He staggered to his feet, following Brigid back onto the boat. “Here.” He pulled her down to the wide bench seat and rested the rifle on the back deck of the boat, putting the butt against her shoulder. He took her finger and placed it on the trigger. “Fire toward the beach.” She didn’t have to hit anything, but they’d slow down if there was return fire. “Make sure you stay down.” He tumbled over the front seat, searching for the key. No key. Damn it.
Running boots echoed across the stone walk. He kept low and scrambled for the jockey box, ripping it open and feeling around. Something cut his hand. A bobber had caught his finger, and he pulled out the key. Bullets pinged along the beach.
Brigid returned fire, yelling as she did so. That was fine. It wasn’t like the enemy had lost track of them. He glanced over his shoulder to see her spraying the beach and the stone walkway intermittently. She hit several trees as well.
He ducked and shoved the key in, hoping somebody had driven the boat lately and there weren’t tons of gas fumes trapped near the engine. He didn’t have time to use the blower. “Keep firing, Irish,” he bellowed, hoping they weren’t about to explode.
“I’m out of bullets. He didn’t have many.” Brigid crawled up next to him and started to rise. The boat drifted sideways toward the beach.
Bullets clacked into the wooden dock, close to the boat. He pushed her down, trying to protect her head. “Stay down there.” Then he twisted the key, and the twin engines roared to life.
More men, all armed, ran down the steps toward the dock. A man up above kept firing wildly, sending water spraying up. The moron would hit the engine at some point.
Keeping calm, shoving all emotion into another world, Raider pulled out the gear shift, shoved it back in, and bent the throttle forward. The boat jumped to life, and he pressed the throttle all the way down, roaring away from the dock with a spray of water. More bullets impacted all around them, and pain lashed into his hip. He dropped to the seat, turning the wheel and driving into the darkness.
Soon only the roar of the engines filled the night.
Brigid clamped both hands on the other leather seat and hauled herself upright. The wind whipped her hair around, but she turned and looked at the other homes along the point. “I can’t believe that worked,” she called, her voice sounding lost.
“Me either,” Raider said grimly, tugging his phone from his pocket and pressing speed dial. “Force? We’re on a boat heading for shore, and I’ve been shot. Have Wolfe pick us up at Devereux Beach. ASAP.”
A light flashed from the shoreline, and he paused for the briefest of seconds as his mind registered what he’d seen. “Shit!” He dropped the phone and dove for Brigid, taking her over the back of the speeding boat. They hit the churned-up water hard and went under.
He kept a strong hold on her and kicked to the surface just as the boat exploded, splintering fire, fiberglass, and wood in every direction. Brigid yelped, and he took her under again, letting the fire blow across the water where they’d just been. He held her under as long as he could and then looked up, finding a dark place to rise.
She sucked in air in large gasps, and he did the same. Fiery debris continued to fall all around them. “What in the world just happened?” she croaked, holding on to his shoulders as the water bobbed them around.
“Rocket launcher,” he said, looking toward the dark shoreline. He’d recognized the sound in a split second. Who would’ve thought Eddie Coonan had a rocket launcher he could fire from the beach? The damn thing must’ve been on a four-wheeler. “I underestimated that jackass.” His head ached, his hip hurt, and his chest felt like he’d landed on concrete. “You okay?”
“Yes.” She wiped salt water out of her eyes. “We have to get out of here.”
“Yes.” He let the water hold them up, but it was starting to push them toward the shore. “Tell me you can swim.”
Her thick hair darkened in the water. “I can swim. How about you? You were shot.”
“I’m fine.” They’d see if his legs continued to work or not. He pointed to a distant shore. “I’d rather swim there, if we can.” It was where he’d told Angus to have Wolfe meet them. “It’ll be safer than trying to run along the beach.” A boat engine ignited in the distance. He grasped her arm and started to swim around burning fiberglass. “Let’s get away from the wreckage and into the darkness before they reach this area.”
It was their only chance.
Chapter Eighteen
Brigid could barely kick as they finally reached the dark beach, and she couldn’t even imagine how Raider was still swimming. She crawled up the sand and flopped there for a moment, letting gravity take her. Sand covered the side of her face, but she didn’t care.
Raider landed next to her and turned onto his back, breathing heavily. The ocean rolled in, spraying them as if sorry to let them go.
Wolfe came out of the darkness, silent and deadly. “Thought I might have to swim out and get you two. Saw the explosion and then spotted the two of you pretty quick, swimming. Trained with the SEALs for a bit, but I was meant for something else.”
Tears pricked Brigid’s eyes. Safe. Wolfe would have a car, and they could get out of there. First one boat, and then several, had started searching the bay and areas along the beach. She and Raider had ducked under too many times to count, and she had started losing hope they’d ever reach shore. “It’s good to see you, Wolfe.” She turned on her side and coughed out sea water.
“You too.” Wolfe grasped Raider’s arm and hauled him up. The soldier’s dark hair, clothing, and even boots blended right into the night. “Where you shot?”
“Hip,” Raider said. “I can walk.”
Wolfe leaned down and plucked Brigid right off the sand. “Okay. Follow me.” He was warm and hard, and she wanted to snuggle into his chest, but it didn’t seem right. Her body was pretty much a limp noodle at this point, and she didn’t have any fight left in her. Not right now.
They reached a nondescript silver car, and Wolfe gently placed her in the back seat. No light came on when he opened the door. “I don’t have a blanket.” Without missing a beat, he ripped off his huge T-shirt and handed it over. “Do you need help?”
“No.” She shivered violently and tried to reach for the shirt, but her fingers refused to work.
