Page 8 of The Last Kingdom

He wasn’t going to take any crap off these two. “Then you shouldn’t have taken so long. All I heard was rattling around. I thought you were briefed on where to look.”

“Don’t you worry about what we were told,” Lexi said. “We did our job.”

“Yeah. Right. You kicked the damn thing open. Why didn’t you just do that to start with?”

He knew the answer. The idea had surely been to retrieve the book without revealing they’d actually been there.

“I tried to tell the prince that this one was trouble,” Christophe said. “But he would not listen. Maybe now he will.”

Luke shrugged. He’d dealt with idiots like this all of his life. People too arrogant to know how stupid they really were. “Please do. I wasn’t planning on reporting anything to the prince. But I will now. Especially the part about the photos in this camera.”

“How about I just shoot you,” Christophe said.

“You can try.”

And he meant it.

He’d always been blessed with a toned body undamaged by alcohol, cigarettes, or drugs. He’d spent seven years in the military, going right from high school to the Army and Ranger training. Sixty-two days of hell. One of the toughest experiences on earth. He’d passed, which was admirable considering the failure rate hovered around sixty percent. The whole idea had been to learn how to push yourself to the max. To do what you never thought possible. Twenty hours of training per day, all while eating two or fewer meals, with an average of three hours of sleep. He’d carried ninety pounds of weapons, equipment, and ammunition and patrolled more than two hundred miles across the training course.

And survived.

With his head held high.

So dealing with a cocky ass bully who thinks he knows a winnable fight when he sees one was a piece of cake.

“What’s so important here?” he asked, motioning to the book Lexi held. “Why all the fuss?”

“Not your concern,” Christophe said.

It was worth a try. That book was obviously important. They’d taken a lot of chances to get it. Too many really. And now the damn thing was out in the open. In play. How was he going to get hold of it, or even sneak a look?

Good question.

But he’d figure something out.

He looked around at the black water and noticed lights speeding their way. A boat? Then muzzle fire. Rounds whizzed by.

“Get down,” he yelled.

He and Lexi hit the deck.

Christophe crouched low, alternating his attention from what was ahead to what was following.

* * *

COTTON WORKED HIS WAY FROM THE FERRY’S LOWER DECK, UPthrough the spacious interior cabin that held a few passengers, to a staircase that led to the bridge. He hopped up the metal risers, burst into the small cabin that accommodated the pilot, and did not bother with an introduction. Instead, a hard-right uppercut sent the uniformed man to the floor, not moving.

“Sorry about that,” he said.

He gripped the ship’s wheel and pushed the throttle forward, increasing the engine’s rev and the ferry’s speed. Luke’s boat was off the port bow, the other one firing a weapon off the starboard but closing the gap. He figured he had the advantage of size and power so he increased the throttle.

The boat lurched from the added horsepower and the bow planed with the new speed.

* * *

LUKE SAW THE BIG FERRY HEADING ON AN INTERCEPT COURSEbetween where they were located and the boat firing on them.

That could not be happenstance.

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