Needing to get off the bow quickly, I dove, slid over the roof, then tumbled onto the sunbed. I grabbed the padded edges just as Ange hit the gas, gripping tight to keep from flying overboard as she punched the throttle.
The engines roared and the Baia rocked back as we accelerated through the water at full power. Ange turned us hard to the right just as our attacker decided to let loose. A storm of automatic gunfire rattled across the air. A few managed to pepper the transom as I crawled and took cover beside Ange, but her sharp turn and abrupt acceleration threw off his aim.
Tossing the spotlight aside, I grabbed my Sig and popped up to retaliate. I fired off three rounds at the boat, striking the pontoons twice and sparking the final bullet off the front of the console, nearly hitting the guy with the rifle.
He let go of the trigger and dropped down for cover. I shifted for a better position, putting the pontoon boat’s pilot right in my sights.
“Port bow!” Ange yelled out.
I glanced over my left shoulder and saw the aluminum utility boat. The man at its helm had gunned his engines as well and was turning straight for the Baia. Once on a collision course with us, he grabbed a handgun and aimed at us through the cabin’s cracked-open port window.
I shifted my aim and fired off a barrage, shattering the glass and sparking off the metal hull. He dropped down but kept his boat flying through the water, tearing straight toward us. With the pontoon boat coming up from behind and the utility boat about to put a new entryway below deck, we needed to make a bold move, and fast.
Even though the two enemy boats were souped-up, they were no match for the Baia. We could fly out into the dark Atlantic in a flash, leaving them in our bubbling wake. But I’d never been partial to running away. I prefer the facing your problems head-on, getting bloodied and battered, but dealing with the task at hand approach. And I wasn’t about to change my ways just because we’d been caught off guard by a few white supremacists.
With mere fractions of a second to make a decision, I got an idea.
“Let him get close!” I yelled to Ange over the roaring engines.
She’d started to turn away from the rapidly approaching utility boat but eased back upon hearing my words. I fired another round at the pontoon boat to keep the two guys on their toes, then holstered my Sig and stormed back up onto the bow.
Ange, realizing what I was about to do, yelled out, asking me what the hell I was thinking. But my mind was made as I balanced myself and sprang to the edge. Ange cut back on the throttles just as the metal utility boat was about to slam into our hull. Instead, it flew less than five feet in front of the bow.
I lunged onto the rail, then hurled my body through the air. Time slowed, my focus intensified, and tropical wind smacked my body. The boat’s cabin flew right by me, and I slammed onto the flat deck behind it. My momentum caused me to roll, and I nearly flew over the side but just managed to grab onto the port gunwale.
Ange continued on behind me, piloting the Baia northward as our boat headed east. I staggered to my feet just as the guy kicked open the cabin door. I jumped, grabbed hold of the roof, and swung my body into his. He let out a grunt and a burst of air as my heels smashed into his chest, causing him to drop his handgun and fly backward. His body sprawled against the helm and he twisted, abruptly turning us starboard, knocking my body against the bulkhead and nearly causing the boat to flip.
I gathered myself and engaged my opponent, who’d shaken off my kick and came at me. Pissed off and unwilling to relent an inch, I socked him hard in the throat, then bashed his head into the nearest window. The glass cracked, and the skinhead groaned before falling hard to the ground.
With my assailant motionless, I took control of the boat and punched the throttles. Ange was still flying north, and the pontoon boat was just over a hundred yards behind her as it cruised right past me. Ange was expanding the gap, but the big engines clamped to the pursuing craft made it move faster than any pontoon boat I’d ever seen before.
Holding on as the utility boat accelerated, I shoved open half of the windshield and fired off a few more rounds toward the pontoon boat. It served its purpose, getting their full attention in a hurry. It wasn’t long before I’d nearly matched their speed, pushing the small craft to its limits and bouncing over the water at nearly forty knots.
I was close enough to see that the guy holding the automatic rifle was the Jake character I’d met that morning. He took up position behind the backseat and transom, then yelled and aimed his rifle straight at me. I hit the deck as a series of rounds pelted the metal hull and shattered the windows.
My 9mm wasn’t cutting it. Every time I fired back, they were able to take cover and my rounds went wasted. And they were creeping farther and farther away from me with every passing second. With seven rounds left, I could go for the engines to slow them down. But as glass rained down upon me, I glanced at the deck and conjured up my second bold idea of the night.
Jake let off the trigger, and the sounds of engines and thrashing water again dominated the scene. After the never-ending barrage, I assumed he was reloading. This was it. My window of opportunity.
