Page 38 of Extreme Danger

His sleeve was stained with blood up to the elbow.

Visions of what she’d just seen assailed her. Pools of blood, gaping slashes in thick throats. The stupid surprise on the face of the guy with the hole between his eyes.

She’d been pushed over so many unthinkable barriers today, she was in an altered state. The menacing bulk of the islands rose out of the vast expanse of silvery water, towering over them like huge beasts about to pounce. The sky was cobbled with lumpy clouds and night was coming on fast. The lurid stripe of pink on the horizon faded before her eyes.

She was in limbo. Her grim, silent escort was terrifying as the hooded ferryman on the river Styx. Skilled at killing. As if it were something he did on a regular basis. She gulped. It made her throat hurt.

She stared at her toes, so cold they no longer even felt like they were hers, and tried to speak. She couldn’t suck enough air into her lungs to make a sound. Islands flew by, plumes of spray arced behind them. Finally, she made herself heard over the roar of the motor, asking a question she didn’t think he’d answer. “Whoareyou?”

His gaze didn’t even flick down. “Not now,” he yelled.

Not now?She’d been scared out of her wits, abused, insulted, threatened. “I want some goddamn answers!” she shrieked.

He slowed the boat, killed the motor. They slid forward in the sudden silence on leftover momentum, rocking side to side on the inky black heaves.

“OK, then. Listen hard. Hear anybody coming after us?”

She listened. She heard wind, water, her own chattering teeth.

“No,” she said.

“The correct answer to that question is ‘not yet.’ Followed by, ‘but pretty fucking soon.’ Do you have any idea how lucky you are to be alive?”

“Oh, I’m supposed to be grateful?” Her voice shook, splintered. “Gee, thanks! I want to know why I was in danger of getting killed in the first place! Who were those psychos? And who the hell are you?”

“Your timing blows. Shut up and—”

“Stop it!” She grabbed his arm. “You’ve been saying that all day! Shut up and do as you’re told, or die! Guess what. I no longer give a shit!”

“Fuck.” He shook her off and she thudded heavily down to the bottom of the boat on her butt. “Do you want us both to drown? Stay still.”

She rose up onto her knees. The boat rocked violently. “What, am Ibotheringyou?” she hissed.

“Hey.” He grabbed a handful of the thermal blanket and jerked her closer to him. “You may find this hard to believe, but slitting throats is not one of my top five favorite activities. Truth is, it puts me in a foul mood—”

“You’re insane!”

“Right. I started out that way and went straight down from there. Now listen. Arguing is a waste of time that could cost us both our lives. Do you understand that?”

The force behind his words knocked her backward. Everything she had just witnessed him do came back to her again in a sickening rush. He operated, if that was the right word, with the lethal precision of a specialist.

The bubble of manic courage was popped. She was cowed again. She gave him a small nod, and huddled into the blanket.

He turned away. The motor roared back to life. The boat picked up speed until it was skimming over the choppy, wind-whipped waves.

Maybe it was enough to get through the day with her life intact. She could worry about her pride later.

Becca kept her mouth shut for the time it took to get to Crane Cove. Nick was grateful for that small favor. The ice cave in his mind was great for certain complex mental activities, like calculating bullet trajectories and wind vectors, but it was not the mental place to be when dealing with a stressed-out, hysterical woman.

They rounded a bend, and the lights of Crane Cove spread out before him. So there was to be no high-speed boat chase, no bullets flying. Almost home free. It was uncanny how lucky they’d been.

First, he had to get Becca squared away, returned to wherever she belonged, and then he would have to face up to his own personal failure.

He pulled into the marina. It seemed quiet enough. He’d considered renting a slip at Shepherd’s Bay, which was closer, but the marina was small, and people were more likely to comment on his boat or notice his truck. Crane Cove was no bustling metropolis, but it was several times larger than Shepherd’s Bay.

And they were conspicuous. He was soaked, spattered with blood, and he had a near-naked woman in tow. Anybody who saw him would have lots to tell the private investigator that Zhoglo would send. He’d used a false ID to rent the slip. Looked like that ID was a goner, if the place had a security camera. He hated compromising alternate ID’s. They were expensive.

He moored in his slip. Dim lights, no sound. A nothing evening in Nowheresville. Good. He climbed out of the boat, hauled on a line to draw it closer to the dock, and beckoned to her. Spent a teeth-grinding eternity waiting for her to collect herself to her feet and get out.

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