Page 128 of Fire Island
Thirty-Four
CALLUM
The radio dangles in my hand, the air leaving my lungs. I stare at the floor.
“Cal, you good?”
Emmett.
Thank fuck.
“No, bud. So far from fine, it may as well be in fucking space.”
“I’m coming.”
“Southern end, Em. As soon as you can.”
Snatching up my radio and phone, I sprint for Firefly. Evie may have taken the most direct path to the hut, but I’m taking the fastest one. I toss off the mooring lines and pull the fenders in like the fucking jetty’s on fire. I crank her over, and the engine roars to life as I shove the throttle forward, not waiting for the old girl to warm up.
Water churns behind us, and I send her south. Fast.
“Firefly to Coast Guard.”
“Coast Guard, responding. Over.”
“I’m leaving dock now. Anchor out of sight, Em.”
“Ten-four. Over and out.”
Not for the first time in my life, I’m so grateful for the only brother I’ve ever known. Emmett has my back. He has all of our backs. Always.
Fuck, we’d be lost without him.
Every chop Firefly buffets over sends my nerves closer and closer to the edge. To the tipping point that I’ve stayed away from for decades. A dangerous man is the one who is about to lose the only thing he cares about. Having nothing to lose is a privilege I no longer have. I have everything to lose.
My entire world.
She is my entire world.
And I will tear this one apart to keep her safe.
If I make it in time . . .
The southern tip comes into view a few minutes after I’ve radioed Em. His big-ass boat will no doubt be thundering its way over the water toward our position.
He can take these fuckers in.
If I don’t end them first.
When the rocky outcrop that protects the little strip of beach I use for hunting is close enough, I kill the engine and glide Firefly in, sending her bow south. The lapping water pushes her toward the rocks, and I can step off from here and run up the beach if I have to. The wind travels to the west, so any engine noise should have drifted over the water and not the island.
“Come on, baby girl.”
I pocket the radio and phone, then pull open the cabinet under the console, searching for binoculars. Finding an old set, I rip them from the pouch and stalk to the gunwale to see what I can. The island is quiet. The forest shrouds its inhabitants well, keeping prying eyes from seeing inside her emerald paradise.
“Evie McCreary.” Emotion closes my throat, my hands tightening around the binoculars. “Show your face, beautiful.”
As if she can hear me, I keep talking. Keep telling her I’m coming in to bring her out if she doesn’t show. Convincing myself I did the right thing, letting her go by herself. But hell, this feels anything but right. I should be with her. I should be sorting out those fucking animals. They should cease to exist for the torment they have created.
