Chapter 30
CHAPTER
THIRTY
JUNE
I sputter, saltwater stinging my eyes, lungs burning from the effort of hauling ass across the water to Pierce’s boat. Water puddles around me on the white fiberglass deck and I stay low, out of the Betty’s line of sight. Checking the radio first, I pull the walkie set off the carrier.
The wire’s completely cut. Son of a gun . Not that the Coast Guard could make it out to the middle of the gulf fast enough. At this rate, I doubt even Dean’s Ken Dolls will make it in time.
Across the water, the Betty’s engines rev.
A bullet pings off the side of the rental boat, and my mouth drops in disbelief. He’s shooting at me? A DEA officer, who accused Dean of working for the smugglers?
Uh, what the fuck?
My mind clips along, sorting and filing information.
Dean’s discharge from the Marines is due to some impropriety with a woman. Not good. Dean was scary with that knife on the boat. Which, if I’m honest, wasn’t completely uncalled for, understandable even, given that Pierce has to be working for the Russians.
Why else would that smarmy jerk be shooting at me?
Which brings me to the biggest problem: Pierce is working for the Russians.
My fingers work on automatic, finding the key fob and turning the boat on.
Pierce is working for the Russians.
He has Dean.
Charlie, too, from the sound of it.
Plus, that absolute turd of a human is shooting at me. At me! A professor at an esteemed university, the woman who found the legendary Santu Espiritu . It’s unconscionable.
Absolutely ungentlemanly behavior. The man is a criminal.
It will not do, and it will not stand.
Quite frankly, I’m sick of men acting like I don’t know what I’m doing.
Anger rises in me. Conviction matching it.
A seed of a plan forms in my head.
I’m going to rescue Dean. And Charlie. Pierce will never see it coming. Because he can’t see past his own dick.
Frowning, I chew my lip. No, that isn’t right. He’s definitely overcompensating; he probably can’t even see his own dick.
I might be in shock again.
Funny how that keeps happening.
Another bullet pings, slicing into the padded captain’s chair, and I stamp my foot, glaring across to the Betty . Shoving the engines into the water as I drop into a squat, bracing myself against the steering column.
I turn the idea around in my head. It’s risky, for sure.
Perhaps not the most brilliant thing I’ve ever conceived of, but desperate times call for desperate measures. Ugh. I must be stressed if I’m thinking in clichés.
“Hey, dick for brains!” I scream. “If you want to kill me, you’ll have to catch me first. And since I’ve had the drugs the whole time, you might want to rethink that plan, or you’ll never find them.”
I gun the boat, my heart in my throat. This entire, incredibly stupid plan hinges on Pierce taking the bait—and thus being stupider than my stupid plan.
Flawless.
“June, shut up .” Dean looks livid, his hands behind his back, zip-tied to the railing. Pierce raises the gun, bringing it down onto the back of Dean’s head. His eyes close and I half-scream, half-yelp.
Oh no, he did not just pistol whip my man.
Pierce slowly turns towards me, and even from here, the malice sparking in his eyes makes my blood run cold.
No, not cold. It’s definitely hot. Boiling, even.
I’m fucking furious.
But I know the Betty . The bilge pump is taking on water, water that, if it isn’t expelled, will be a problem.
Fortunately for me, that’s exactly what I need: a complete catastrophe.
Eyeing the control panel, I memorize the layout. These rental boats are a dime a dozen on the coast. How many times did I listen to my dad detail what they kept on board, how out-of-towners were better off with him than on some of these by themselves? How the wake they created when they didn’t know better was dangerous as all hell?
Ha!
Still. It’ll take all my skill to keep this big lug of a boat steady and create the wake I need without swamping myself.
I crank the wheel one hundred eighty degrees, turning it back towards the Betty , hot on my tail. The rental changes directions so quickly it catches the other boat in a massive wake, sending it skidding over the wave, smashing into the water on the other side. I look over my shoulder. A green gush of water shoots over the bow, sending a wave of water back over it.
I pass the side of the boat, flattening out against the floor. No bullets fly.
“Ah, rang your bell a little, did I?” A high-pitched laugh startles me, and I look around for a second before realizing it came out of my mouth. Panic? I ran straight past it into sheer mania.
Love this journey for me!
Popping up for a moment, I glance over my shoulder. My heart nearly stops when I catch sight of Dean hanging limp against the railing.
“Fuck,” I mutter.
