Into the Fury (BOSS, Inc. #1)(98)

The jet boat roared to life. Ethan shoved the accelerator forward and the boat jumped out of its berth as if it had been caged too long. The Scarab could really haul ass.

By the time the big SUV pulled up and men began pouring out, taking up firing positions along the dock, the boat was way out in the lake, out of range.

Ethan kept the Scarab headed north. There was a roadhouse on the water a few miles away, where he and Dirk always stopped for a beer after a day of fishing. There was a dock there where he could tie up. Mulkey’s Tavern was a locals’ joint, hidden away in a cove, not easy to spot; it was a long way around to get there by car.

Tucker Mulkey, the owner, was a Vietnam vet, a tough old bastard, and a friend. Ethan could count on Tuck to keep Val safe while he went back to help Dirk and Pete.

Mulkey’s drew near, an old wooden building up on the bank, picnic tables outside and a view of the lake from inside the rustic interior. With the weather so chilly and wet, no one was sitting outside.

Ethan pulled up at the dock, took the pistol Val still clutched in her hand, and stuffed it back into his waistband behind his back. “We need to hurry.” With his hand at her waist, both of them started jogging along the walkway.

Ethan prayed Dirk had gotten out safely. Prayed the cops and the EMTs were there by now, taking care of Pete, prayed he had gotten medical attention in time. Whatever had happened, he had to go back and find out.

He clenched his jaw as he hurried toward the roadhouse, hoping like hell Mulkey was there, as he usually was.

The best sight he could have seen was Luke striding toward them down the hill.





Standing on the shore at the end of the dock, Val trembled in the misty cold, her arms wrapped around her.

“How’d you know where to find us?” Ethan asked his brother.

“I was in the office when Val called Sadie, said you were taking fire. I knew you’d bail. I figured you’d wind up here. I thought you might have bogies on your tail.”

Ethan’s gaze swung to Val.

“After I called nine-one-one, I phoned Sadie. She always seems to get things done.”

His mouth edged up; then he thought of Dirk and Pete and his mood darkened. “I’ve got to get back. Dirk’s still there and Pete’s been shot. You stay with Val.”

She looked up to see an older, silver-haired man striding purposefully down the hill, a big black pistol holstered at his waist.

“Tuck’s going to look after Val,” Luke said. “We need to get back there before it’s too late.”

Ethan looked torn. Val knew he trusted his brother, but if Luke wasn’t there and the shooters came after her—

“You have to go,” she said. “Dirk and Pete need your help. I’ll be okay with your friend.”

Ethan’s jaw tightened, but he nodded. “Tuck knows what he’s doing. Not much chance they’ll find this place, but if they do, he can protect you till we get back.”

Ethan’s disposable started ringing. He dragged it out of his pocket and pressed it against his ear, listened, and started nodding. Val couldn’t miss the relief that swept over his face.

“We’re at Mulkey’s,” he said. “We’ll wait for you here.” He ended the call and turned toward them. “Dirk’s out safe. Pete’s on the way to the hospital. Took a bullet to the shoulder. Hit his head when he went down. He’s probably got a concussion. He’ll have to have surgery, but they think he’s going to be okay.”

Relief hit her hard and her knees went weak. She started shaking, felt Ethan’s arm go around her waist.

“Let’s get her inside,” he said. Removing the tactical vest she still wore, he guided her up the hill.

Luke strode along beside them. He was wearing camo pants, heavy leather boots, and a long-sleeved, olive-drab T-shirt. A band of bullets draped across his chest, a holster rode at his waist, and there was a knife strapped to his thigh. His hair was wet, making it look darker, though the rain had lessened to a drizzle. Luke’s jaw was set, his features iron hard.

There was nothing of the handsome, casually friendly man she had met at Ethan’s office. This man was hard through and through, a battle-trained soldier.

Val thought of the men who had attacked them at the house, remembered her insane ride behind Ethan down the hill, remembered pulling the pistol, how it had felt in her hand. She thought of Bobby Rodriguez, could almost hear the gunshots that had killed him, feel his blood sliding hotly through her hands. Her stomach rolled. For a moment, she thought she would be sick.

“You okay?” Ethan asked.

She swallowed the bile rising in her throat. She remembered something else, something important, or at least thought she did. “I just . . . I need a minute.”

Ethan didn’t hesitate, just swept her up in his arms and carried her inside the tavern. By the time he set her down at a corner table, she was feeling a little steadier.

“I’ll get her a glass of water,” Tucker Mulkey said.

“Yeah, and a brandy,” Ethan added.

“You got it.”

“And bring us a couple of beers,” Luke said as he sat down at the battered wooden table across from them. The place was old, with a long wooden bar, exposed rafters overhead. All kinds of posters covered the ceiling, beer ads, pinup girls, photos of guys kneeling next to their hunting trophies. Mounted deer heads hung on the walls.