Run To Rome

He had a gun? Where the heck did he get a gun from?

The dull thud of multiple bullets impacting the stern of the boat spurred her back into action. She climbed into the captain’s chair, but stayed low. Locating the ignition slot in the dark took a few nerve-wracking seconds. Finally, the key slid in and she turned it. The engines rumbled to life, throbbing with suppressed power beneath her feet.

She squinted in an attempt to make out some of the cockpit layout, waiting breathlessly for Trent to give the okay. Her fingers warmed cold metal as she suppressed the instinctive urge to open the throttle right—

“Now, Halli, go!”

Adrenaline spiked again as she rose up and thrust the throttle forward. The engines responded with a deafening roar. Water churned from the sudden velocity of the propellers, flooding the back doorway. Her head jerked back as they shot forward. A loud boom scared the daylights out of her, but the boat kept going so she plowed on. After they’d exited the building, she figured out Trent had unlatched the front doors but not taken the time to push them open.

Driving the cruiser with the running lights off, she searched anxiously to avoid other vessels. Once they were well out of range of the men and their guns on the dock, she’d be able to slow down.

A strange thrill of exhilaration coursed through her as the wind whipped her hair. It’d be frightening if she didn’t feel so amazingly, wonderfully alive. She couldn’t believe they’d pulled off the plan and escaped for a third time. And she hadn’t killed a man!

After another minute, she eased the throttle back to about ten miles per hour, turned on the running lights, double checked to make sure there were no boats in the near vicinity that she’d run into, and removed the camera from around her neck. As she dropped it on the captain’s seat behind her, she laughed and threw a victory smile over her shoulder for Trent.

Her heart anchored in her stomach at the sight of the empty boat.

Chapter 10

Trent didn’t have the strength to pull himself up the built-in swim ladder and over the side of the Scappare one handed, especially with the heavy drag of the water against his jeans. He’d nearly let go when the boat slowed, but she hadn’t stopped yet. He was amazed he’d held on this long.

The boat’s running lights blinked on.

“Trent!”

Halli’s voice was shrill with alarm. Without warning, their forward momentum dropped to nothing. His body slammed into the ladder. Pain blurred the edges of his consciousness as a small tidal wave of lake water washed up over his head, filling his mouth and nose with the nasty-tasting shit. Battling through the haze in his brain, Trent fought to keep his fingers fisted on the ladder rung and his legs clear of the propellers beneath the back end of the boat.

The water subsided as the cruiser bobbed and coasted after the abrupt stop. Over the low growl of the idling motor, Halli called out his name again, sounding even more frantic than before.

Trent coughed and spit a mouthful of water. “Back here.” The words scraped his raw throat.

Halli’s face appeared over the edge of the stern. “Thank, God!” Her brow wrinkled, despite the relieved smile on her face. “I thought I left you behind.”

He summoned a weary grin. “You can’t get rid of me that easy, sweetheart.”

“I wouldn’t have left you on purpose. I swear, Trent, I—”

“Relax. It was a joke.” He coughed up more water.

“Oh, right.”

She smiled down at him, her brow smoothed this time. All of a sudden, despite knowing only four years separated them, she looked incredibly young. Or maybe it was just that he felt so damn old after the past ten minutes. And tired. And sore.

As much as he enjoyed seeing her smile after so many frowns throughout the day, his arm throbbed with painful insistence. He didn’t imagine the polluted lake water was good for an open wound, either. Unfortunately, where he needed to go looked very far away. Clenching his jaw tight, he took hold of both sides of the ladder and secured a foothold on the bottom rung under the water.

“Need a hand?” Halli asked.

“I got it.”

Each flex of his left bicep was like a knife stabbing into his arm, but somehow he made it to the top. Prepared to heave himself over the side, his wet hand slipped on the smooth fiberglass and his ribs took the brunt of his weight when he landed on the hard edge of the side of the boat. A deep groan whooshed between his compressed lips.

Halli stepped forward, grabbed hold of his arm and pulled. White hot agony seared along his nerve endings and an involuntary, hoarse shout tore from his lips.

She let go and jumped back in surprise. “I’m sorry!”

Trent fought to breathe. Pain washed over him in undulating waves. It wouldn’t have been so bad, except that she’d latched on right where a bullet had ripped through his skin. She’d also tipped his balance enough that he slid all the way into the boat with a thud, unable to halt his forward momentum with his injured arm.

“Oh…God.” Halli stood in front of him, staring at her hands tinged red from his blood. “You’re hurt.”