Page 217 of Forever Never
54
Icy water misted over her, soaking her sweatshirt. The dark was losing its battle to dawn, and once there was enough light, he’d know that she’d double-crossed him.
The cold barrel of the gun jabbed at her neck. “Go faster,” Warren snarled.
“You got a death wish, jackass? These are the Straits of Mackinac. If I don’t pilot us carefully, we’ll end up dead on the rocks.”
“I don’t care. If you don’t want me to put a hole in your useless little friend here, you’ll go faster.”
Grimly, Remi gunned the engine and enjoyed watching him stumble back as the boat picked up speed. The barrel of the gun no longer pressed against the base of her skull.
She’d taken Duncan Firth’s boat. The only one she knew for sure that would have a tracking device on it. The entire island knew he kept the key under a life preserver.
Camille had come to just before Warren dropped her unceremoniously in the bottom of the boat. She now sat huddled on the floor of the boat. Barely visible under the orange life jacket Remi had shoved her into as Warren cast off the lines.
Dawn was breaking. She had to time this right. She couldn’t get Camille to safety without knowing Brick could get to her fast.
There was a hand in her hair, yanking her head back sharply. She let go of the accelerator, and the boat slowed, knocking his body into hers.
“Don’t fuck with me, you pathetic excuse for a female.”
“What’s with the ‘female’ thing. You can’t say the word woman? Is it too hard for you, you tiny-dicked son of a bitch?”
He hit her in the jaw, snapping her head back and stunning her for a second. But she spotted what she’d been waiting to see, and it brought a wicked grin to her face.
“Where the fuck are we?” Warren growled. “That’s not the mainland.” The spotlight she’d played ahead of the boat bobbed from water to rock through the fog.
Remi made eye contact with Camille. “Jump,” she mouthed.
Camille shook her head.
“Jump,” Remi mouthed again.
Her friend shot her a “We are going to have words about this later” look. But carefully slid up onto the bench seat.
“Where’s the bridge? This isn’t right.”
It hurt to breathe. Her airway constricted.
Round Island’s decommissioned lighthouse loomed ahead of them out of the mist.
A spotlight caught him in its beam. Red and blue lights flashed out of the fog. The sound of a big boat engine was deafening. Brick. Brick was here.
“Mackinac PD. Hands up, Vorhees.”
When he swung his gun hand up and around toward the light, Remi shouted, “Now!”
The second she saw Camille disappear over the side, Remi hit the accelerator, and the runabout surged forward.
Warren was unprepared for the shift in his center of gravity, and his shot went wide as he fell into the bottom of the boat.
Lungs burning, Remi had one last play. She gunned the engine and headed around the rocks toward the beach. If she could keep him off balance, he couldn’t shoot anyone. And if she could make it to shore, there was a good chance she could get far enough away that Brick could shoot the son of a bitch.
Sweat and lake water dampened her skin as she swung the bow of the boat around in a tight turn. Warren slammed to the side behind her.
Just a few hundred more feet. Just a little bit farther. Brick had to stop to pick up Camille. She just needed to buy herself a minute, two tops.
But the cold barrel found its way to the base of her neck again.
