Page 74 of Take Me Back
The vessel flies toward us, and a man tumbles over the side. Vander shoves me to the ground before it hits the shore with acrack. For a moment, the motor continues running, digging into the sand.
Vander rises to a crouch, taking a step toward the shore, and then all hell breaks loose.
The boat explodes, sending flames streaking into the sky and fiberglass pieces flying everywhere. I huddle into a ball on the beach as Vander takes a chunk of something to the head, knocking him to his knees again.
And then the impossible happens. I hear Dane’s voice.
“Kat!”
I turn and see him running toward me, wearing no shirt, his face bruised.
As soon as I have my wits, I spring to my feet and race toward him, only to be stopped mid-dash by the percussion of gunshots and sand flying around my feet.
“Take another step, and the next one is in your kneecap,” Vander says.
Dane’s reaching behind his back when Anton appears from the darkness, a wooden club in hand.
“Watch out!” I scream.
Dane swings to the side, and the blow glances off his head instead of hitting him straight on. Anton moves to swing again, but Dane tackles him to the ground.
Vander’s hand tangles in my hair, jerking me back against his body. The hot barrel of the gun presses into my temple as Dane lands blow after blow on Anton’s face.
“You want to watch her die, Cross?”
Dane sits up, Anton pinned beneath him, but his attention turns to me.
“I will shoot her in the fucking head.”
“Let her go.”
Vander laughs, sounding like a deranged movie villain. “Not a fucking chance.”
“I will kill you.”
“Not before I kill her. Put your hands up. Now.”
When Dane hesitates, Vander digs the barrel of the gun into my head. “I’m not fucking around, Cross. I will pull this fucking trigger, and I’ll still get paid. Do not push me.”
“Who’s paying you?”
“Doesn’t fucking matter anymore, because instead of sending you alive, I’ll just send your head. I’ll take a hit, but it’ll still be a fat payday.”
Something flashes over Dane’s face too quickly for me to interpret. Who the hell would pay him?
“Bonitez,” Dane says, tossing out a name I’ve never heard.
Vander laughs again. “Try again.”
“Vargas.”
“And on the second try, we have a winner.”
This name doesn’t mean anything to me either, but from the way Dane stiffens, it obviously does to him.
“Now put your fucking hands up.”
Dane moves like he’s about to comply, but instead his hands go behind his back. He pulls a gun and squeezes the trigger.
