Page 96 of Savannah Royals
Target acquired.
“Ugh, help me with her, will ya?” He turns to his friends. “We’ll take her inside. I’m sure the boys won’t mind having a little fun tonight.”
A second guard comes over—the one with the itchy trigger finger—and that’s when I make my move. I collapse fully into Ben’s arms, going limp. As though I’ve fainted.
“Christ!” he cries out.
It’s the last thing he ever says. From my slumped position, I slip out one of the knives strapped to my waist and slide the blade through his lung with the quickest, quietest of pops.
Target eliminated.
I whirl on the second guard, stabbing him in the gut as the three other wolves descend from the shadows.
The third Magpie, unfortunately, is out of my reach. He fires a warning shot with his gun and opens his mouth to scream. “Wolves! Wolves!”
Paul silences him with a single cut from his knife. Abe grabs my arm and drags me toward the gangplank. He pushes me to my knees, and I crawl into the tiny space under the wooden ramp. My feet dangle over open air at the edge of the pier. A lick of water laps at me, wetting the hem of my skirt.
“Here, Kat.” Abe shoves the satchel into my outstretched hands.
Footsteps rumble aboard the ship. Magpie men appear overhead. Gunshots fire into the night. They target Paul and Tony, the two most visibleattackers, as they scamper down the gangplank. Abe emerges from his crouch with a roar, rushing the first Magpie to step dockside.
While the remaining Magpies descend, I shoulder the satchel and begin to climb the underside of the gangplank. My skirt flutters over open air as my fingertips latch onto the edge of the ramp. Our enemies’ feet stampede down, rattling the wood beneath my grip, but I’m undeterred. Legs swinging and fingers creeping, I glide upward. By the time I’ve reached the top, all the Magpies are at the bottom, none the wiser.
I swing my legs up and over, ready to slink aboard the ship when the gunshot fires. It whizzes so close to my temple, my red hair blows forward, sucked briefly into its wake. The bullet lodges in the wooden hull.
When I glance back, Abe pounces on my attacker. His hand grapples for the gun, and it fires again, a bullet piercing through the wooden pier. Twisting, Abe wrests the weapon away and tosses it into the water with a splash.
“Go, Kat!” he yells.
And even though my gut tells me not to leave them, I do.
The ship lurches as I dart aboard, moving with the tide.
As I fight for my footing, a body slams me from behind. We fall to the ground, rolling and tussling. I scramble my way on top and deliver a wicked throat punch to my attacker’s neck. He gasps, hands flying to his crushed trachea. His face pales as he tries to suck in air, panicking when he realizes he can’t. Soon enough, he’ll be blue.
My thoughts errantly fly to Matthew. What would he do if this man presented before him in the hospital? His response would be so inherently different from mine; Matthew would move to save. Instead, I pull out my knife to end the suffering.
When it’s over, I rise and yank off my ridiculous skirt, tossing it into the Savannah River. In just my bodice, jodhpurs, and heels, I pace the deck to search for hidden Magpies, but I’m alone.
Shouts ring and fiststhuddown on the dock, but there’s no time to worry. Like always, I have to trust the boys to do their job. Same as they trust me to do mine.
I stride back to the gangplank and kick until it dislodges from the ship, falling into the water with a resounding splash. No one is ever coming up or getting off this ship that way again.
I wrench open the door to the hull and descend. In the belly of the ship, I rip open my bag and pull out a tankard of gasoline, splashing it across the wooden floor. I sprint around the hull to drizzle the accelerant all over, dragging it up and down walls, over piles of cash and crates of supplies. I freeze when I come across dozens of white blocks on a table.
Cocaine powder.
I grimace and dump gasoline directly on the dangerous cache. There are opium bottles and marijuana hash nearby as well. I pluck a freshly rolled joint from the bunch, clutching it in my free hand while I hurry onward.
When I reach the back of the hull, I catalog a few kegs of gunpowder and give them a very wide berth. When my gasoline runs out, I race up the steep stairs to the deck. At the top, I pull out Paul’s silver cigarette lighter and start thumbing it.
Once the joint is lit, I toss the smoking stick into the hull. Flames erupt. I don’t linger to watch.
A breath of cool wind kisses my cheeks as I cross the deck. I whip a knife from my waistline and cut a long, thick strand of rope free of the rigging.
Down below, Abe, Tony, and Paul are all on their feet, ducking and swinging punches. One Magpie is down, three still standing.
Rope lanced free, I swing one leg over the ship’s rail. As I’m dangling myself overboard, preparing to dismount, I see it happen. Two of the Magpies jump Tony. He plunges a knife deep into the chest of one attacker while Paul grabs the other by the collar to hurl him back. The Magpie tumbles and rolls away, then fumbles for something silver at his waist.