I’m a good swimmer, a great swimmer even, but I need Dean conscious if I’m going to get Charlie out, too. Leaving either of them isn’t an option. Not going to happen.
Pulse skyrocketing, I glance at my watch out of habit, only to realize it must’ve died at some point. At least it won’t tell me to breathe or some bullshit.
Pierce yells something incoherent, and I chance a second look back.
His face is red with rage, apoplectic. A silvery gun flashes, and I flatten again. A bullet going wide, lodging into the door of the rental.
I pick up more speed, then cut back across, sending the Betty flying over the wake again. This time I don’t slow down, immediately circling back behind the other boat, and Pierce takes the bait.
Stupid, stupid Pierce.
Thank you for your service, asshole.
The Betty splashes down hard, a third massive wave hitting it. The water’s ridiculously choppy now, the two cruisers skidding across and into the waves. I shiver, goosebumps pebbling over my arms despite the sun.
This could still end really badly.
I can’t think about that possibility.
The Betty is moving slower now, and my stomach sinks. This might get us all killed. Sunk in the same spot as the Santu Espiritu did, all those years ago.
I smile grimly.
It’s too late now.
The Betty won’t make it much longer. It’s do or die. Literally.
I push the handle forward, picking up speed for one last chaotic circle. The Betty slices over my wake, the waves even bigger now.
“There’s fucking water in the boat.” Pierce’s rage sounds over the motors, crystal clear.
“Get up, Dean, get up,” I urge.
I look back, and hair lashes across my face, stinging my eyes.
Shock wrenches me at the sight.
Charlie.
She’s on the deck, her blonde hair streaked with red, her hands cuffed. Pierce holds a gun to her head. Dean is still, a trickle of crimson falling across his shoulder.
I chose wrong and I’m going to get us killed.
“Fuck.” The word comes out with delicious force.
The time for professionalism is over.
“I’ll shoot her if you don’t stop. I’ll shoot both of them. I don’t give a fuck. Tell me where the drugs are now,” Pierce screams. Charlie fidgets beside him.
I nod slowly, gauging the level of water in the back of the boat. It comes up to Dean’s ankles.
There isn’t a lot of time.
I kill the motors, the wake still rocking the boats unsteadily, and I grip the captain’s chair with all my strength to keep from falling over. A wave sloshes into the boat, coating my feet.
“Okay,” I cry out, loud enough to be heard over the water. I hold my hands up in surrender. “I’ll tell you. Just put the gun down and I’ll tell you what you want to know.”
Another wave from the wake smashes into the Betty . Water streams over the sides, and finally Dean moves. Hope bubbles inside me as I keep my eyes on Pierce.
“The drugs are in my office. At the university.” I grasp around for straws, raising my chin, trying to figure out where the hell I would have hidden god only knows how many drugs in my tiny office.
The entire idea is absurd.
“There’s a drink machine outside my office. It hasn’t worked in years. Everything’s inside the vending machine.”
“You’re lying.” Pierce shakes the gun, water licking around his shins.
“No.” Yes. Yep.
Pierce kicks at the water, sending spray up onto Dean. His fingers twitch behind him. “What the fuck is wrong with your?—"
Charlie explodes into action, driving her forehead straight into Pierce’s face. He staggers back, blood leaking from his nose, and my jaw drops. Without missing a beat, Charlie sweeps his legs from under him and he splashes into the water, the gun floating back towards the engines.
“You fucking bi?—”
“Shut up.” Charlie kicks him in the ribs. Water splashing, soaking her shorts. Twice. Three times.
Pierce coughs once, then goes quiet.
Well. He can follow orders.
“Charlie? Are you okay?” I shade my eyes with my hand, in total disbelief.
Charlie kicked his ass. Pierce’s chest and legs, technically, but maybe she did get an ass kick in there.
“We’re sinking, I have a concussion and I’m handcuffed. And our old friend Marine One over here looks worse.” Charlie wades over to where the gun floats, aiming it at Pierce, who sits up, looking, if at all possible, even angrier.
“You wouldn’t know what to do with that gun if it told you,” he says, a snide look on his face. It’s slightly ruined by the blood running down his cheek.
I tilt my head, twisting my lips to the side.
“From what I can see, she looks pretty competent,” I yell at him.
Which is… odd. All of this is odd.
Pierce kicks out a leg, and Charlie fires the gun. Blood blossoms across the surface of the water, coiling crimson against brackish green.
“I warned you,” Charlie tells him with a sweet smile.
