The guard struck Rip on the shoulder with the butt of his gun, knocking him to the deck. Lela shrieked and covered her mouth. Zap reached for Lela’s arm, daring to touch her.
Emotion took over. Furious, Rip reached for a flare gun within reach on the deck. He fired it in the air, then kicked the stack of remaining flares down the stairs to the engine room.
Zap glanced up, and in that split second of opportunity, Rip grabbed Lela around the waist and jumped overboard, catching sight of the confused look on the guard’s face on the way by.
Rip plunged into the bay with Lela. The yacht was set to explode. The fire from the flare gun would hit the boat, igniting the rest of the flares in the engine room. The diesel fuel would burst into flames, and the fire would roar through the yacht. There were enough grenades on board to start a small war, which would add to the fireworks.
“Hold your breath,” Rip said, then dove underwater with his arm linked to Lela’s. He swam away as fast as he could, and Lela kept up.
Rip briefly surfaced and held Lela above water. She gasped for air. The boat had become a glowing ember. “Back underwater,” he said.
Lela took a deep breath and dove below the water’s surface with him. The concussion of the explosions boomed through the water, knocking them back. Rip looked up. Flames from the fire rolled over the surface, but didn’t reach underwater.
Rip took Lela’s arm and dragged her upward. Breaking through the water, she gasped for oxygen. Then he held her and floated in the waves, watching the fire rage on the yacht, burning the last of Lela’s enemies to ashes.
Within minutes, the bay was swarming with coast guard. Rip flagged one of the boats for rescue, and he handed Lela up first. Then he was hauled aboard.
Blankets were provided, and Rip put one over Lela’s lap, then another around her. She rested her head on his shoulder, and he kissed the top of her head. “We can go home now, darling.”