Page 111 of Viper

“Let’s go, brother,” Havoc urged. “Time to take your woman home.” His friend’s hand curled around his shoulder.

Craig let out a sputter of blood, vomit, and spit, his head hanging. The douchebag had passed out.

“All right. Help me get him upstairs.” Troy reached for the knife handle sticking out of Craig’s hand and yanked.

That woke him up.

Craig’s ear-piercing yell rattled Troy’s eardrums. He ignored him and wiped the knife clean on the fucker’s pant leg, then tucked it back in its sheath.

Troy grabbed his ankles and Havoc seized him under the arms. They carried him up the stairs toward the stern.

The stench of gasoline hit his nose. Wraith returned to the kitchen with a jerry can in his hand, motioning them to go. “Leave him there.” Wraith pointed at the living room floor.

They dropped him near the couch. Wraith finished dumping the gasoline, being sure to splash Craig’s body.

“Is everyone off the boat?”

“Aye, they’re all in the raft. If there’s anything personal left, or anything that could be found and tied to you, get it now.”

Havoc nudged Troy’s arm. “Didn’t Paige have her phone here?”

“Shit, yeah she was in the bathroom when she called. Let me check quick.”

In the bathroom, Troy searched the medicine cabinet, then the cupboard beneath the sink. Sure enough, a small purse was stuffed behind some toilet paper. He pulled it out then returned to the living room. “All good.”

They walked to the stern. Paige, Reaper, and Striker waited in the raft. He climbed onto the inflatable and shuffled to the edge near Paige, making room for Wraith. He came next, then Havoc.

Striker cut the rope that tied the raft to the yacht and then pushed them away from the boat. Wraith passed Troy a Zippo lighter. “Want the honors?”

“Fucking right.” He ignited the flame, then tossed the lighter into a puddle of gasoline Wraith had poured on the stern.

Flames erupted. Heat blasted over the water, and Troy, Havoc and Wraith quickly paddled them back further. The fire took over, engulfing the yacht in its heat. Paige gripped his elbow. He lifted his arm and pulled her against his side.

“Is he⁠—”

“Ah! H-Help me!” Craig’s cries were swallowed by the fire.

“Ohmigod. He’s right there.” She buried her face.

Troy peered through the haze of smoke and spotted Craig dragging his body across the deck toward the stern. Soot covered him, and his shirt and shorts were tattered and burned. He reached for the raft as if he could grab on to them and pull them into his hell.

Troy covered Paige’s head with his hand, preventing her from peeking. Flames licked around Craig’s body. He heaved himself into the water and tried to paddle toward them, his guttural cries like something out of a nightmare.

“Good god,” Havoc said, appearing disturbed. “Can I please put a bullet in his head?”

Troy pressed his tongue to the backs of his teeth. He didn’t have a shred of sympathy for the bastard. If there was a guarantee he’d die out here, Troy would’ve been happy to leave him.

But Paige needed closure to move on. They all did.

He reached for his weapon and aimed it at Craig’s head.

Striker pushed his arm down. “Not yet.”

“No! G-Get it away!”

Troy jerked his attention to the large gray fin circling Craig’s body. A chill raced down his spine. Holy shit.

Paige wiggled out of his hold and lifted her head. Her mouth dropped open at the sight of the shark. “Guys. We need to back up!”