“You shot me.” He sounds shocked.
“You’ll live, you asshole. Tell me where the keys to the cuffs are, or I’ll shoot you again.”
“Fuck you.”
“Fine, the hard way, then.” A second shot rings out, more blood clouding the water. Pierce screams, Charlie smiles, and my mouth hangs open as I watch.
“You’re crazy. You’re all crazy,” Pierce whines.
Dean stirs again, coming to. Finally. Finally.
“Keys?”
Pierce’s groan is loud enough to be audible over the still-running motor of the Betty .
I inhale sharply as Charlie digs a finger into the gunshot wound on his shoulder. “Oh, they’re not there, are they?”
“Pocket. Back pocket.”
Charlie pushes him to an upright position, causing another groan of pain, and my stomach flips.
“June. June.” Dean’s voice is raspy, slurred. Shit. He sounds awful. I drink him in, the stubble that now borders on a full-grown beard. He’s so damn handsome, it makes my heart hurt. God, I hope he’s okay. He has to be. “Why is your boat sinking? Why is Charlie holding a gun on me?”
I flip my attention back to my friend. Charlie’s eyes are flat. Guarded. Her easy-going smile nowhere to be found. Suspicion nags at me.
“Charlie—”
“The drugs aren’t in your office, June. Where are they?”
“Charlie, put the gun down.” Dean suddenly seems more alert. The water laps at his knees, and he works his wrists gently, his shoulders bunching.
Distraction. He needs a distraction.
“Oh, oh my god, Charlie! Charlie,” I cry out. Will I win an Oscar? No. “You shot him. Several times.” I pause. “Good job on that, actually.” As the words come out, it clicks. “And you ran over that guy in the parking lot… on purpose, didn’t you? Who are you? Is Charlie even your name?!”
“Put the gun down, Charlie.” Dean’s voice is low now, warning laced through the words. Ugh, I could shake him. Hello! I’m trying to make a distraction here.
“Shut up, Dean, your way isn’t working.” Charlie’s eyes slip back to Dean, and I let out an ear-piercing shriek.
“Charlie, what the hell? We’re supposed to be friends and you’re over there on my boat, which is sinking, by the way, did you notice that? And you’re holding a gun on my boyfriend.”
I have Charlie’s full attention now, and Dean’s. That delicious, cocky smile turns the corners of his mouth up, and I have never, ever been happier to see a damned dimple in my life.
“Boyfriend? Good. I’m glad you finally banged it out, June. I’m not holding the gun on him. I’m motivating you to tell us where the drugs are.” She shakes her head, grinning.
“I don’t know where they are.” My voice is a thin whine of anxiety. “Is that all I’ve been to you? Some kind of drug mule?”
“June, no. Don’t be like that.” Charlie glares at me, then laughs. “And wait, what? That’s not what that term means. At all.” She snorts. “Trust me, it would be easier if you were just some drug mule. We’d just fish ‘em right out of you.”
“Ew,” I say, cringing.
Dean mouths the words ‘drug mule,’ shaking his head and laughing.
I scowl at him. He doesn’t seem too upset that Charlie is pointing a gun at him.
“I don’t have a clue where they are, Charlie, and I don’t appreciate feeling used.”
Charlie runs a hand through her hair, the cuffs dangling from one wrist, flashing in the sunlight.
“Well, Evans, do you think she’s telling the truth? Or were you blinded by the beaver yet again?”
My jaw drops. “You did not just say that about me.”
Dean narrows his eyes at me. “She doesn’t know.”
“Idiots,” Pierce mumbles. “All of you are fucking idiots.”
“What’s that?” Charlie steps on top of his thigh, causing more blood to leak into the water.
Pierce groans. “Are we going to get off this fucking boat or are you going to drown me?”
“Now that you mention it…” Charlie trails off, squinting across the water at me. “You really don’t know, do you?”
“I don’t. And I don’t know who you are, but you aren’t my friend.” It sounds childish, but it freaking stings. It hurts. This whole time, for the last month, Charlie has been there. An ally in faculty meetings, a shoulder to cry on after my dad’s funeral. I thought I was so lucky I’d met her and we’d hit it off right away?—
“Oh my god. You’ve been here to find out about the drugs from me this whole time? You… you’re not even an academic, are you?”
“Like that’s the end of the world.” Her tone is flippant, but her cocky smile disappears. “Is your boyfriend here going to attack me if I cut his ties? We need to abandon ship, Dean.”
