Remi and Dimitris ducked.
He drove in a zigzag pattern, worried they’d be overtaken before they reached the shore. He looked over at Remi, shouting, “How good of a swimmer are you?”
“Why?”
“A wild idea,” he called out. “You two jump off the back. I draw them away. Keep to a breaststroke. They won’t see you in the dark.”
“How?” she asked. “We’re going too fast.”
“Technique,” Sam shouted. “Not quite a back dive. More like a mummy in a coffin. Body straight, arms crossed tight on your chest, feet together. Just make sure you land on your butt and back, not your feet.”
Remi glanced over her shoulder at the heavy wake trailing after them, then at Sam, her eyes filled with uncertainty.
Dimitris took her arm. “Better than getting shot.”
She looked back at Sam. “How are you getting off?”
“After I lead them away.”
Dimitris tried guiding her to the back of the boat. When she hesitated, Sam said, “Don’t worry. You and I have a date. Wouldn’t dream of missing it.” He waited until they were in position, hoping to keep them out of view and out of the other boat’s path. He slowed to about fifty miles per hour. The two poised on the back of the boat. “Now!”
They pushed off. Sam pressed the throttle forward, steered away from them. His slower speed cost him. The Kyrils’ speedboat was gaining.
At least Remi and Dimitris were safe.
Not that he was about to give up on his own life. He lashed one of the mooring ropes around the wide-open throttle, started to tie that to the steering wheel, aiming for open water. He was going a lot faster than when they jumped. Still, what choice did he have? About to let go of the steering wheel and make for the back of the boat, he saw the red port-side lights of the Kyrils’ yacht.
A much better plan, he decided.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Remi ended up about fifteen feet behind Dimitris, finally seeing him once the wake of the passing speedboats dissipated. As Dimitris swam toward her, she looked around. They were at least two miles from shore, the lights of the city twinkling against the ink-black horizon. Turning about, she saw the two speedboats growing more distant. As much as she realized she and Dimitris needed to swim to shore, she felt tethered to the spot, treading water, while her gut twisted inside her.
Dimitris followed the direction of her gaze. “You think he’ll jump?”
“Let’s hope so.” His boat seemed to be slowing, which made her think he already had—until she saw it make a sudden turn toward the Kyrils’ yacht. They were too far away for her to see if Sam was still on the boat, but the turn was too deliberate. A barrage of bright muzzle flashes from the pursuing speedboat lit up the night sky.
Sam’s vessel continued veering toward the Mirage. It hit the swim deck, then hurtled upward, the red and green sidelights spinning like a kaleidoscope. It exploded in a blinding flash, then crashed into the water.
Remi’s gut clenched. Her limbs turned leaden, pulling her down. If Sam was in that boat, there was nothing they could do. If he wasn’t . . . they needed to get help. She forced herself to breathe evenly, trying to clear her sense of shock. “Let’s go.”
They started the long swim to shore, covering the first mile in about half an hour by her estimation. Dimitris was a strong swimmer, but paced himself to match Remi, who discovered that swimming a couple miles in a pool was a far cry from the same distance in the sea, when their only nourishment these past two days was the soda they’d found in the cabin. Each time they stopped to rest, Remi looked back, thinking about Sam.
Her only hope was when she saw the Kyril yacht pulling away. That, at least, meant they weren’t coming back for them or Sam—if he’d survived.
“He’ll be fine,” Dimitris said. “We’ll send help as soon as we reach shore.”
He started sidestroking to the north. Remi followed with a paced breaststroke. After what seemed like an eternity, Remi was certain the lights they were swimming toward seemed farther now than when they’d started. She and Dimitris stopped to rest again. She turned on her back, unable to do more than let the current carry her where it would.
“Remi?”
She didn’t have the energy to respond. Instead, she stared up at the sky, trying to find the North Star.
Sam . . .
It’ll always lead me to you.
“Remi! Look!”