by Cara Dee
Gray stood to the side with his arms folded over his chest. “Just putting it out there, you were shot twice a week ago.”
“The first bullet just grazed me,” Darius replied.
Gray rolled his eyes.
After using a torn T-shirt to strap his gun to his bad arm, Darius waded out into the shallow water.
Ryan foolishly chose to attach his gun to his thigh. Good thing the water wasn’t more than ten feet deep in the middle, ’cause he was gonna have to dive for it.
“You ready or what?” Darius called over his shoulder. This was gonna be fun. Not having a life had its silver lining. He worked out quite a bit. “You’re already thinking of an excuse for when you lose, aren’t you?”
“Oh, fuck you.” Ryan scowled and joined him in the water. “But I do wanna point out, I have two boys under one, and one—”
“Who have three parents!” Darius laughed. “And I know for a fact that Angel takes most nights. She and Ma talk, you know.”
Ryan muttered something under his breath, followed by, “Let’s get this over with.”
As if he weren’t the one insisting they’d race in the first place?
Gray and Fil walked out in the water too.
“I’ll count you down,” Fil said excitedly.
“You’re rooting for me, right?” Darius raised a brow at Gray.
He snorted. “If you’re dumb enough to compete with a gunshot wound, I’m rooting for the sharks.”
Darius withheld his grin and shoved him.
“There’re no sharks here,” Ry chuckled.
Gray yelped and flailed as he fell, landing in the water with a loud splash. “Hey! You’re gonna pay for that!”
The boys on the beach laughed, a sound that loosened the vise around Darius’s chest.
They were going home, dammit. God have mercy on the soul who got in Darius’s way.
“Are you guys ready?” Fil got impatient. “I’m gonna count to three.” Game face. Darius and Ryan positioned themselves next to each other and bumped fists. “One. Two. Three!”
They darted off, running at full speed until the water got too deep. Darius dove a beat after Ryan did, both sending a salty spray in their wake.
Taking it easy on his bad arm, Darius put all his strength into every kick. The water felt amazing, the ocean floor was a dancing reflection of sunrays and white sand, and the sun did wonders for his back. Knots and tension evaporated along with the forceful urge to be constantly alert.
It was too soon to relax, he reminded himself.
But he bargained. Ten minutes. Give me ten minutes.
He turned his head every other stroke and sucked in air, and he had to suppress his smugness when he saw Ryan was a solid ten feet behind him.
It wasn’t a long swim. Three hundred feet, at most.
His shoulder took a hit, though. Halfway across the strait, he gnashed his teeth at the throbbing burn. He sure as fuck wouldn’t mention this to Gray. Still, it’d been the best afternoon of the past several months.
A few more strokes… Soon, he’d be able to stand on the bottom. He kicked it up a notch to exhaust himself the last stretch, and then he dove below and used his feet to push himself forward. He jumped and dove, jumped and dove. Panting, he set out to run up to the beach, and he wasn’t gonna take any chances by stopping there. A hand on the tender; who knew how Ryan might cheat otherwise.
He did a quick scan of the beach, making sure it was clear—what the actual fuck!
He stuttered to a stop, only to pick up the pace again. That little shit! Gray had swum across too, and the fucker was fast. He passed Darius with a “Suck it, old-timer” and sped toward the tender.
“Be careful with your fucking leg,” Darius growled, panting.
“Sorry, I don’t speak Hypocrite!” Gray hollered. Two seconds later, he slapped a hand to the boat by the tree line and fist-pumped the air. “Whoop!”
Darius was a few seconds behind, and his hands hit the railing of the boat, where he supported himself to pant and gasp like an eighty-year-old. Well, compared to the knucklehead anyway.
At least Ryan was even worse. Darius took a deep breath, wiped his face, and turned to see how far behind the almighty Marine was. Huh, the beach shouldn’t be empty… His gaze traveled over the water, and then his brows shot up.
Holy shit.
Gray was gonna be right twice in about ten minutes.
“What’s he doing?” Gray came up next to him and cocked his head.
