Page 19 of Turn the Tide
More than luck. Divine intervention. “Think they’ll come after us?”
“They’re still shooting, but unless they’ve got a high-powered rifle, they won’t—” He jumped back as something connected where his hands had been, sending shards of plastic in all directions.
She ducked and rolled into a tight ball.
“Shit!”
“What?” she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew his answer.
“They’ve got a high-powered rifle. Stay down.”
He swerved the boat to the side, taking them off what she’d assumed was a straight course for the mainland. Totally unabashed, Zoe pressed the side of her face against his leg. Its surface was cold and wet, but there was an underlying warmth there. And comfort.
He sped on for a few more seconds before what was probably a spotlight turned on, blinding Zoe and turning them into a target. She shielded her eyes against him, shuddering now.
A shot popped in the distance, and less than a second later, somethingthunkedfaintly against the side of the boat. Eric ducked down beside her. Another distant crack, then another, followed by two splashes, then apuck, this sound louder than the first.
“Shit.”
“What?” Did she even want to know?
“See that compartment there? I want you to crawl over, open it, and grab everything you find inside.”
A smell assailed her—gas. “They hit the fuel tank.”
No. No, she’d been happier without knowing that. Were they about to blow up?
“Yeah. We’re leaking. With any luck, we’re out of range now, but she’ll be dead in the water soon.”
“So, we—”
He stood and guided the slowly chugging boat into the darkness ahead of them. “We swim.”
No way.Zoe sat blinking up at him, mouth open, limbs heavy. With the adrenaline seeping out of her like…well, like gas from this boat, there was nothing left to keep her from collapsing. Or freaking the hell out.
“Zoe. You need to grab the gear. All of it. Let’s go.”
Boneless, trembling, and closer to dying than she’d ever been, she had two choices. And one of them wasn’t even a choice, actually. So, she shook her head, tightened up her body one muscle at a time, and followed his directions. Instead of giving up, she kept going.
“What’s in here?” she asked as she grabbed a plastic-wrapped pack.
“Survival gear.”
“In plastic.”
“We’re on the water. Pointless if it gets wet. Grab that pile of clothes and my shoes. Stick ’em in one of those plastic bags, and seal it up tight. Double bag it. These, too.” He pulled a black gun from a lockbox and handed it to her. “The weapon I took from the goons is at the bottom of the ocean. Let’s keep this one dry.”
She stared at it for a few seconds before taking it with numb fingers.I’m holding a gun.
Okay. No use freaking out about that. Not after she’d been shot at.
Concentrating on her duties, she could slow her breathing and relax a bit, although the trembling got worse. Cold. It was so darned cold. Was it shock or the elements? Both?
She grabbed the stuff, pulled it next to her, and scooted up against his legs, the only warm spot around. And not just warm, if she was being honest, but steady. Safe. “We gonna make it?”
“To the mainland? Hell, no. Fuel’s leaking like a sieve.”
“San Elias, then.”
