Off to the right, Reese slammed the cover on the Q40 back in place. “I just got it finished. Let’s hope it starts. Had to use parts from the other smashed PWC on this one.”
No more parts meant no more rides. Mitch zeroed in on the fact that none of the other team members would be able to head out with him. Okay. Most of the time he preferred being alone anyhow. No one there trying to tell him what to do.
“Help me get this Q40 in the water,” Mitch shouted as Stealth ran up.
“Even if the thing starts, you won’t have sonar. Lights are a question,” Reese said.
“No problem. Josh is on top of computer tracking. I got my earphones. He’ll guide me.”
Stealth and Reese dragged the Q40 to the edge of the Gulf. Helped Mitch onto the machine so he didn’t have to hoist himself up and walked him out past the waves.
He pressed the ignition. Nothing. Tried again. Still nothing. He opened a compartment on the dash panel, banged on the inside a couple of times, then pressed the ignition again. The engine roared to life. Lights came on. Radio crackled then cleared to a fine hum.
Shifting settings, he gave it a little power, and the runner lurched forward. Lights went out. He pushed to full throttle. “That’s okay. Just means the son of a bitch won’t see me coming.”
Chapter Twenty-Nine
For the past hour, Mitch had fought the sharp raindrops hammering his face. Clouds had moved across the Gulf, blocking what little light there’d been from the moon. Wind had increased. Waves were choppy bordering on straight, long, and powerful. Unseen until they were on you. He’d ridden a couple of them up their sides. Luck had been with him, and they hadn’t broken before he’d shot across the top.
With nothing visible on the screen, he was at his mind’s mercy. Gripping the Q40 handles wasn’t bad, but the slam back on the water from the waves kept his wounded shoulder in constant pain. Suffice it to say, running flat-out in the pitch dark—alone—sucked.
“Mitch.” Josh’s voice sounded loud and clear through the earphones.
“Yeah.”
“You got two choppers heading your way. Both from the same general direction.”
“Who?”
“One is for sure Water Patrol.”
He liked the sound of that. Maybe they’d be able to give some assistance if necessary. “What about the other one?”
“Don’t know. They’re both a few miles off.”
Specifics would have been better, but he’d take everything he could get right now. He was responsible for all this. Responsible for his team. Responsible for Liz.
“You guys need me for anything, let me know,” Mitch said.
“Sure. Whatever you say.” Josh sounded amused.
“What’s so funny?”
“You. Still telling us what to do when you’re out in the middle of the Gulf and we’re here safe in your house. Don’t you ever think about yourself?”
What had he told his brother back in San Diego? No, what had his brother told him? About not needing his help. Said he should get his own life. Think about himself.
Hell, how could he have a life of his own when all he’d ever known was how to be responsible? Even before the night his dad had been killed, he’d always felt responsible. For his siblings. For his parents. For everybody and anything. That’s why he’d even been at the grocery store with his dad—he’d felt responsible for him working the extra hours. One of the mouths needing to be fed.
“Just remember I’m still the team leader for this assignment.” Mitch made sure his tone said he was in control.
“Try to remember that you’re only human, too.” Drake’s tone gave no room for rebuttal. “Keep us informed on your status.”
Mitch felt like he was running on empty. “You mean let you know if I start to bleed out?”
“Something like that.”
“By the way, where’s Reese? I don’t hear his sarcasm in all this.”
