But he gives me nothing more than a sad look in reply.
I open my mouth to beg. To tell him I won’t say a word. But my throat is too tight. I’m going to die, in a green ball gown, on a boat in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
I won’t see Zach. I won’t get to touch him, to hold him. To tell him that I’m sorry Darien hurt him. I’m sorry he got involved in any of this.
Because it will be too late.
“Step away from her.”
Asher’s voice is calm, lethal, and coming from the backof the boat. He rises from the shadows like a ghost in black, gun pointed, eyes locked on Darien.
Relief rushes through me. Oh God, they stayed. They didn’t sacrifice me.
Darien turns abruptly, swinging the gun until it’s pointing toward Asher. Then he swings it back to me. From the corner of my eye I see something move to my left. Asher’s eyes catch mine like he’s trying to tell me something, but I don’t know what it is.
“I’ll shoot her, I fucking swear it,” Darien shouts out, grabbing me.
He puts the barrel against my ribs again, his arm tense enough to tremble. His breath is hot at my ear, sour with panic. He’s unraveling.
“Get off the fucking boat,” Darien orders. “Now.”
Asher doesn’t move. He doesn’t blink. “You pull that trigger and you won’t make it five seconds,” he says, his voice low.
“Darien,” I whisper. “Please. Remember who you are. You don’t hurt people.”
He jerks me closer, moving the gun up to my temple. “Shut up.”
Asher’s eyes flick behind Darien for a fraction of a second. And that’s when I feel it. A warm finger tapping my bare ankle.
Somehow, I know it’s Zach, hiding under the console. I keep my face as straight as possible, not wanting Darien to notice.
He’s too erratic, panicking like crazy. He moves the gun from me and points it at Asher again.
“Fuck off right now,” he snarls at him. “Now. Or I’ll?—”
He never finishes.
Because the next second Zach surges up next tome and lunges for Darien, reaching for his gun. The boat lurches sideways at the sudden move, and I stumble to the right, just as Zach closes his hand around Darien’s wrist.
And then a gun fires, the sound cracking through the night, followed by another shot. And I think my heart shatters into a thousand tiny pieces. And for the second time tonight, the man I love lets out a deep, agonizing cry and once again I hear the thud of his body hitting wood.
For a moment I can’t breathe. The world tilts, thrown off its axis. My hands slap flat against the deck as the boat rocks beneath us, the engine whining as it shifts in the water. My vision blurs, but not from fear. From pure horror.
“Zach!” I scream. “Oh my God, please be okay.”
Darien is writhing on the floor, still fighting, still snarling, the gun kicked out of his reach by Asher who has vaulted forward.
But I can’t look at any of that.
I crawl toward the place where Zach fell, the boards cold against my palms. The water’s slapping the hull, the men are grunting, the radio is crackling. But all I can see is Zach’s body lying on his side.
“Zach,” I shout again, even louder this time.
His eyes are half open, unfocused. Blood streaks down his temple and along his jaw. His lips curve when he sees me, faint but real.
“You’re so damn beautiful,” he murmurs. And then his eyes close, and I start to wail.
thirty-five
