Page 94 of These Rough Waters

“If I don’t go with him, Rett, he doesn’t leave.”

“He isn’t leaving anyway,” Rett tells me, “Because I’m going to kill him.”

He was bleeding, turning the light color of his shirt red and his skin was losing color quicker than the clouds were rolling in. Behind him the waves slam against the rocks, the lighthouse across the bay beaming its light across the water.

“Ready,” He whispers, “One…”

“Rett,” I plead, looking past him to Trevor who watches his men while they attempt to steal a boat.

“Two…”

My heart notches up in speed, the pain dulled thanks to the adrenaline coursing through my veins.

“Three!” Rett roars.

Panic makes my feet move but just before I spin, I see him launch himself at one of the guys, shoving him into the dangerously turbulent water beneath the dock. I run as fast as my legs can carry me, my blood thumping so hard and fast I swear I can feel it pumping through my veins, roaring in my ears.

I should have known it would never have worked, there were too many of them and not enough of us. I’m grabbed around the waist and hauled back, a scream ripping from my throat as I’m thrown back down. I’ve barely recovered when a chunk of my hair is grasped in an unforgiving fist, and they begin to drag me. I wail, my fingers digging into the wrist to try and give some relief at the hair being ripped out at the back of my head.

“Little fucking bitch!” Trevor roars, throwing me back down next to a downed Rett. He groans on his front, a fresh split in his brow and lip. His sorrow filled eyes meet mine.

“I warned you!”

Trevor rams the barrel of a gun against the back of Rett’s head.

“No!” I scream.

“It’s okay,” Rett mouths.

“No, please!” I beg, “Please, Trevor. Don’t.”

“Hey!” A guy I recognize from the docks comes storming towards us and while he was now in danger, I was grateful for the distraction. I throw myself over Rett, blocking Trevor’s shot.

“Move!” Trevor orders.

“No!”

“Maya,” Rett groans, “Move. It’s okay.”

“No!”

“What do you think you’re doing!?” The old man screeches. “That’s my boat!”

Trevor turns his gun onto the man, “I’m taking it.”

He stutters to a stop, “Miss Maya?”

“Let him take it,” I tell him, hoping I’ve managed to save Rett.

“It won’t take you all,” He swallows.

“How many?” Trevor asks.

“Four,” he says, “She’s only a small vessel.”

“Fine.”

“Sir?”

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