I know what he’s telling me. We take them out at a better time and place than this one.
“Accidents happen all the time to people. Maybe karma does us a solid,” Crash comments.
And by karma and accident, I know what he means.
Cole’s eyes shift to Crash. “You good with that VP?”
Crash nods.
Connor rouses, lifting his head and moaning.
Billy kicks him in the ribs. “You alive, fucker? Too bad.”
“What’s to stop him from calling the cops on us?” I hiss.
“He goes down for kidnapping two women.” Cole folds his arms. “You got a better idea?”
I drag in a breath and pace away, spearing a hand through my hair. “Fine, but I guarantee this isn’t the end of it.”
Crash slaps my back with a grin. “That’s what I’m hoping, too, kid.” Then he looks at Cole. “You want to play good cop/bad cop, Prez? You be the bad cop, you’re so good at it.”
“We’ve got to get on that boat,” Cole snaps. “I’d better make it quick.” He pulls his gun and presses the barrel to one of theboys’ temples, bending low to whisper something to him. Then moves on to the next one.
One of them starts bawling, and the other pisses himself.
Then he moves to Connor, yanking his head back with a fistful of hair. With the barrel of the gun pressed to his head, whatever Cole says to him, has Connor blanching. The kid tries to look tough, but he’s scared shitless. I can see it in his eyes, and I swear to myself this isn’t the end of this.
He looks past Prez and meets my gaze.
Payback’s comin’, motherfucker.
He reads the message loud and clear in my face. The realization that he’s in way over his head is plain in his eyes. For now, it’ll have to be enough, because it’s all I get.
“Come on,” Crash says, batting my arm with the back of his hand. “Let’s get your brother some help.”
CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX
Rafe—
Yanking my shirt off, I press it to my brother’s side and stare into his eyes. “You’re gonna make it, Kyle. You hang on, you hear?”
He nods, but his teeth are chattering. He’s stretched out on the bottom of the boat, his head in Tori’s lap.
Bev has the throttle pushed all the way, and we surge across the bay, wind whipping in our faces, and water churning behind us.
“When we pull up to the dock, I need two of you to grab those lines at the bow and stern and jump across and pull us in.”
Billy and TJ move to grab the lines and stand at the ready.
Bev guides us in and jams it in reverse, easing us into place like a pro. Billy and TJ jump to the dock and pull the pontoon alongside, tying her off.
Marcus gets under Kyle’s legs, and my dad and I get under his torso and we carry him off the boat and up the dock to the bar. Once we get inside, Bev becomes a whirlwind, shoving four-legged tables together and clearing off napkins and condiments with a swipe of her arm.
“Oh, my God.” Fiona holds her hand to her mouth, her gaze following the men carrying a much paler Kyle.
“Wendy,” Bev barks, “bring me some clean tablecloths. The ones we use for Christmas. They’re in the supply closet, top shelf.”
The waitress hurries off to get them and returns a few seconds later. Bev and her spread them out.