Total pages in book: 81
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75406 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 377(@200wpm)___ 302(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Something whizzes past my ear, followed immediately by the crack of a gunshot. Fuck, if we don't get on there quick, we're going to be target practice until they nail us.
“Hold on,” Wraith yells, then starts weaving as we approach. More gunshots, but I don't hear the bullets, so maybe the evasive maneuvers are working.
“Shit!” Tank yells and veers a moment before he's back on course.
Or maybe they're just shooting at him instead. He's still hunched over the handlebars and gunning his jet ski for the boat, though, so we’re all still breathing.
The icy spray hits my face and hands, making it hard to hold the gun in frozen fingers. My boots are fucking soaked and my jeans aren’t much better. If any of us fall in, we're fucked. It makes me grip Wraith's jacket a little harder.
Just a little farther.
The lights on the other side are getting closer, and we're right on their tail. The shooting’s died down, so either they're running low on ammo, or saving it for when we climb aboard. Hard to tell, but I'll take it.
“Gonna pull alongside,” yells Wraith. “Ready?”
“Fuck yeah!” Okay, jet skis are bullshit, but this is fun.
Hawthorne's up at the front of the boat, manning the wheel, while Harris has taken cover behind the front passenger seat, clutching Kaylee in one arm and aiming a gun right for us with the other.
Fuck.
“Going!”
I let go of Wraith and jump, hoping the force of the jet ski engine gives it enough stability for me to push off of.
I strike the side of the boat, half on, half off, my boots dragging in the water under me, threatening to rip me right off and dump me in the wake. Kaylee screams, a gun fires. A sharp line of pain starts at my shoulder and drags all the way down over my shoulder blade. I don't think it's serious, but that could just be the adrenaline talking.
I pull hard and roll forwards, getting my legs inside the boat. I strike the deck hard and dive down between the back bench and the fishing seat that's mounted there.
“You'll never get away from us,” I yell. “Hurt Kaylee, and you fuckers are dead.”
It's a stalemate. They know we're not gonna let them live at this point, and we're not gonna shoot until we know Kaylee's safe.
Something thunks against the back of the boat, right behind me, followed by the snap of shattering plastic and an engine grinding to a stop. I look behind and see bright yellow and orange jet ski parts shooting into the air, thrown up by the propeller. Wraith is still out on the left, matching speeds with us.
Fuck, what the hell are you doing, Tank? He didn't actually drop into the water, did he? My chest tightens at the thought. Me and Tank have been battle partners for way too long for me to lose him to something that fucking dumb. I wave my arm at Wraith, trying to signal for him to look behind the boat, but a bullet almost takes my fucking hand off, so I've got other things to worry about first. Hopefully, he saw it.
“They broke the propeller!” Hawthorne's playing with the throttle, but while there's a loud whine in the back that speeds and slows the engine, whatever connects that torque to the propeller isn't doing anything anymore. At least Tank managed to fuck up the engine, but goddamn it, I’m going to fucking kill him if he drowns.
“Jump off the boat now, and I won't fucking shoot you,” yells Harris. “Your buddy there can pick you up.”
I don't trust that fucker any farther than I can throw this boat. There's one row of seats before the open deck. I throw myself forwards, rolling from behind the fishing chairs and finding cover behind them. A shot goes off, just a hair too late, punching a hole in the back of the boat.
“Getting nervous, Harris?” I yell. That motherfucker is only giving me more and more reasons to fucking kill him.
“Come get me, you little shit,” he yells back. “I dare you to come gunning for me. I fucking dare you.”
“Jesus Christ, Harris. Just shoot him. We need to get this fucking boat running again.”
Wraith is back on the left side, but up around the bow, where he's hidden from the pilot's chairs, using the massive front of the boat for cover. He's shut off the jet ski, and he's pulling himself up. So if I can keep distracting Harris and Hawthorne, maybe he can get the jump on them.
“You've got Kaylee, but Hawthorne's in the open. Let her go, or I'll murder him instead.”
Harris laughs. “I don't give a fuck. He was more useful in jail, funneling me money and not whining.”
“You traitorous little shit! I was the one that promoted you in the first place! All these years of taking care of you, and you're ready to throw me overboard?”