“You think they keep guns in the guest boats?”
She shut the compartment and stood. “It’s Florida. Worth a shot. You don’t have a gun, do you?”
“Sure, it’s taped between my butt cheeks, if you want to grab it.”
Shee sighed. They maybe should have taken a second to grab weapons.
“She’s headed for open water.” Mason jerked the wheel right to point toward Jupiter Inlet, the treacherous stretch of water leading to the ocean.
“Are those whitecaps?” Shee pointed at rows of churning white lines in the distance.
Mason nodded. “She might wreck the boat getting through there.”
“We might wreck ours getting through there.”
He seemed unconcerned.
Mason whipped around a large sightseeing boat pulling from a pier. Shee grabbed the windshield to keep from being thrown off the side.
Martisha’s boat hit the whitecaps and the gap between them closed.
Shee held her breath, watching Martisha’s small craft bob and dip. A moment later, the nurse successfully cleared the churning inlet and streaked to the right, heading south down the coast.
Damn.
Mason used one hand to push her back onto the bench. “Hold on.”
He dropped their speed and hit the first wave at an angle, the boat rolling so hard to the right Shee feared it might flip. Her fingers strained to keep a grip to the underside of the seat.
She remembered why she never spent a lot of time on boats.
Mason motored away from the rocks. In the park at the edge of the inlet, she spotted onlookers pointing, no doubt wondering who the crazy people broaching the inlet in tiny boats were.
Another rolling wave slammed into the side of the boat and Mason fought through it, righting the craft and moving into open ocean. Compared to the protected waters of the Intracoastal Waterway, the wind and chop increased here ten-fold. Shee’s ears whistled no matter which way she turned her head. Her hair whirled like a storm.
“Where is she going?” she asked aloud, knowing the chances Mason could hear her were slim.
Does the woman have an escape plan? Or has she simply panicked?
Shee heard a pop! loud enough to surmount the thunder of their roaring engine. Martisha had turned toward them, one hand on the wheel and one pointed in their direction.
Shee squinted.
“Is she shooting at us?”
She stood. Another crack rang out and Mason dropped the boat’s speed. The shift in momentum combined with Shee’s rise from the bench tossed her forward like a ragdoll.
Grappling the smooth sides of the console, her fingers found no purchase.
Shee turned her head a second before smashing her face into the windshield, striking her temple above the hairline. Metal bit into her scalp. Spinning to the left, her rib cracked against the port railing. Her feet arched above her head.
She tumbled into the water.
The roar of the wind stopped.
Shee smiled.
The quiet was lovely.
Something whizzed by her like a little bottle rocket.
Neat.
But—
Why is it so cold?
She opened her eyes to find her hands floating above her, backlit by sunlight.
That’s weird...
Her chin dropped as movement caught her attention.
Three small sea turtles hovered in front of her, floating like babies in embryonic fluid. She reached to touch them.
So beautiful...
A shaft of light illuminated their adorable black eyes, their tiny fins pumping through the water.
Look at how they swim...I want to swim...
Something caught in her hair, jerking her backward.
No!
Before she could escape, something clasped her upper arm, yanking her from her turtle friends.
They blinked at her, drifting farther away.
No, wait—
A fire lit in her lungs.
Oh my God. I can’t breathe. I can’t—
The wind returned, roaring in her ears. She gasped for breath. Soothing oxygen filled her lungs.
“Grab the boat!”
It was Mason’s voice, demanding her attention. He slipped a hand beneath her armpit and hauled her into the Whaler like a landed tuna.
He hovered above her, his expression twisted with concern.
“What happened?” she asked. She liked it on the floor of the boat. The wind couldn’t get to her and the engine had stopped.
“Are you okay? Your head’s bleeding.”
She stared into his face, trying to piece together what had brought her to this place.
“Did you see the baby turtles?” she asked.
He shook his head. Instead of being enchanted, he seemed even more concerned.
He would have liked them if he’d seen them.
“They were so cute—”
“You hit your head.”
His fingers moved through her hair as if he were searching for nits. He touched something sore and she jerked away.
“Ow.”
“You’re cut. You might need a stitch or two.”
She closed her eyes. “They just want to go home.”
“Who?”
“The loggerheads.”
Mason helped her sit up. He lifted the seat cushion and rummaged in a locker there to retrieve a small white towel. He handed it to her.
“Press this against your head. Stay down here. Do not get up.”
She took the towel as he started the engine.
“They just wanted to go home,” she mumbled again, pressing the towel against the bit that hurt.
&&&
Chapter Forty-Two
Tyler rolled past The Loggerhead Inn in his rented, dark red Hyundai sedan, noting the cars in the hotel’s parking lot.
Looks like it’s still in business—
He dropped his speed another notch.
Hold on. That’s the couple’s truck.
He squinted, straining to catch the license plate on the back of the black Ford F150.
What are the chances?
He was ninety percent positive the woman he spotted in the airport was half the couple he’d seen entering Viggo’s place. His distant vantage point hadn’t provided him with much detail, but the navy puffy vest and the long dark ponytail tracked.
When the big guy joined her in the boarding line, he knew it was them.
