Hooked (A Romance on the Edge Novel) (43 page)

“How do you need me, Sonya? For just tonight? What about tomorrow?” The day after that? Would she need him then?

“I’m trying to get through today. Can we let tonight be enough for now?”

He wanted to press for more. Had to literally bite back the words that might scare her off. “All right, we’ll make the most of tonight.”

She sighed into his arms and he realized that with everything she was dealing with, a promise to him for tomorrows she didn’t even know if she had, was too much to ask. It was up to him to make sure she had those tomorrows.

Then maybe she’d give them to him.

A piercing boom jolted Sonya and Garrett awake.

“What the hell was that?” Sonya asked, pushing hair away from her eyes. Garrett had already vaulted out of bed, one leg in his pants, before Sonya even sat up.

He finished buttoning his pants, and bare-chested, reached for the gun he’d tucked under his pillow. “Stay here.”

“Oh, I don’t think so.” She jumped out of bed and struggled into the Under Armour that Garrett had stripped from her only an hour or so before.

“Sonya, I don’t have time to argue with you.”

“Then don’t, because I’m not staying put.” He looked like he wanted to strangle her. Too bad. She wasn’t the type of woman who took orders.

She was the type who gave them.

Garrett crept up the ladder, his gun leading the way, with Sonya hot on his tail. Another whistling bang rocked the night. It sounded like she’d anchored her boat on the frontline of a war zone. Then realization dawned and she started to laugh with relief.

“What’s so funny?” Garrett asked as he climbed into the pilot house and helped her up the last rung of the ladder.

“Fireworks. Cranky and Crafty are celebrating the Fourth of July.”

“They’re a week late.” Garrett cautiously peered out the window, motioning for her to stay down below the level of the glass.

“Weather’s been bad.”

“I don’t like this.” Another explosion rumbled and flared, lighting up the black sky.

“That was close,” Sonya said, worrying her bottom lip.

“Each one’s sounded closer than the last.” He peered out through the window again. “How far away from shore do you think we are?”

“What time is it?”

The face of Garrett’s watch shone green as he checked the time. “Just after two.”

“High tide isn’t until three. I’d say we’re at least a couple hundred yards. Why?” She was afraid she already knew why.

“In case we have to make a swim for it.”

She choked out a laugh. “Are you crazy? We’re on a boat! We pull anchor, I fire up the engines and we’re out of here.”

“We might not have that kind of time.”

Then she heard what he obviously already had. The coughing of a skiff’s motor followed by another boom.

This one rattled what was left of her windows.

Garrett took another peek and quickly slunk down next to her. “Some bastard’s shooting bombs at us with a slingshot,” he grounded out. He grabbed the mic to the VHF and radioed the
Calypso
, filling them in on their situation and location.

All the words ran together in a buzz of static for Sonya.

“Come on.” He grabbed her hand and tried to haul her out of the pilot house. She pulled back, her feet planted like spruce trees.

“I’m not leaving my boat.” Her voice shook and her body followed suit.

The captain always went down with the boat.

“Sonya, I know you’re scared. But we don’t have time for this. He gets any closer and we’re in trouble.”

“W-what about your g-gun? You can shoot him.”

“I’m damn well going to try. You need to be ready in case we have to make a swim for it.”

She shook her head, until hair flew in her face from the force of it. “I can’t s-swim, Garrett. I can’t.”

“I’ll be with you. It’ll be okay.”

It didn’t matter. She couldn’t get in that water. If she did, she was dead.

Garrett pulled her from the pilot house and down the stairs, to kneel next to the rail of the boat. The skiff sounded like it was right alongside the
Double Dippin’.

“Kyra! I know you’re there with that bastard.”

“
Kyra
?” Garrett asked, a frown marring his forehead.

“My mother.” Sonya was just as puzzled as the look on Garrett’s face. “I think that’s Cranky. He’s confused me for my mom before when he’s drunk.”

“Why didn’t you tell me?”

“Didn’t think it was important.” She ignored the narrowed stare Garrett sent her.

“Last chance, Kyra,” Earl Harte yelled from the skiff as it motored around the side of the
Double Dippin’
where they were hunched down out of sight. “I won’t let you leave me for another man. Not again.”

Garrett motioned for her to stay down as he rose to peek over the side of the boat. He quickly knelt down and whispered in her ear. “I can’t get a bead on him. The skiff’s in the shadow of the hull. Can you talk to him? Draw him closer?”

She nodded, the movement jerky, and wet her lips. “Earl Harte? What the hell are you doing?”

“Don’t antagonize him,” Garrett growled.

“That’s how my mom always talked to him,” she whispered.

