“I need to tell you something.”
“Later.”
“But—”
He stop-signed her with his hand then popped his fingers against his mouth for her to be quiet. She nodded, but her eyes said she was fighting the urge to argue.
“We’ll head northwest across the Gulf.” Mitch tucked his gun in his leg holster.
“I’ll take one of the Q40s and head south,” Keith said.
“Sounds good. CT may think we all were headed to the Keys.”
“Hey, we’ll grab a beer or two at the Mariner’s when this is over,” Keith said, as he and Mitch fist-bumped.
“You got it, big guy. That’s a promise I can keep.” Mitch grinned then glanced toward the pier. “Thanks for having our backs. I owe you one.”
“You’d do the same.”
Mitch led the group as the three of them ran low and fast across the short stretch of sand until they reached the two Q40s tied up at the pier.
Taking the first one in line, Keith jumped onboard and tapped the navigation screen. “Damn, first my tech-band gets busted during the fight. Now, there’s a black screen of death on my ride. Nothing’s working for me tonight.”
“Use mine.” Mitch yanked the tech-band from his arm and handed it to Keith. “Find us once you think it’s safe.”
“I’ll use the muffler silencer till I’m a good way down the shoreline. Then I’ll rev the engine and kick it in high gear in the other direction. Maybe I can lure them off of you for a while.” With a grunt, Keith strapped on the tech-band and took off across the water at a slow and easy pace.
Mitch straddled the other Q40, motioning Liz onto the back.
She didn’t move. Just looked at him. Looked at the whitecaps rolling in. Looked back at him with scared eyes. Suddenly, gunshots echoed across the marsh from the direction of the beach house they’d fled.
Things had just amped up a hundred percent, and that meant only one thing—the two of them were on their own. Help wouldn’t be coming any time soon. And, even if it did, they’d be better off completely gone. Evidently, this case had cascading undertones none of them were grasping.
“Get on, Liz.”
“Life jackets?”
“Nope. Now, get on.”
She shook her head. “I tried to tell you back there.”
“What?” If he had to get off the Q40 to set her on, he was not going to be happy. “What’s so damn important that you won’t get on?”
“I’m afraid.”
“I’ve got you.” He held out his hand.
“What if I fall off?” Her voice trembled with fear, but still she reached out to him.
“I’ll stop. You get back on. End of story.”
“Okay. But for the record…” She stepped from the pier onto the Q40 footrest, straddled the seat, and slid up close behind him. Wrapping her arms tight around his waist, she leaned her lips toward his ear, “I can’t swim.”
Chapter Six
Even with the darkness of night, Liz was close enough to read the furrows in Mitch’s brow, the pinch of his eyebrows, as he halfway turned to face her. She should probably have mentioned not swimming back at the beach house.
“Say again.” He placed his gun in an open compartment next to the Q40’s dash panel, his earpiece beside the gun.