Darius hid his smirk by scrubbing a hand over his mouth and jaw. “He, uh…”
“Oh my God!” Gray had spotted the gray fin circling Ryan. “Oh my fucking God, we gotta save him!”
Darius laughed through his nose, agreeing, but he wasn’t worried. Sure, regular guns sucked underwater, and his nine-millimeter would lose power within a few feet. But press the muzzle against the shark, and he’d kill it.
Ryan didn’t want to do that, though. He was holding up a fist, letting Darius know he had the situation under control.
Darius signaled back, then went to help Gray push the tender into the water. They grunted and heaved heavy breaths, each effort shoving the boat a couple feet forward.
“Can’t believe Ryan and Niko did this uphill,” Gray groaned.
Darius was more bitter about the fact that Ry was gonna have a reasonable excuse as to why he’d lost the race.
When they reached the water, Darius ordered Gray to get in and start the engine. “The key should be in the ignition.”
“What about you?”
Not yet. “Water’s too shallow.” Instead, he kept pushing—and lifting slightly—to ensure the engine didn’t hit the ground. “Slowly, knucklehead.”
“Sorry.” Gray eased up on the gas, and once they were farther out, Darius jumped up and joined him. “You’re probably a better driver. You take over.”
Gray’s self-esteem was a slippery slope and a roller coaster all wrapped up in one. For no reason, Darius smacked a kiss to Gray’s cheek.
“Nah, you got it. I’ll haul my brother outta the water.”
Gray flushed and averted his gaze.
Ryan was near the middle of the strait, keeping calm, head and shoulders above the surface, and, getting closer, Darius saw his gun was aimed at the shark.
Darius leaned over the railing and cupped his hand around his mouth. “Are you making friends, little brother?”
Ry didn’t take his eyes off the fish but had no problem lifting a hand to flip him off.
It looked like a small reef shark, maybe six feet or so in length.
The engine of the boat soon had the shark’s attention, and its circles around Ry got wider. Then the shark descended into the depths but stayed close. Darius peered down as the boat slowed to a stop a few feet from Ryan.
“She’s a curious one,” Ry murmured.
“How the fuck is he smiling?” Gray looked on, bewildered.
Darius smiled too and leaned down to offer Ry a hand. “Now. She’s near the bottom.” They clutched each other’s forearms, and Darius pulled. “You okay?”
Ryan slumped down in the seats in the back and nodded, out of breath. “Aye. She was a beauty, wasn’t she?”
Darius wouldn’t go that far. He was only grateful the shark hadn’t been too big. Or aggressive.
“How did you not unload the whole gun on it?” Gray asked.
Ry let out a breathless laugh and scrubbed at his face. “Trust, it’s the first thought that hits ya.”
“Why is there a second?” Gray pressed.
Darius grinned.
“Never waste a bullet?” Ryan smirked. “Nah, but…” He lifted a shoulder. “It was unnecessary. She was nosy on her own turf.”
Gray huffed and returned to the front. “Told you there were sharks.”
“No, just put it all in here.” Darius handed over the two plastic bags to Charlie and Oscar. “We’ll get rid of it on the way.”
“Even the last of the food?” Owen as
ked worriedly.
Darius inclined his head and looked around the campsite in the jungle that never actually became a campsite. “We might have to leave in a hurry. We can’t have anything left then.” Worst-case scenario, if rescue was late or didn’t arrive for another reason, food was never that far away. Fruit was plentiful, and the ocean was full of fish. “That shirt over there.” He pointed at a fern where a shirt had been hung to dry. “Throw it in a bag.”
The sun was getting low, and everyone was antsy. More so now that Darius and Ryan had told them not to leave the camp. No one was allowed on the beach; no one was allowed to get water. If someone had to take a leak, go behind a tree.
The fire pit had been covered. Some garbage had been buried.
“What about this?” Fil held up a tin can they’d used as a pot.
