Extreme Danger (McClouds & Friends #5)(35)

But he hadn’t been able to give up Becca’s.

The horizon opened up before them at the water’s edge, with the last of the sunset staining the sky, the fishy, weedy smell and gurgling of water all around them. There was no beach, no dock, just white roots sticking out over the dark water like bones, the water heaving and sucking and lapping beneath them.

He let himself noiselessly down into it, and grabbed Becca’s waist, expecting her to shift her weight for him. She went rigid, clinging to a tree, shaking. Seconds ticked away, lost forever.

He lifted his hands, rage pricking at his calm. “You’ve got two seconds to decide,” he said. “Come with me, right now, or go back to him. Try apologizing. Smile pretty. See where it gets you.”

She laid her shaking hands on his shoulders. He lifted her down.

She sucked in a sharp breath at the water’s icy bite and slogged clumsily after him, stumbling over boulders in the dark water.

She tripped, would have gone under if he hadn’t grabbed her. As it was, she was soaked up to her armpits now, teeth chattering.

Great. If she hadn’t been going into shock already, this would do the trick. He ducked under the low cave formed by a couple of dead trees that had fallen into the water, unmoored the camouflaged Zodiac Futura inflatable that he’d borrowed from Seth Mackey. He dragged it out.

An excellent toy. He had to get one of these for himself, if he survived. Powerful outboard motor. Speed tubes with hydrodynamic lift to zoom over the surface of the water. He heaved Becca into it. She rolled in like a sack of potatoes. He clambered in after her, braced for the slice of lights through the trees, gunshots.

Nothing yet. Too good to be true.

The motor hummed smoothly to life. He moved out to deeper water, trying to hug the shore until they rounded the curve, and then he let out the throttle.



Becca had never been so cold. She’d never imagined such cold. Every muscle of her body convulsed individually as they tried to heat her up. She dragged herself slowly up from her huddled position.

The wind slapped her, whipped at her wet hair, dragging tears from her eyes. She noticed in an emotionless way that her blouse had been torn from her shoulder on that rampage through the forest. It dangled in a sodden swag, completely exposing one goose-pimpled boob.

She barely noticed.

He was saying something. She leaned forward, struggled to hear over the roar of the wind in her ears. “Huh?”

“Thermal blanket,” he said, pitching his voice just loud enough to reach her ears and pointing. “There. Get it before you freeze.”

Her numb fingers were about as responsive as a bunch of stiff dead fish, but she finally found the thing, and clawed open the waterproof plastic packing. She wrapped it gratefully around herself.

She peered at Mr. Big as he gazed ahead. Hair flying back off his face, eyes narrowed against the wind, the image of stony concentration.

His sleeve was stained with blood up to the elbow.

Visions of what she’d just seen assailed her. Pools of blood, gaping slashes in thick throats. The stupid surprise on the face of the guy with the hole between his eyes.

She’d been pushed over so many unthinkable barriers today, she was in an altered state. The menacing bulk of the islands rose out of the vast expanse of silvery water, towering over them like huge beasts about to pounce. The sky was cobbled with lumpy clouds and night was coming on fast. The lurid stripe of pink on the horizon faded before her eyes.

She was in limbo. Her grim, silent escort was terrifying as the hooded ferryman on the river Styx. Skilled at killing. As if it were something he did on a regular basis. She gulped. It made her throat hurt.

She stared at her toes, so cold they no longer even felt like they were hers, and tried to speak. She couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs to make a sound. Islands flew by, plumes of spray arced behind them. Finally, she made herself heard over the roar of the motor, asking a question she didn’t think he’d answer. “Who are you?”

His gaze didn’t even flick down. “Not now,” he yelled.

Not now? She’d been scared out of her wits, abused, insulted, threatened. “I want some goddamn answers!” she shrieked.

He slowed the boat, killed the motor. They slid forward in the sudden silence on leftover momentum, rocking side to side on the inky black heaves.

“OK, then. Listen hard. Hear anybody coming after us?”

She listened. She heard wind, water, her own chattering teeth.

“No,” she said.

“The correct answer to that question is ‘not yet.’ Followed by, ‘but pretty f*cking soon.’ Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be grateful?” Her voice shook, splintered. “Gee, thanks! I want to know why I was in danger of getting killed in the first place! Who were those psychos? And who the hell are you?”

“Your timing blows. Shut up and—”

“Stop it!” She grabbed his arm. “You’ve been saying that all day! Shut up and do as you’re told, or die! Guess what. I no longer give a shit!”

“Fuck.” He shook her off and she thudded heavily down to the bottom of the boat on her butt. “Do you want us both to drown? Stay still.”

She rose up onto her knees. The boat rocked violently. “What, am I bothering you?” she hissed.