“Protect them now,” he said. “Fight later.”
They approached the ragged opening. As luck would have it there was no railing at this point. The blue Caribbean waited invitingly below where men were already swimming through the calm waters. The USS Lake Erie had launched Zodiac’s to rescue them.
Drake jumped, Kennedy and Ben the sole focus of his mind.
When the first explosion rocked the Blood King’s ship Hayden and Kinimaka fell against each other. Boudreau recovered quickest. He’d been expecting it. He leapt at them, snarling, showing no signs of wanting to escape.
His eyes came down to stare into Hayden’s, his nose touching her own. “You feel me?” He plunged the blade in the direction of her belly.
Hayden’s world caught fire. Her lips touched Boudreau’s in a grotesque parody of a kiss as she reeled forward in agony. But before Boudreau could twist the hilt and inflict more damage Kinimaka had rolled ungainly on top of him.
Boudreau wheezed as all the air left his body. The man was pinned, unable to move. Kinimaka took a few seconds to regain his equilibrium and then deliberately began to throttle him.
Hayden panted heavily. “Unconscious, Mano. Not dead.”
The big Hawaiian turned puppy-dog eyes on her. “Are you-”
“Yes. He may… may have information about Kovalenko’s next move,” she groaned.
“You gonna live, boss?”
“Probably. Blade glanced off my jacket and went through my thigh. Hurts like a mother, though.”
One of the Delta soldiers cried: “Zodiacs are outside. We need to evac! Now!”
Kinimaka scooped up Boudreau’s unconscious body with one arm and Hayden with the other. “Just point the damn way.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Drake ran as if there was a fire at his heels. Somewhere along the climb to the top of the ship he lost Mai, but that was part of the plan. The Japanese woman would now use her resources to disappear, and the two devices would never meet again.
Drake felt a tug of sorrow, knowing that Mai and he might also never meet again. Once a mission was over, its avant-garde participants rarely assembled again.
And he was no Nick Fury. Or Joss Whedon, for that matter.
Sunlight flooded his eyes as he breached the top deck and came out onto the big mass of concrete. He shielded his eyes. Alicia was by his side. Hayden and Kinimaka were below, the CIA agent having being taken immediately to the sick bay.
Ben didn’t even know his girlfriend was injured, but Drake wanted to be the first to assure him she was going to be alright.
He started towards the bow, but the area was deserted. “Could be anywhere, Drakey,” Alicia said. “Just because the boy said ‘meet me at the bow’ doesn’t mean he’ll be allowed to stay there.”
“Kid just wants to be DiCaprio for a minute, that’s all.” Drake was about to turn away when someone shouted above and behind him. He looked around to the next deck up, which began about half the length of the missile-cruiser.
There, standing at the rail was Ben Blake. There was blood on his hands, on his distraught face, and soaked through his shirt. Drake felt instant panic and a jolt of pure terror rocketed through his system.
“Kennedy!” He raced for the steps, leaping two, three at a time. “No!” He reached deck level and stopped.
Just stopped.
She was laid out on her back. A doctor stood next to her, head bowed. Half a dozen marines guarded her, but not from any further danger.
Kennedy Moore was dead.
Drake made it to her side before collapsing. At first he dared not touch her, but held his hands above her body, above her face.
Emotion took him like a storm, wracking his body, tearing into his soul.
“She saved my life,” Ben said, and Drake squeezed his eyes shut so tight his head began to throb.
The woman he loved lay dead in his arms. She would never feel again. Never breathe again. All her thoughts and experiences and memories laid waste and scattered to the ethos. Nothing she worried about or cared about mattered anymore.
She was gone.
The Blood King had struck a hard first blow with his vendetta.
Drake looked up, straight at the sun, unable to see through the glare and the tears. The first person his gaze found a minute later was the man who had betrayed them all to the Blood King.
Justin Harrison.
Drake felt the rage explode. He flew at the man, screaming, wringing his neck between hands that shook with pain and rage and grief.
People tried to tear him away. Marines battered him with rifles.
They were a blur. An insignificance, a buzzing fly. Every ounce of Drake’s hate poured into that stranglehold and nothing would tear him away.
Even minutes later, when Harrison lay almost dead and Ben’s mournful voice finally registered to his ears.
“The Blood King took Harrison’s daughter, Kate. He kidnapped her and made Harrison work for him. Oh, Matt.”
And at last, one of the marine’s blows caught him on the temple, sending him into a deep, crawling oblivion.
Drake collapsed to the deck and knew no more.