“Bring it.” Darius nodded at the bag. “Think of it this way: if it’s perishable, bury it. Nature is a compost. If it’s something we brought from the yacht that you wouldn’t normally grab in a hurry, bring it. That means cans, blankets, those two cushions over there, and anything plastic. If you’re running for your life, you’re not bringing silverware.” He pointed down to the ground where their one fork had been dropped. “When we leave this island, only we will know we’ve ever been here.”
To the police, they’d say they had stayed on the big island, and they would be vague about the exact location.
“Darius,” Ryan called, nodding toward the beach. He and Gray were on guard duty, both standing right on the edge of the jungle.
Darius walked over to him and accepted the carbine, which Ry had used to see farther. Darius looked through the scope and scanned the horizon.
“Anything?” Gray asked quietly.
Yeah. Looked like a fishing boat. Not the first they’d seen; however, it was the first that seemed to be heading straight this way. Approximately half a klick out, the water more turquoise than blue, and the others had stayed out there where fishing was better.
“Maybe,” he settled for murmuring. “We’ll know soon—hold on.” He adjusted the scope as he caught something. Goddammit, the boat was too far away. No, there it was again. Someone out on deck.
Another minute or two later, things got clearer. Not only did he recognize the man onboard, he could see him preparing Willow’s drone.
Jesus Christ, they were going home.
“It’s Ramirez.” Darius handed over the carbine again and turned to face the boys. “Everyone, listen up. I don’t wanna be a buzzkill, but we’re gonna have to celebrate later. We don’t know the activity in these waters today. What we do know is there’s been hostility before. So, a buddy of ours is here to pick us up, and—oi.” He felt like a dick for stifling the shouts of triumph and the rush of relief. “I’m serious. We’ll be losing daylight fast. Once we have our instructions, we follow them to the fucking letter. Understood?”
They nodded and started whispering excitedly among themselves, a couple of them trying and failing to hold back tears.
Darius couldn’t blame them. Turning around once more, he clapped Ry on his back. “I’ll go out.”
He stepped out of the jungle, focused and determined. They were so fucking close now, and nothing was allowed to go wrong. The man who’d stripped down and raced across the strait was gone again, replaced by a man wearing jeans so he could tuck his gun, a composed expression, and his old beater. It had some faded bloodstains on it, but it was better than poisonous fruit.
He played absently with the strip of fabric he’d used to strap his knife around his thigh.
The drone flew closer and descended slowly.
Anticipation and urgency threatened to take control.
He was gonna bring Gray home, he was gonna bring Gray home.
Shit.
He dragged a hand through his hair and blew out a breath.
With the drone within reach, Darius checked for a message and found one attached to the underside like he had last time. No Braille here; instead, he recognized Ramirez’s familiar handwriting. He wrote neatly and straight, small letters but in all caps.
The note said he’d stop about two hundred feet away. Darius assumed it’d be too shallow for his vessel after that. There was room for eight people below deck; the rest would have to share a seating area in the back. There were rations of water and food, as well as clean clothes on board.
Darius nodded and glanced at the camera. “Willow?”
She “nodded.”
He switched to sign language, not wanting any misunderstandings with lipreading. It was hardly anything she’d had to learn. “We will arrive in two groups.” He pointed to the tender farther up the beach. “Can we start right away?”
Another affirmative.
Ryan headed out with the first group of kids. Nikolaj, Oscar, Lee, and Charlie, with Niko returning alone. This way, one group always had Ry or Darius there.
Darius glanced over at Gray more often than he cared to admit, waiting for a reaction. Just about anything would do at this point. The kid was tense and holding back. He fidgeted as they waited for Niko. Chewing the inside of his cheek, picking at his cuticles, pacing, seemingly taking on every demon trapped inside his head.
After doing a final sweep of the camp, Darius pushed the jungle out of his mind. It no longer existed. Same with every inch of beach he left behind.
The only thing that could clear Gray’s head was helping others. When the tender reached the beach, he and Niko assisted the remaining boys into the water. Owen was falling apart, scared shitless something was gonna fail, so Gray comforted him.
