Page 88 of Ship Outta Luck

These assholes.

These assholes murdered my father. They kidnapped me when I was thirteen. They stole so much joy from my life.

Anger burns the fear away, until all that is left is a molten core, seething inside me.

Dean forges ahead, climbing the ladder, tossing his pack into the boat like it weighs nothing.

“How much propane was left? In the tank on the beach?” My fingers find the gun.

“This is not the time to worry about littering.” Dean yanks me up the ladder, and I wince at the brute force move.

“I have a rifle, and I have an idea,” I manage.

Dean follows my gaze. An evil grin spreads across his face and he closes the gap between us, pressing a kiss to my forehead.

“I like the way you think, princess.” He angles his head, studying me for a short moment.

I swallow.

“But you have to hurry. Go line up the shot.” In an instant, he helps take my backpack off and presses the gun into my hands.

I swing myself up onto the bow of the boat, kneeling on it, my cheek pressed to the butt of the gun as I line up the sights.

I take a deep breath. Another.

“Come on, June. Steady.”

The crosshairs are there. All I have to do is squeeze.

The gun barks, recoil slamming into my shoulder, making me wince.

The explosion doesn’t happen instantly. Instead, the impact of the shot knocks the propane tank into the bonfire. I pull my face away from the sight, frowning.

Then it happens.

A massive, action movie worthy explosion.

“Boom,” I say, slightly dazed.

Flames billow into the sky. People scramble as the parked ATVs get caught in the fallout. Screams follow them and I blink, an echo of the bright explosion searing into my retinas. Dean says something, but I can’t make it out; the recoil of the rifle must’ve knocked some of my hearing out.

He pulls me back to the deck of the boat, taking the gun away.

The engine roars to life, and I sit on the pleather seat where my father taught me how to fish and watch the chaos.

It’s not over yet.

I have a sneaking suspicion that the worst of it hasn’t even started.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-FOUR

DEAN

“Wait,the anchor, you’ll ruin the boat or dig us in.” June hops onto the catwalk. Her hands are shaking, and I bite back a curse. Running to the steering column, I start to lower the motors.

“They’re shooting at the boat, June, goddammit.”

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