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Batara’s men moved in on Katrina, pulling me back to guard her.
“Croygen!” she screamed in warning as Gou’s blade came down for me like a guillotine.
Bang!
I froze, trying to locate where the bullet hit me, when I saw Gou’s eyes widen. A hole through his brain. Blood gurgled out of his mouth, and his body fell to the ground, revealing his killer behind him.
Ty stood there, his gun still pointed, his features more dog-like than human. Cane was only a few feet away, barely standing, shooting at anyone near Katrina, his side still leaking blood, his brow dripping with perspiration.
“Thanks,” I breathed out.
“I did it for her,” he snarled, shooting at others as the four of us clustered together. I pilfered the weapon off Gou, his katana solid in my hand, and picked up a gun from another dead body, firing at the guards.
“Come on!” I motioned them to follow, slipping us up the plank of an old wooden fishing boat with a small wheelhouse. Helping his brother, Ty plunked Cane down at the bow next to Katrina, both firing at the enemy as Ty untethered us. He pushed us out as the tiny, motorized engine, the same ones the Somalia pirates used, tried to turn over.
“Come on, come on.” I tried to encourage it, the men only steps away from jumping on, their bullets splintering the wood of the boat.
The engine sputtered to life. “Go!” Ramming into reverse, the boat jerked back, struggling to keep up with my demand. Gunfire cracked along the tempered glass, forcing me to push harder on the throttle as I swung the wheel, curving us around, before slamming it into drive. The boat kicked forward with a sputter and cough.
“That would’ve been a lot fucking cooler if I was in a car,” I muttered, my adrenaline pounding in my veins.
Kat and Ty moved to the starboard side, shooting back. A strange sensation tickled at the back of my neck, pulling my focus as if my intuition just knew.
She stood behind the men in the dusk-lit alley, the shadows painting her hair a deep purple.
Amara.
Sucking in, I blinked, and when I looked again, the alley was empty.
I wanted to believe the murky darkness was playing with my mind, making me see her. That there was no way she would be here, but my gut knew better.
“Fuck.” I berated myself for being so stupid.
She knew about the safehouse. Amara was with me many times when a drug trade went bad and we had to hide there. We used the back exit before. She would know exactly where we were. Where I’d be hiding. How to trap us.
“Hurry!” Ty pounded on the window, breaking me out of my thoughts, noticing Batara’s men getting on fancier boats they had at the dock.
We weren’t safe until we got out to sea, to international waters.
The handful of boats with much better engines roared behind us, gaining speed quickly.
“Faster!” Ty yelled again.
“I can’t!” I snapped back. “This thing isn’t made for a boat race. Unless you and your brother want to jump out and lighten our load.”
Ty glowered back at me through the window.
“It’s an option.” I shrugged.
Bullets tore at the old rotting wood, the engine sputtering in strain.
“No, no, come on, baby.” Sweat dripped down my spine, and I pushed the throttle more. “Just a little more.” Passing some of Singapore’s old icons, I saw the open ocean past the Marina Bay. Two hundred nautical miles beyond that, we were free.
Hitting slightly rougher water, the boat’s engine crackled, dying out.
“Fuck!” I bellowed, trying to turn the engine over, only hearing it snort and gasp. “Please, please…”
Crack!
