“I don’t know if I’m gonna make it. The wound’s bleeding a lot. The world’s spinning. Feels like a freezer out here in this storm.” Gasping, Mitch concentrated on his words. “I need help. There’s no way I can do this by myself.”
“All you had to do was ask. What do you need?”
“Tell me what to do. Which way to turn. Keep me alert. Help me, guys. I need help.”
In the far distance, Mitch picked up on the searchlight from an approaching chopper sweeping the surroundings. At this distance, the eyes-in-the-sky crew still couldn’t get a visual on him. But they didn’t need a visual, they had radar and sonar zeroed in on everything in the area. He hoped like hell those were the good guys. If not, CT would blow him straight out of the water.
“Mitch! I’ve got you on the computer screen.” Josh’s calm tone had upped a notch. “You’re close. Veer right twenty degrees. There you go. Stay straight. You may be able to see the raft from where you’re at. Take a shot.”
“Seeing double now. Can’t take the chance of shooting Liz.”
Josh sighed. “Sorry. All I can do is guide you. I can’t aim the gun.”
“You got your knife?” Stealth asked.
“Yeah.” Mitch had no qualms about a hand-to-hand blade fight if he could get close enough. Hopefully, he still had a keg-load of adrenaline left to fuel his muscles.
“Then follow my lead. Don’t think, Mitch. Justdoeverything I say.”
“Got it.”
“Keep the Q40 straight. You’re right on target.” Stealth sounded like he was ordering dinner for take-out. Calm. Matter-of-fact. “Turn slight left…back a bit. Good. You’re closing. Closing. Accelerate. Accelerate. Click on the OPAQUE auto drive. Stand on the Q40 platform. You ready?”
“Yeah.” Years ago, Mitch had dreamed he’d die fighting in the ocean. Not today, though. Please not today. “What next, Stealth?”
“Unsheathe the knife. Feel the weight of the hilt in your palm. How do you plan to attack? How do you plan to fight? Grip the hilt. Tighter. Tighter. You can do this. Get ready…get ready…”
“I see the raft. See Liz. Slugger’s shooting wild in my direction.” Mitch fought to keep the world at a standstill. “Hell! Now I’m seeing triple.”
“Good! Target the center Slugger. Anddon’t miss. Jump!”
…
Cuffed to the pull rope at the side of the raft, Liz kept her eyes turned on Slugger and her mind trying to figure out how to get out of this mess. The sight of a bleeding Mitch on the floor back at his house kept flashing through her mind. He’d already been battered by Keith and Slugger, butthathe could have survived. Being shot in the chest by her father was another thing entirely.
She’d been surprised when Slugger had dragged her down to the beach and tied her hands to the rope along the edge of the assault-style motorized raft. They’d waited a couple minutes for her father. But when there were more gunshots up at the house and no one from CT came out, Slugger had looked nervous. Kept checking his gun. Glancing at her. And the moment he’d caught sight of Reese, Josh, and Stealth swimming steadily closer to shore, he’d gunned the raft’s engine and headed across the Gulf. That had been well over an hour ago.
First, her captor had tried to talk to someone on the raft’s communication system. When he told them how things had turned out, they’d hung up on him. Hadn’t answered or called back since. And for the past ten minutes, the raft seemed to be slowing down. Almost like its battery had run out of energy.
Slugger kept working on the motor. “Son of a bitch. What the hell’s wrong with this thing?”
Pretending to be incapacitated by the blinding rain and cold wind, she’d been able to huddle against the side trying to cut the rope with a piece of glass from her pocket. She’d given Mitch the sharpest chunk, and the small round pieces she still had didn’t work so well. Might take days to make a dent in the binding.
“Hey, I’m really cold. Have you got a solar blanket or anything I can use?” She tried to calculate how long until hypothermia might set in.
“If I had one, don’t you think I’d be using it?” Slugger steadied the portable spotlight and bent back over the engine then suddenly stood. Turned. Stared back in the direction they’d just come from.
She saw only darkness through the rain. But…she heard a distant hum coming closer and closer. Slugger pointed his gun at the oncoming sound and fired again and again. Lightning crackled across the sky. Illuminated the surroundings. Thunder rumbled as loud as fifty kettle drums being pounded in sync. She held her breath at the sight of a Q40 speeding out of the dark as it flew up and across a wave.
From the side of the machine, Mitch catapulted across the patch of water between the Q40 and the raft. He plowed into Slugger, ramming the knife deep in the man’s shoulder. Pulled the knife out, ready to strike again, but Slugger kicked the blade out of his hand then crashed the portable spotlight against his shoulder. Mitch roared like a wounded bear, wrapped his arms around Slugger, and took both of them over the side of the raft.
Liz stretched her leg toward the knife, reached it with the side of her foot. Carefully scooted it to her hands and cut herself free. Grabbing the spotlight, she pointed it at the two men battering each other in the rocky waves. Tossed the knife in Mitch’s direction fifteen feet away, but her aim took it to the water instead, and it sank.
Anger and hate covered Mitch and Slugger’s fight. Their noise of battle overrode the fury of the storm—grunts, shouts, fists hitting skin, gurgling as waves crashed over them. Gasps for air as they resurfaced. There was nothing she could do to help. Her insides tightened with the one sure factor—one of the men would not be getting back in the raft. It all depended on strength, power, and instincts for survival.
In the glow from the spotlight she still held, she saw the two men both seem to push away at the same moment. Slugger swam a few strokes to the side. Mitch paddled backward halfway to the raft, close enough to be heard, too far away to touch.
He glanced in her direction, his expression filled with pain and exhaustion.
