His companion shrugged. “What the hell did you expect? It’s a sailing wharf. Mostly yachts.”
“Yeah, well this sucks.”
“Hey, next time you steal the boat and I’ll rescue the hot blonde.”
He held his hand out to me, to help me board. I took it gratefully.
“This hot blonde was in the process of rescuing herself,” I chimed in. “Just so you know, I didn’t ask for anyone’s help.”
The bearded guy chuckled. “I love the way you left the word ‘hot’ in there.”
“Well if the shoe fits...” I grinned back at him.
CRACK!
Something on the boat snapped. Or splintered. Or broke under tension.
“.50 cal?” Randall asked, looking casually back at the hill.
“Most likely, yeah.”
“Time to go, then.”
I followed my dance partner’s gaze backward. The lights of the palace made it look even more beautiful from this distance. As I watched, a flash of yellow muzzle fire burst from somewhere high atop the castle wall. Less than a second later, a hole exploded in the boat’s floor, two feet from my foot.
“Holy fuck!”
I dove down, crouching low behind one of the back-to-back double seats. Neither of the guys seemed concerned about cover as they pushed us off from the dock.
“Damn,” said the man called Randall. “If only I had my Win Mag…”
“W—What’s that?”
“It’s the rifle I’d use,” he replied calmly, “to put a bowling-ball sized exit wound into that fucker shooting at us.”
Another shot split the night. This one erupted in a plume of water, right where the boat had been only two seconds ago.
“The both of you should get down!” I cried.
Randall was looking back through a pair of sleek black binoculars now. “Sweetheart, if he puts one on you that seat’s going to offer you all the protection of a paper condom,” he said. “Shit, it’d drill a hole right through the engine block, and still do enough damage to—”
WHIIIRRRRRRRRRR!
Whatever else he said was lost to the roar of the engine. My running partner gunned the throttle, and the boat surged forward in a wonderful rush of wind and noise.
Thank God!
For a few moments he was cutting the wheel left and right, weaving the bow through a series of random S-turns that I knew were designed to make us a harder target. No other shots rang out, no more splashes bloomed in the water. By the time we reached the end of the jetty, I felt almost safe.
Gradually, I stood up.
“Who are you guys?” I demanded.
I moved next to the driver, watching as he steered us around the jagged rock wall and into open waters. The boat sliced easily through the choppy waves and out into the darkness of the Aegean Sea. It wasn’t the smoothest ride, but it wasn’t terrible either.
“We’re friends,” the guy steering the boat said. “Call us… friends with common interests.”
I braced my legs and crossed my arms. “Got a name, friend?”