Moving Target (Target #3)(24)

“Which one?” I scan the harbor that’s filled with speedboats, fishing vessels, and yachts.

“That one.” He points to a sliver and black boat shaped like a bullet.

“Looks fast.”

“It is, and it’s armed. If we can get to it, then the odds favor us living another day.”

“Will you always talk like that?”

“Like what?”

“Like a Russian Yoda.”

“You can joke around later.” He grabs my hand. “We’ll have to swim under water.”

“The entire way?” I nearly screech, then start to stammer. “I can hold my breath, but I’m not sure how long and what if we come up for air. They could shoot our head and I really, really like my head. Yours too.”

“I have SCUBA gear but only for one. I’ll share my oxygen with you.”

Take a shuddering breathe, I nod and say, “Let’s go.”

But before we can jump, an explosion rocks the house and sends us flying into the water. It’s not terribly cold when it hits, so I don’t swallow more than half a mouthful before I kick upwards.

Debris rain down on my head as soon as I pop to the surface.

I gasp for air, searching for Dima in the grotto.

Something grabs my ankle and I scream, but then I’m pulled beneath the surface and it’s Dmitry. He holds up the oxygen mouthpiece and I open my mouth, breathing in the air as fast as I can.

He shakes his head, taking it away from me and makes a slow down motion with his hands. Because I want to live, I push down the panic and nerves, and follow his instructions.

Every so often I look back, expecting to see bad guys behind us riding sharks with lasers mounted on their fins. Okay, so I might have watched Austin Powers last night before bed with Dima. He didn’t get half of it and I thought it was hilarious.

Dima passes the mouth piece to me and I suck in air—slowly. He gives me a thumbs up and points at the bottom of a boat.

I want to cry in relief because we’re so close now.

Grabbing my wrist, he pulls me along and I kick my legs to help. Once we’re on the other side of the boat, we surface and I spit the mouth piece out.

Dima kisses me. Hard. “So damn brave.”

“Only because you’re here.”

He shrugs out of his SCUBA gear and I watch as it sinks to the sea floor. “Who knows when I might need it again?” With a wink, he grabs the side of the boat and pulls himself up and over.

I attempt to do the same, but I can’t get all the way up. Just as I’m sliding back down, Dima captures my wrists and pulls me to him. “Sit. I’ll do the rest.”

I plant my tail on the floor, not wanting any part of me exposed to gun fire.

Dima pulls up the anchor and starts up the engine. He swings around, his face growing hard and his eyes flashing with anger.

“Hold on.” He throws the speed boat into light speed and I’m jerked back by the force of it. “Under the seat. Guns. Ammo. Now.”

I can’t move. I’m frozen to the spot as gun shuts ring out, only they sound continuous which means the weapons are bigger and we have nowhere to hide.

“Shit. Chloe… move your ass if you want to live,” he barks.

Digging deep, I force my body to move, to shove up the seat and start hauling out guns and ammo, just like he said.

“Where are the life jackets?” I shout over the roar of wind and engine.

He nods to where I am. “Protection is more important.”

“Seriously?”

He ducks, bullets missing him and digging into the stern. Giving me a pointed look, he grabs a gun and slams a clip inside of it, then stands once more. Like a pirate, he both commands the boat and wields his weapon.

If we weren’t trying to stay alive, I’d be really turned on right now.

“Take the wheel,” he shouts as he steps away.

“Oh shit.” I half crawl, then crouch down and run the small distance to the steering wheel and grab it. “Which way.”

“Northeast. Just follow the compass and keep us heading Northeast unless I say otherwise.”

“As in you need evasive maneuvers?”

“Pretend it’s a starship and go for it.” He grabs another gun and strides to the back of the boat.

“Pretend it’s a starship and go for it. Yeah right.”

“Hard to port,” he shouts.

“What?” I jerk my head around.

“Left turn. Hard.”

I do as he asks. Miraculously, the boat doesn’t tip over, but we’re heading straight for a large rock.

“Dima!”

“Turn the boat, love!”

We miss the rock by inches, but instead of celebrating, I concentrate, ignoring how cold I am, ignoring how my eyes are watering and that we have guys who want to kill us, on our tails.

“Right,” he shouts and I spin the wheel, taking a look behind me. There are two boats after us, each filled with three men. One to drive and two to shoot.

My heart slams against my chest.

Dima hitches a rocket launcher up on his hsoulder. Maybe we’re not so out-armed after all.

He shoots.

The rocket flies.

Seconds later, an explosion sends one the first boat into the air, tail over head. Fire rains down.