Dean brings his hands up in the air, the zip-tie gone. “Charlie, we are going to have a long talk about your methods when we get off this boat. You don’t just get to decide to step all over the chain of command.”
Chain of command?
“Fine.” Charlie’s brows rise. “Then let’s move this party.”
“What about me?” Pierce whines.
“Looks like you’ll have to swim.” Charlie takes a leap off the sinking boat, splashing into the water, gun tucked into her bra.
Dean stares at Pierce, who moans softly, bleeding from two bullet wounds. “Fuck.”
Water laps Dean’s waist and he bends down, tugging Pierce over his shoulder.
“Leave the traitor there, Dean,” Charlie calls out before ducking under a wave, surfacing closer to my boat. No, the rental boat. My boat is now half sunk, about to join the Santu Espiritu at the bottom of the sea.
Dean grunts, stepping off into the water, towing Pierce behind him.
Trembling, I sit down heavily on the captain’s chair and close my eyes.
I’ve been played, by a woman I thought was my new best friend.
Dean… Dean knows her. Knows Charlie. They’re working together. The knowledge curls inside me, a snake waiting to strike. I shouldn’t jump to conclusions, but when the conclusions in question are jumping out of a sinking boat?—
None of it quells the rising relief in my chest, though. I’m alive. Dean is alive. Charlie is alive, though a complete stranger.
I found the sunken treasure ship and sank my own.
Dean is alive.
I’m alive.
I open my eyes, the sun glancing off the water. I frown, curious what it is that’s caught my attention. Probably Pierce’s foot. Dean is foolishly hauling him across the water to the rental boat.
Charlie hauls herself from the ladder.
“June, I should probably apologize.” Water puddles at her feet. “Dean and I don’t always agree on our methods. I didn’t mean to scare you with that, I’m sorry. It’s nothing personal.”
“Not now, Charlie.” My frown deepens, whatever it is I saw tugging at me, demanding attention.
Something about the water.
Pierce’s toes stick out from it as he floats along behind Dean.
“Okay, don’t talk to me,” Charlie mutters. “I saved the day, but go ahead and be mad.” Out of the corner of my eye, I see Charlie shake her head, wringing her hair out.
The water changes around Pierce, frothing with movement.
A triangular shape cuts through the top of the foam before disappearing.
“Shark,” I scream, my body going rigid with shock and a new round of adrenaline. At this rate, my kidneys are going to shrivel up into dried beans. Perfect for canning, less perfect for daily use.
Dean swims faster, and a second, bigger fin cruises behind him. Pierce is leaving a blood trail, leading the way to the human all-you-can-maul buffet.
A pistol thunders next to me and I swing my attention to Charlie, who peppers the water with bullets.
“Stop it. You’ll hit one of them,” I yell at her.
“That’s the point.” Charlie frowns as the trigger clicks, the magazine empty.
“What the hell is wrong with you?”
Dean’s still doing his best to swim faster.
Terror grips me. What if the sharks don’t go for Pierce, but for Dean?
Am I really this close to a flipping chance at happiness, only to have a shark rip it away?
“Why does this remind me of The Old Man and the Sea ?” Charlie’s head is angled at the water. “Except like, way less boring. Never liked Hemingway.”
I gawk at her.
Maybe there is something I can do. Spinning on my heel, I turn into the cabin of the rental boat, ignoring the walls pressing down on me, caging me in. The cushion thuds against the floor, the storage compartment torn apart in my search. Finally, I look up, heart pounding in my ears.
There it is .
My hands wrap around the cold metal surface of the harpoon, and I race back through the tiny door, slamming behind me. I pull the diving mask off my neck, strapping it back into place.
“Wait, no, June, don’t.” Charlie tugs on my arm, but I shrug her off.
“Just don’t fucking shoot at me, asshole.”
Charlie stares at me, clearly shocked by my vocabulary.
Worth it.
I grip the hot railing tight as I step up onto it, the harpoon in the other hand. Finally, I straighten, eyeing the three fins now bobbing around the two men.
“June!” Charlie yells. “Be careful.”
“Like you care.” I launch off the side of the boat, splashing into the water, slicing through it as fast as I can, harpoon in my fist.
This might be the stupidest thing I’ve done yet today.
I’m going for a new record. Good for me.
Not only is there a chance harpooning one of the sharks will cause a massive frenzy, making the situation more dangerous, but there’s also a chance one will attack me.
