Tattoo

by Cambria Hebert

  “How am I supposed to fish?” she complained.

  “I’ll help you.” Before she could protest any more, I lifted her into the boat and waited for her to take a seat.

  “Don’t you want help pushing it out into the water?”

  I held up my arm, flexing my bicep. It was big and manly. “You see these guns? I don’t need help.”

  “Bossy and full of yourself,” she muttered.

  A few moments later, we were floating in the gentle waves of the lake. I began to row us out farther into the water, where we could find a really good spot to fish.

  “This looks like a good place,” she said a little bit later, gazing out across the water to the other side where there was nothing but trees growing close together.

  I stuck the oar I was holding straight down into the water, giving the spot a depth test.

  “What are you doing?” she asked.

  “There are some shallow spots in this lake that are only three feet deep.” The oar hit the bottom of the lake floor as if to prove my point. “Let’s go out a little farther away from this spot for better fishing.”

  “It’s really pretty here,” she said, once again staring out over the expansive view. “We used to come here when I was a little girl. My mom would bring a picnic.”

  “I used to come out here too. My grandfather always brought me and my brother to fish.”

  Off behind us, the lake stretched until there was nothing but a line of trees, almost creating a border around the water. To the right, there was a single-lane paved road that wound around the side. It was the same road we traveled down to get to the boat rental place.

  For those that didn’t want to fish from a boat, there was a fishing pier and platform that we could see perfectly from out here in the water.

  “There aren’t many people here today,” she said, following my stare toward the pier.

  “It’s a workday and its afternoon. Most of the serious fisherman would come early in the morning.” The only people on the pier were a man and young boy who were casting out a fishing line with a brightly colored bobber attached to the line.

  When we drove in, we saw several groups of people in the picnic areas and there was also some sailboats and kayaks in the distance.

  “So you work at the bank?” I asked as I baited our two fishing lines with hot dog pieces.

  She nodded, pushing the loose strands of hair away from her face. “Yes, my father wants me to someday take over.”

  “But you don’t want to?”

  “Actually, I do,” she said, taking the pole I offered. I watched as she deftly pressed the button on the reel and successfully cast out the line

  “Nice,” I told her, admiring her sure movements.

  She gave me a grin before continuing to answer my question. “I actually have a degree in accounting. I’ve always liked math. Numbers make sense to me.”

  “Then what were you doing at the teller counter?”

  “My father thinks a successful CEO of any corporation—including his bank—knows all aspects of the business. So after I graduated college, I came to work at the bank, and I have been spending time in each position, learning the inner workings of the entire business.”

  As much as I hated to admit it, I admired her father. Yes, he was powerful and successful, but it was because he worked for it, and he was making sure she did as well.

  “Can I ask you something?” she asked.

  “Anything.”

  “What’s it like being an undercover cop?”

  “Sometimes it’s confusing,” I admitted, the confession ripping out of me from deep inside.

  “Confusing how?”

  “Sometimes I forget what side I’m on.”

  She jumped in her seat, leaping back a little and giving a small squeal. For a second, I thought I made a mistake, being so nakedly honest. I probably scared her; she probably thought she was sitting here with a bad guy masquerading as a good one.

  Maybe she was.

  “I got a bite!” she exclaimed, tugging back on the rod and turning excited eyes on me. She tugged the rod again and lost her balance, slipping backward over the little seat she was perched upon. I surged forward, rocking the boat to steady her.

  “I think you might need some help.” I said into her ear. “Might be tough to reel in a fish with only one hand.”

  Taylor leaned back into me, her back completely melding into my chest as I took the rod out of her hand. She seemed content to allow me to do all the work, pulling in the fish while she sat in the circle of my body.

  I began turning the little handle, slowly towing in the fish. “The key to not losing the fish is to go nice and slow,” I murmured right against her ear.

  A little shiver jerked her body and I smiled, liking the effect I had on her.

  I adjusted my hands so that my hold on the rod was a little tighter – really I just wanted to hold her closer. “You have to let the water caress the fish as you reel it in, so that when it comes up out of the water its relaxed.”

  “Mmm-Hmm,” she replied.

  The fish was almost out of the water when I stopped turning and dipped down to press my lips against her cheek. Damn, she smelled so good.

  On the end of the line the fish started to struggle so I pulled away from her and brought him up.

  She shrieked when it appeared from the water, dripping and flopping around. “It’s a big one!”

  “Yep, it’s a beauty.”

  I brought it over the side of the boat as it continued to flop around.

  “It’s pretty,” she said, admiring her catch.

  She made no move at all to leave my arms. In fact, she stayed leaning against me, resting her head against my chest. The fish flopped again and smacked into her ankle. She shrieked and pulled her leg away, shrinking against me.

  “Are you telling me you’re afraid to touch it?”

  “It’s slimy!”

  Unbelievable. There was that girly side coming out again. “I take it you aren’t going to be the one to throw it back?”

  “I’ll leave that honor to you.”

  I scooped up the fish, gently pulled the hook out of its lip, and then dropped it over the side of the boat and back into the water.

