if I had to.
As soon as I had my hand on the bottom rung, he kicked me in the face. “I won’t stand for this humiliation and betrayal, Morozov,” he roared. “You have chosen death.”
Like hell. He wasn’t getting anywhere near Theresa.
“Not if I kill you first,” I grunted, spitting out the blood that poured from my nose.
His damn foot said otherwise, and he kicked me hard enough to dislodge my grip. The second I splashed backwards, a shot rang out.
Roman’s hands went slack on the ladder, and he slid almost gracefully into the sea, leaving a ribbon of blood as he slowly sank below the waves. Theresa had shot him, and he wasn’t coming back up. The sob from above told me she realized what she’d done, and I scrambled up the ladder.
“You did good, little one.” I eased the gun from her shaking hands and set it on the ground at our feet before gathering her into my arms. “You did the right thing.”
“Is he dead?” she cried into my chest, her whole body trembling.
“Yes,” I told her. There was no mincing words in a situation like that.
She looked up at me with tears still rolling from her eyes. “Good,” she hissed, dropping her face back to my chest. “I was scared I’d hit you, that’s why I waited so long.”
I shook my head, stroking her hair. “It was perfect timing. You’re amazing.”
A creaking sound behind us had me whipping around. One of Pavlov’s men, dragging his injured leg behind him, crept up on us. Theresa dropped and grabbed the gun.
“Get away from us,” she screamed, shooting blindly and staggering back onto her butt from the recoil.
The shot went wild, dinging off the brass railing and embedding into the side of the wheelhouse. It stunned the injured man long enough for me to race over and disarm him. He’d lost so much blood from the bullet to the leg, he didn’t have much fight left in him, but he gave it his best try, lashing out at me with his fist.
“Your boss is dead,” I told him, grabbing the waving hand and pinning it behind his back. “It’s over. There’s nothing more for you to do.”
He grunted and passed out, his chin hitting the deck with a thud. The captain ran out of the wheelhouse, far more hysterical than Theresa was a moment ago, and she’d actually been helpful. Hell, she’d saved my life.
“What the fuck is going on?” he yelled. “This was supposed to be a romantic day cruise.”
“Everything’s fine now,” I said calmly. Much more calmly than I felt, certain this attack on me was only part of Roman’s plan for revenge.
“Like hell it is,” the captain said. “Look around you. There are dead men everywhere. My boat…”
It hardly seemed the time to be worrying about damages, but I assured him I had it covered. “Can you get us back to shore?”
He nodded and took a deep breath, seeming to realize that was the quickest route away from all the corpses. “Yes, we’re still operational, but the radio’s shot to shit, so I can’t call the authorities.”
“Good,” I said. “Don’t want them and don’t need them. Just go as fast as this tug will take us.”
He marched resignedly back into the wheelhouse and, a moment later, I heard the whir of the anchor rising. Theresa crawled over to where I still had my knee on the unconscious man’s back and sat beside me on the deck. She had a faraway look in her eyes, most likely the beginning of shock.
“It started out pretty romantic,” she said, looking at me with a weak smile. “I hope our next date is less… bloody.”
I leaned over our hostage and pulled her in for a kiss. “You and me both. Now be a good girl, and find me some zip ties.”