Too late now!
My arms cut through the water, legs propelling me on a burst of energy I could’ve sworn I ran out of. Lactic acid builds up, burning my thighs and calves. I push the pain out of my mind.
Fuck this. Fuck Pierce. Fuck the damn sharks and fuck the smugglers.
I focus on the anger, on all that hot resentment building inside me.
Fuck Charlie for lying to me. Fuck my dad for lying to me.
Fuck ‘em all.
The water is choppier now, the wind kicking up the waves. I cut through them, trying not to grind the snorkel to bits in my mouth. A deep inhalation brings saltwater into my lungs, and I blow out fiercely.
Seconds seem to turn to days.
And then, there they are. Dean’s legs churn the water up behind him as he struggles to keep Pierce afloat.
Three hammerheads circle. There’s at least half a dozen more right below. I’ve got one shot. I’ll have to use it well.
I slow, dog paddling next to Dean, my gaze firmly fixed away from his body. I’m hell bent on protecting it.
One of the sharks picks up speed, maw gaping open, rows of razor-sharp teeth aiming for Pierce.
I hesitate. He would deserve it.
Instead, I kick out a leg, connecting with its sensitive eye. It swerves, diving back into the murk. Now just two.
Dean and Pierce are closer to the boat now, and I can hear the sound of the motor.
Charlie is going to leave me. She’s going to leave us all.
I swim toward the noise, keeping my eyes firmly fixed on the sleek predators around me. Dean must be close to the ladder, but they’ll have to figure out how to get Pierce on board.
I’ve got to keep him safe. I can’t lose him, not when I just decided to go on a date with him. And how long has it been since I’ve been on a date?
Too fucking long, that’s how long.
I deserve a date, goddammit. No hammer-fucking-head shark is going to bite its way through my date with Dean.
Another shark approaches. I kick my legs and swim towards it, my teeth clenched around the snorkel. It breaks the surface, then dives back down.
Yeah, you should be afraid, bitch.
I paddle closer to the boat, the harpoon still at the ready. As long as there is a threat to that kernel of happiness I felt this morning, there’s no way I’ll stop.
Something bumps me, then tugs at my waist. My heart stops and I elbow back on reflex, crunching into cartilage.
Please don’t be a shark.
But it didn’t hurt. Could be shock. I swivel as fast as the current allows.
Dean.
He tugs me along now, pulling me behind him until my brain catches up. Pierce must be on the boat. Coming to my senses—what’s left of them—I swim, the sharks finally scared off by the noise of the motors.
I cut through the water, Dean still pulling me behind him, his hand heavy against my arm as he eventually pulls me onto the boat.
Someone gently extricates the harpoon from my hands, and I pant on the deck, shivers wracking my body. Pierce is handcuffed, turning paler by the second as blood leaks from the bullet holes in his shoulder and thigh.
My leg connects with his shin and he opens his eyes for a moment, a wicked smile on his face.
“She’s just your type, isn’t she, Dean? Mean, and probably a sleeper for the other side. Just like her dad.”
Dean swings, a sickening thud sounding as his fist connects with Pierce’s jaw. “I saved your ass. Talk shit about her again, and I’ll throw you back to the sharks myself.”
“Nah, you need me. Turning in a dirty agent?” Pierce laughs, a hoarse, wrecked sound. “Better than telling Uncle Sam you killed me, especially with your record.”
“He has a point, Dean.” Charlie turns the wheel, steering back for land. “Besides, I think June’s traumatized enough.”
Dean’s eyes widen, and he kneels next to me. There’s a welt on his forehead, and I reach for it.
“That looks bad.” My teeth chatter. I’m so damn cold.
“Fuck, princess.”
His arms wrap around me and I close my eyes, snuggling into his neck. He’s so warm.
“I ninja-kicked a shark.”
“Yeah, you did.”
“I saved the day.”
“You sank your own boat.”
“Same difference.” I look up at him, a soft smile on my lips. I like him so much. Even if he lied about Charlie. That was before I knew him, or about the pieces he put in place to stop Pierce from doing terrible things. He never lied about who he was. Charlie, on the other hand…
“The Betty didn’t make it, but I saved you,” I say.
“Yeah, I think you probably did.”
I expected an answering grin, the cocky one I can’t resist, but his expression is serious, thoughtful, even. Dean rubs his cheek against the top of my head and I sigh, pulling myself closer to him.
Maybe I’ll get that date after all.