  “A girl who likes to fish but refuses to actually touch one,” I muttered.

  She giggled and watched the fish jump back into the water. I didn’t bother re-baiting her hook. I liked sharing better. So I handed her my rod, which was lying abandoned off to the side. “Here, hold this,” I said as I made myself more comfortable, spreading my thighs out behind her so she could settle more firmly against me.

  After I took the rod back, I was contemplating recasting it when two black SUVs came around the curve in the road, following alongside the lakeshore. It wasn’t anything unusual, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up anyway.

  I stared at the vehicles, unable to see behind the windshield because of the glare on the glass from the sun. My body stiffened as a feeling of foreboding came over me.

  “Brody?” Taylor asked, sensing the change in my demeanor.

  I sat the fishing rod down inside the boat as the SUVs swerved to the side of the road and stopped at the bank, directly across from where the boat floated.

  “Get down, Taylor,” I ordered, my voice urgent and low.

  “Wh-what?” she said, her head swinging around to look at the men who were getting out of the cars.

  One of them raised a pistol and pointed it right at me.

  I surged to my feet, pushing her down into the bottom of the boat, and stood over her, turning toward the men.

  “Brody,” she called, and I hated the fear in her voice.

  “Don’t get up,” I said and reached behind me into the waistband of my jeans for the .45 caliber I was carrying.

  But their guns were already out.

  “Fucking pig!” one of them yelled, and bullets started flying.

  The first couple shots slammed into the water, makin
g innocent splashing sounds, and then the third and fourth bullet hit the side of the boat. One of them plowed straight through the side, and water started seeping into the bottom of the vessel.

  Taylor screamed.

  Goddamn, we were sitting ducks out here in the center of the water with no protection at all.

  I fired back and the men dove behind the SUVs, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think those couple bullets would chase them away. Even as I thought it, one of the guys, wearing baggy jeans and a baseball hat pulled low, rose up from behind the hood to take aim at me once more.

  I squeezed off a shot. My aim was true and the windshield he was standing by shattered instantly. He yelled a few curses and dove back down, taking cover from the raining glass.

  I was a good shot, but there were three of them and only one of me. And they had cover, where I did not.

  I didn’t have any choice. It was a bullet or the water.

  Just as the guys took aim again, I knocked the boat over, pitching us into the dark, cool lake.

  16

  Taylor

  The water wasn’t necessarily freezing cold, but it was a shock against my sun-heated skin. Everything happened so fast I barely had time to register what was going on, and then the all-too-familiar sounds of gunshots radiated through the air and literally paralyzed my limbs with fear.

  Before I could do little more than scream, the boat was rocking violently and then Brody was flinging himself over me and launching into the water. But he didn’t leave me alone. He turned the boat as he went so I was dumped right into the current.

  The force of the movement pushed my body beneath the surface even as my arms and legs struggled to swim. I only had use of one arm because the life jacket and sling pinned the other one to my side.

  My clothes were saturated instantly, the cool water soaking into my entire body. I blinked my eyes, too shocked to close them, and all I could see was the color brown. Dark, dirty water claimed me, and I blinked, trying to see anything else.

  Panic seized my chest, robbing it of breath and creating this panicked explosive feeling in my lungs. Before I could start to worry I would drown, the lifejacket Brody insisted I wear did its job and pulled my body to the surface.

  I gasped when my head cleared the water and used my only available arm to tread water. “Brody!” I screamed, blinking the water out of my eyes and searching for him.

  More bullets rained through the air and cut through the water like a hot knife through butter. I shrieked and looked at the three men on shore who were firing at us openly, not even trying to hide the fact they were trying to commit murder.

  I looked around, frantic for help. The man and young boy up on the pier were watching the unfolding scene. “Call 9-1-1!” I screamed as loud as I could.

  Another bullet hit the water right beside me, and I dove away.

  But I didn’t go under. The jacket kept me afloat, and for once I wished it didn’t work so well. I made a better target when those people with the guns could see me.

  Something clamped around my ankle and I screamed, jerking away, trying to swim frantically and failing miserably. One-armed swimming was not something I excelled at.

  Whatever was down there refused to let go, and then I was forced roughly beneath the surface. The life jacket fought against the weight, trying to tug me back up, but it was no use. Whatever had a hold of me was no match for the flotation device.

  I felt my bandaged arm rub against the inside of the jacket and I winced because it hurt.

  I was pulled farther down, my arm waving back and forth as I fought. Whatever it was towed me forward and then let go. I surfaced once more with a deep gasp; my lungs were burning from lack of oxygen.

  I blinked the water out of my eyes and tried to locate the shooters, but all I saw was darkness.

  I spun around, trying to figure out what was going on and where the sun went when an arm wrapped around my waist and another head broke the surface.

  “Easy,” Brody said, his voice a mere whisper.

  I sobbed his name, not because I was scared, but because I was so relieved to see him. I flung my arm around his neck and latched onto him, like a sock with a bad case of static cling.

