The door slammed.
Before I could get to my feet, I saw him tightening down another set of flex cuffs, securing the handle to that fucking little hook beside it.
There was no other exit.
I flew to my feet, jiggling the door, ramming it. All the while watching that man lean down, grab Noa, and sling her over his shoulder again.
I could see her face more clearly now.
Unharmed, as far as I could tell. But she was conscious, not knocked out. That glassy, unseeing look in her eyes, though, told me everything I needed to know. She wasn’t fighting back because she was drugged.
He was going to get down onto that boat of his… and disappear with her.
A sound escaped me then that was half growl, half keening.
I ran back to the bedroom, finding my phone, and bringing it up to my ear. There was almost no chance that even if any of the guys were in Miami, that they were close enough to cut off that boat making it to shore.
But I needed help.
I dialed my brother and listened to the ring as I charged at and rammed the door.
Once. Twice.
“What the fuck is that?” Dixon asked, sounding like I’d woken him up.
“He took Noa.”
“What? Who?”
“The guy. The one who’s been chasing us. He took Noa.”
“Are you still on the boat?”
“I am, but she isn’t. He’s taking her off now. Get everyone the fuck up.”
I hung up as panic tightened around my throat, making it hard to breathe, let alone talk.
I ran back further, then went at the door full-force.
I saw a crack in the doorway, the salty air sneaking in.
The flex ties were loosening. I just had to keep going until they broke completely… or there was enough room for me to stick my hand out and snip them with scissors or saw them with a knife.
My phone rang in my pocket.
I let it.
They could figure out their next moves without me. I needed to focus on mine.
It took three more slams to get just a three-inch gap.
I ran back to the kitchen, grabbing the most serrated knife, and went back to saw at the zip cuff until, with a dramatic fling of the door, they gave.
I ran toward the stern where I knew the tender (the small boat for fun or, yeah, quick escapes) was located.
If I ever lived to tell this tale, I would leave out the part where I slipped on the wet deck (and my wetter bandages) and landed hard on my ass.
I got myself up and made my way to the control panel I likely would have missed, if not for the note telling us how to use the spare boat.
