“…scared the crap out of…What is that?”
Not Pax’s voice.
Robert was a mere two feet from the flare gun, his right hand raised above his head, holding the pistol like a hammer. He heard the man step outside and approach the flare gun without any caution. Robert caught sight of the back of the guy’s head as the guy leaned down to pick up the gun.
With only a slight hesitation, Robert smashed the pistol’s butt into the back of the man’s skull. The guy dropped to the deck and didn’t move. Robert wasn’t sure if he’d killed the man or just knocked him out, but he wasn’t going to waste time checking. He grabbed the guy’s rifle and moved up to the cabin door, ready to fight any others who might come up to see what was going on.
But the door to the stairs was shut, and the only one present was Pax.
“Was wondering if you were just going to follow us all night,” Pax said.
Robert pulled the second gun from his waist. “Here.” He tossed it to Pax. “Are they all armed?”
“Saw four rifles. But I think only the main guy really knows how to use one.”
Noise on the stairs below them, then someone knocking loudly on the trapdoor. “Hey, what’s going on up there?”
“Can you turn this thing around?” Robert asked.
“I got it this far, didn’t I?”
More pounding. “Hey, Luke! Why’d you shoot that flare?”
Another voice yelled, “Open this damn door!”
Pax started turning the wheel.
“What’s going on up there? Stop turning! Stop right now!”
“I’ll be back,” Robert said. “You be okay?”
“I should be asking you that,” Pax said.
Robert knew that at any moment the others would come running up the side stairways. He figured his best position would be to get to the rear of the boat before they showed up.
The pounding on the pilothouse door lasted a few more seconds and then there was silence from below.
Robert reached the stern as one of the guys peeked onto the top deck from the stairway and raised his rifle, aiming it at the pilothouse. Robert let off a shot in the man’s direction. It flew high, but was enough to make the guy duck out of the way.
“Jacob!” The voice was almost directly below Robert. “There’s another boat back here!”
Robert heard someone running below him.
“Son of a bitch!” a second man — must’ve been Jacob — said. “Gotta be his asshole friend.”
“How the hell did he—”
“Shhh.”
Robert leaned down to the very edge of the deck, listening. Whispered voices, too low for him to pick up more than a word or two, were followed by the soft padding of feet and creak of the deck. Had they both walked off, or only one?
No way to know. The only thing he was sure of was that the fate of the one hundred and twenty-eight survivors on Isabella Island were in his hands, so he and Pax would either wind up in control of the boat, or he would die trying to make that happen.
Another set of feet slinking away. One of them had stayed behind, but he was gone now.
Robert quietly lowered himself over the side.
If not for the stars, it would have been impossible to see the coast. Even then, Pax needed to consult the compass to make sure he hadn’t overshot the turn and put them on a crash course for the beach. Once he was sure they were headed in the right direction, he straightened the wheel and used the bungee cord system the boat’s former captain had created to hold it in place.
The moment he stepped out onto the top deck, a rifle cracked and a bullet slammed through the pilothouse floor, a few inches from where he’d been standing.
“You must have missed,” one of the men whispered from the other side of the toilets.
Robert wasn’t sure what they were shooting at. He was only glad it wasn’t him.
Bang-bang! Two shots, one on top of the other.
“Dammit!”
Robert sneaked a look around the right side but could see no one. Taking slow steps to prevent the boards from revealing his presence, he slipped past the bathroom door and approached the front corner. As he neared, the back of a man came into view. Robert eased to a stop and put both hands on his gun. When the rifle fired again, he swung out from his hiding place, his gun in front of him. He could see both men now, the one farthest from him aiming a rifle at the roof.
“Drop ’em!” Robert yelled.
The nearest man whirled around and dropped his rifle to the ground the instant he saw Robert’s pistol. The other one — most likely Jacob — started to aim his rifle at Robert.
Robert pulled his trigger.
He’d been aiming for the man’s shoulder, but the bullet caught the guy under the jaw and exited by the ear. The man grabbed his face as he dropped to the ground, moaning.
“Oh, my God! Oh, my God!” the other guy said. “You shot him! Why did you shoot him?” He dropped down next to his buddy. “Jacob, hold on. Hold on. You’ll be okay.” He looked at Robert again. “You fucking shot him!”
Robert knew that, knew it to the very core of his soul, but he also knew he would have done it again. “So he wasn’t trying to kill my friend?”
The man turned away. “We’re just trying to get home, man. We’re just trying to get home.” He put his hands on Jacob’s wounds in an attempt to stop the bleeding, but blood continued to gush. “Oh, God.”
Robert took a couple steps closer. “Use your shirt.”
He wasn’t sure if it would help, but at least it would give the hysterical man something to do. The guy pulled his shirt off over his head and pressed it to Jacob’s face.
Robert was about to call up to see if Pax was all right when he heard a loud groan of wood behind him. He turned to see a girl, who couldn’t have been more than twenty-five, nearing the top of the steps, a rifle pressed against her shoulder.
When he heard the shot, he flinched, expecting to be hit, but her bullet apparently went wide.
No, he realized as his eyes refocused. It hadn’t gone wide because the shot hadn’t come from her rifle at all. She was the one hit, the bullet piercing her chest and sending her tumbling back down the stairs.
Robert looked over his shoulder and saw Pax at the other end of the bow, holding his pistol.
“Don’t shoot!” a voice called from below. “I don’t want any trouble.”
A woman, about twenty years older than the girl, appeared near the bottom of the stairs, her hands raised. She looked at the body, then up at Robert.
“I…I…I’m not part of this,” she stammered. “I never…never wanted them to do this.”
“Come on up, Kat,” Pax said as he walked over to Jacob and the other man.
The woman gingerly stepped over the dead girl and hurried up the steps, her hands still high. When she reached the top, she jerked to a halt at the sight of Jacob, but quickly recovered and said, “His own damn fault.”
Pax put a finger against the uninjured side of Jacob’s neck. After a moment, he looked at the other man. “You can let go now, Aiden. He’s done.”
The adrenaline rushing through Robert’s system finally crashed. That and the knowledge of what he’d done sent him running to the railing just in time to vomit over the side.
Pax and Aiden dumped Jacob into the ocean, and then with Robert’s help did the same with Avery, the young woman. Luke they left on the top deck with a nasty bump on the back of his head and his hands and feet tied to the railing. They would deal with him when and if he regained consciousness.
Pax knew they wouldn’t have any trouble with Kat. She’d only been along for the ride, glomming on to the only survivors she had found. Aiden wouldn’t be a problem, either. He was a follower, and with Jacob gone, he might complain a little but he’d do as he was told.