Page 55 of Ground Truth

Flint staggered across the deck, holding on to anything he could grasp to stay upright. He kept his gun aimed at the burned man as he took a quick check over the edge of the boat.

Flint confirmed that the captain’s body had been taken all the way down by the weight of the big gun.

Drake climbed aboard the speedboat at the rear ladder, the same as Flint had done. He checked on the burned man and summarized his condition.

Drake shook his head. “Guy’s in a bad way.”

“Would have been us if he’d been a better shot,” said Flint, slumping into the captain’s seat.

Drake found a large first aid kit and a Syrette of morphine.

“These guys were serious,” Drake said, administering the shot to the burned man.

As the morphine took hold, the man’s groans slowed, and he drifted off. Flint shook his head. The guy probably wouldn’t make it, given the extent of his burns.

“How far away do you think we are now?” Flint asked as he turned the boat toward the coast. “Five miles? Ten?”

Drake shrugged. “We were eight miles out when we took the first hit from the fifty cal. So maybe about the same?”

“We’ll never make it back to shore. We’re taking on water. And the fuel has been leaking for a while,” Flint said. “We’ll get as close as we can. Maybe ride the tide. Stay with the boat until it goes down.”

“And then what?” Drake asked with a grin. “Pray?”

Flint shrugged. “Whatever works.”

They limped along with the engine maxed out at a few miles an hour. Flint scanned the skies for a rescue plane of some sort. Satellite surveillance or simple radar should notice them and send a rescue vessel.

Drake nudged him out of the captain’s seat. “Take a break. You know we’ll have plenty of explaining to do when we get back. Get your story straight.”

Flint accepted the offer and found a section of seating that wasn’t charred to lie on.

His head felt better when he was lying down, but his mind still raced through disjointed and foggy moments.

Who were those guys on the fifty cal? Why were they trying to bring down the helo? How the hell did they know he and Drake would be flying around out here?

Flint felt himself dozing off when he heard the sound of a powerful helicopter engine approaching from overhead. He covered his eyes and stared into the distance.

“Friend or enemy?” Drake asked, still standing at the steering wheel, peering in the same direction.

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Chapter 28

Miami

Flint and Drake pulled up in Gaspar’s driveway late. They came in through the back gate, bypassing the front door and the doorbell, which would have started the dog barking and awakened his neighbors. Their clothes had dried, but they looked bedraggled and exhausted. Which they no doubt were.

“Sorry to be so late. Took longer than we’d expected,” Drake said as they approached. “Thanks for the rescue, by the way.”

“Glad to help. Maddy would never forgive me if I let Michael drown out there.” Gaspar raised his coffee mug in the direction of the kitchen. “Fresh pot inside if you want it.”

“Yeah, well, you might have sent the calvary twenty minutes earlier. Those guys almost took us out before we had a chance to drown,” Drake replied on his way inside.

“Seriously, Gaspar. Thank you. You went above and beyond today. Truly.” Flint plopped onto a chaise lounge, kneading his forehead between the eyes. “Hanna Campbell isn’t even one of Scarlett’s cases. No reason you should be on the hook for any of what’s going on.”

Gaspar shrugged. “I meant what I said. Maddy might be seven years old, but she’s a force to be reckoned with. I wouldn’t want to be in her line of fire.”

“You got that right. She’s something, isn’t she?” Flint grinned. “I’m starting to see why Scarlett hired you.”

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