Darius handed over the final bag of shit they’d have to get rid of elsewhere, then boarded last. The inflatable lifeboat they’d cut into pieces took up most of the floor space.
“We ready?” Even Niko was nervous. A rare sight, something peeking through his armor. “It’s a three-hour journey to a place called South Andros.”
“Copy that. You sit down and relax, kid.” Darius clapped his shoulder and took over the wheel. He peered over the edge as he backed out, keeping an eye on the ocean floor. It’d be fucking typical if they lost the engine or something now. They were already cutting it close with gas.
As they reached deeper waters, Darius pushed the throttle to maximum speed, wanting to get a sense of the force. Salt water sprayed them, and waves made it a bumpier ride.
It was a short trip. Soon, Darius docked along the aft of the fishing boat, and he exchanged a smirk and a two-finger wave with Ramirez.
“We gotta stop meeting this way, buddy,” Ramirez said. Three scars along his cheek stretched with his wide smile, flashing a set of white teeth. He still hadn’t fixed that one in the corner, though. It’d chipped in Venezuela several years ago.
“I think it’s romantic,” Darius replied, accepting a rope to secure the tender. “It’s our thing.”
Ramirez let out a booming laugh.
Owen, Rob, and Tai were the first to get helped on board the fishing boat. Ramirez shook their hands and told them encouraging words about food, that they were free, and that they’d be able to call their families as soon as they got to South Andros.
Niko was next, hauling himself up without assistance.
“Ready?” Darius gave Gray’s neck a gentle squeeze.
He exhaled shakily and nodded. Then he looked over his shoulder, toward the island. “Yeah.” He climbed up on the boat on his own, too, and accepted a bottle of water from Ryan as he appeared from below deck.
Lastly, Ramirez and Ryan took turns taking the stuff Darius handed over. The lifeboat, some junk, and a bag.
“Watch out for the sharks,” Ryan said with a wry grin.
Darius chuckled and pulled his beater over his head. He handed over his gun too, then tied the knife tighter around his leg. “All right, see you soon.”
“Be careful. It’s almost dark.” Gray stood to the side, looking anxious. “If something happens, I’ll hurt you.”
“Nothing’s gonna happen.” Okay, he wa
s getting cocky. He didn’t have to tempt fate. Or flip it off.
Ramirez took the ropes again.
Darius twisted the key in the ignition and eased away from the boat. The center console gave a warning that the tank was almost empty—not the first one they’d received. But he pushed forward, hoping for the best. Setting the course straight for the big island, he switched on the autopilot and went full throttle. The warning flashed again.
“Oh, for fuck’s sake.” He’d done what he could. Hopefully, the tender would reach land.
Before he could get too close to the shore, he summoned all his strength, ran for the cushion-less sofa in the back, jumped onto it, and dove into the water. Motherfucking… He hadn’t been prepared for the temperature drop. The shallow water between the islands was a hell of a lot more comfortable. Jesus Christ. His stomach flipped, and then he came up for air and began swimming back to the fishing boat.
No run-ins with a shark this time, thankfully. Maybe it only liked Ryan.
The currents were strong out here, and the short distance was enough to exhaust him.
As soon as he grabbed on to the rope ladder that Ramirez had lowered for him, he hauled in some much-needed air and planted his forehead against the boat.
“Looks like you did it, Quinn,” Ramirez said.
Glancing up, Darius saw his friend was looking through a pair of binoculars.
“Boat’s on the beach.”
Good. One less thing to worry about.
By the time Darius’s feet hit the deck, there was only a strip of orange and red resting along the horizon where the sun had set.
Now that he could take the time to relax a bit, he took in the surroundings of the boat and immediately felt comfortable. It reminded him of the boats in the marina back home. Well-used rustic wooden vessels. The floorboards were smooth and contained heat from the sun, the white paint along the sides was peeling in places, and the two small, L-shaped sofas along the aft whispered of tourists chartering the boat to go fishing. The navy cushions looked new, as did the side table with built-in cupholders.