  His arm closed around me and we both slid under the water just a little more from lack of paddling. “Tread the water,” he said, releasing me. “We need to stay under the boat. It’s the only protection we have.”

  Of course! I should have realized. Brody grabbed me from beneath the water and towed me under the capsized boat. It shielded us from criminal eyes and held a small pocket of air to allow us to breathe.

  “Are you shot?” Brody asked, his voice hushed and insistent.

  “No. Are you?”

  “No.”

  “What’s happening?” I asked. “Who are those guys?”

  “Snake’s been a busy guy,” Brody murmured, lifting his gun out of the water and shaking it, trying to drain out all the moisture. “Seems he’s ratted my identity out to everyone in the organization.”

  “You mean those are gang members who know you’re a cop and want to kill you for it?”

  “Did you hear them call me a pig?” Brody asked, trying to tread water and keep the gun from getting any wetter.

  “It all happened so fast,” I said, pushing heavy, wet strands of hair out of my face.

  “Try to keep that arm still, okay?”

  I nodded.

  Another bullet hit the water and I could hear the guys talking amongst themselves on shore.

  “Will they go away?” I whispered.

  Even with the lack of light, I could see Brody grimace. “Remember that shallow area we passed on the way out here?” he asked, choosing not to answer my question.

  “Yes.”

  “We’re going to swim in that direction so it gives us some footing. We’re going to tire out quickly if we have to keep treading.”

  “Okay.”

  “Stay with me, stay under this boat, and don’t make any sudden movements or loud noises. We want it to look like the boat could just be drifting.”

  “Won’t they know when we don’t surface that we’re under here?” I worried.

  “Maybe,” he allowed. “But if they can’t see us, it will be harder to shoot us.”

  Another bullet struck the side of the boat, knocking a small, round hole in the wood. I jumped back, bumping into the very end.

  Brody swore. “This wouldn’t be happening right now if they’d managed to haul in Snake.”

  I bit my lower lip as cold seeped into my skin and the water made my clothes feel heavy. One of the flats I was wearing had already fallen off and was carried off by the current.

  It was a shame. I really liked these shoes.

  The bullet wound in my arm ached, and I worried about the stitches and bandages. I wasn’t supposed to get that area of my arm wet. It was supposed to remain covered and dry for several more days.

  “Come here,” he said, reaching for me, towing me closer and anchoring me at his side. I couldn’t help but notice the way he placed himself in front of me so he was stationed between my body and the side the men were shooting from.

  We began moving together, slowly making our way toward where I hoped was a shallow area. My arm was burning and trembling slightly from the work of propelling my body through the water. Suddenly, I was extremely grateful that Brody strapped this life jacket on me, because without it, I would really be struggling.

  I could hear his labored breathing in the tiny enclosed space. The air around our heads actually was uncomfortably warm, while the rest of me shivered with cold. I squinted through the darkness to make out his concentrated features as he pushed through the water, holding his gun above the surface, swimming and trying to tow the boat along as well.

  I wished my arm wasn’t rendered useless in this stupid sling. I tried to tug it free, figuring I would rather tear the stitches than drown, but the added confinement of the jacket made the task almost impossible.

&n
bsp; More gunfire erupted and I heard the men at the bank watching for us, waiting for us to surface. They were debating on whether or not one of use was hit or if perhaps both of us drowned.

  I can’t say that listening to people plot my death was something I ever wanted to experience again.

  “They’re dead,” one of the guys said. “Let’s get the hell out of here.”

  “I’m not leaving ‘til I know for sure. Snake wants confirmation.”

  “Fucking Snake,” Brody spat. “I’m going to bring that asshole in myself.”

  I started to speak, but the words died in my throat because I needed the air to breathe. I felt like we’d been swimming for hours. Yeah, in reality it was only minutes, but my arm burned and begged for a break.

  I kicked my legs a little harder to give my arm a rest, trying to push away the panic that was building inside me from being beneath this boat. It was beginning to feel entirely too claustrophobic.

  I kicked out again and my toe hit something solid. I made a sound and yanked my foot away, my big toe throbbing like it had been stubbed.

  “We found it,” Brody said from right beside me. “Put your feet down to stand but don’t stand up all the way.”

  I breathed a sigh of relief and stood in a crouch, my arm practically collapsing at my side. Brody turned to me. “Stay under here. If something happens to me, stay under this boat and wait for help.”

  Ice formed in my belly. He made it sound like he was leaving. “What are you doing?”

  “I’m going to the surface and I’m going to shoot me some motherfuckers.”

  Oh my. His language was very bad. But damned if it didn’t turn me on. Now is not the time to be turned on, I told myself. Brody started to move away, and I grabbed him.

  “Wait! Stay here.”

  “I’m not staying here, Tay. I’m not the kind of guy who sits and waits. I’m the kind of guy who fights back.”

  “But you could get hurt.” I felt a lump of grief rise up in my throat, making it hard to breathe and swallow.

  “I’m not going to get hurt.” He pressed a quick kiss to my lips and pulled away, causing water to lap against my chest.