“Kyra? You bitch. What’d I tell you would happen if you chose him over me?”

Sonya shrugged her shoulders. He motioned for her to say something else to Earl, but she was at a loss.

“Y-you said I had another chance,” Sonya replied. “Tell me what you want me to do.”

Garrett squeezed her hand in approval. “Good, keep him talking. Hopefully it’ll buy us time until the
Calypso
arrives.”

If it kept her out of the water, she’d recite the constitution. Cranky hadn’t responded to the last question she’d asked, which had her worrying her bottom lip again. She was going to chew through it at this rate.

“Earl, tell me what you want me to do?”

“Why, Kyra?” His words slurred. “Why did ya have to do it?”

“Do what?”

“Make me hurt you,” he whined.

Hell, this was like déjà vu. This could be Aidan talking to her.

“You haven’t hurt me, Earl.” Not yet. “And you don’t have to. Just tell me what you want me to do?”

“I want you to die, Kyra. And this time, I want you stayin’ dead.”

A chill sank into her bones. Garrett’s hold on her tightened. He rose up again to look over the rail and this time aimed and fired off a shot. A cackling laugh followed, and then a homemade pipe bomb, fuse lit and smoking, whistled into the air, landing a few feet from them.

“
Shit!
” Garrett grabbed her. Before she could utter a protest, she went flying overboard into the black water as the bomb exploded aboard her boat.

C
HAPTER
T
HIRTY-
S
IX

Icy needles pierced Sonya’s skin as the ocean reached up and eagerly swallowed her. Down, down, down into the depths of hell, invisible talons dragged her to a waiting watery grave. She kicked and lashed. Everything inside her screamed. Water blinded her eyes. Filled her mouth and nose. Smothered, strangled, and squeezed the life out of her.

She broke the surface and choked in large breaths of air. Coughing up the bitter taste of saltwater, she blinked as it stung like acid in her eyes. She thrashed. The deep wrapped around her ankles and pulled at her feet. Water splashed, toying with her as she panicked. Then the killing clutches towed her under again.

There was a score to settle, Sonya knew. Finally understood. She’d cheated this unforgiving ocean before, but she knew she wouldn’t be able to again. Her number was being called, and damn it, there was no way she’d avoid answering this time.

Pain exploded in her chest, and her lungs flamed with the need for air.

This was it. Everything she’d feared since she was fifteen. She’d known she’d die this was—the way she’d been meant to all those years ago. She hadn’t been destined to live through the
Mystic’s
sinking.

Suddenly everything went still and through the murky water, Sonya saw her twin. Floating like an angel, peaceful, beautiful, but sporting that ornery look she always got on her face whenever Sonya did something Sasha didn’t like. Sonya reached a hand out for her, but Sasha shook her head, and she swore Sasha mouthed the word “fight.” Then she was alone in the freezing darkness. The pressure in her chest returned, burning for breath, the pain worse than anything she’d ever experienced. She struggled, kicked her legs, her arms striking up, angling down, as the motion of swimming returned to her like retained muscle memory.

Her head emerged into the night air and she gasped for breath. Her heart thumped like a drum solo, her breathing choppy as she attempted to gulp in as much air as her body could possible hold. She treaded water and took in her surroundings, while panic still shivered through her. Any minute now the water would reach for her again.

The
Double Dippin’
smoked but wasn’t aflame…and a crazed man’s voice cackled over the serene darkness of the night.

Garrett
.

Where was Garrett? Sonya whipped around, her eyes straining the blackness to find him. He wouldn’t have left her. He knew how scared of the water she was—

A body floated face down a few feet from her.

A prayer—a tortured sob—escaped as she swam toward him. Grabbing his arm, she turned him in the water, until his face floated up. Then he sank like an anchor taking her down with him.

Damned if she’d let this ocean steal another person she loved.

Hooking her arm around his neck, she kicked and heaved for the surface with everything she had, relieved to find they hadn’t been pulled under far. The cold of the water drained her strength, causing her teeth to chatter. She backstroked for the
Double Dippin’
, dragging Garrett with her, just as a shot ran out.

The bastard was shooting at her now?

Throwing a bomb on her boat wasn’t enough? What the hell had she ever done to piss off Cranky?

Once she was out of the water she was going to kill the fucking bastard.

She’d make sure he never hurt her or someone she loved again. Anger heated her muscles, and she made it to the stern, near the ladder. She grabbed the lowest rung with one hand, and rested, still holding Garrett’s head above water. How was she going to get him aboard if he didn’t wake up?

What if he never woke up?
Please God, she silently prayed.
Make him wake up.

Waves lulled against them, no longer threatening, more like cradling the both of them. As though pitying their useless efforts to stay alive. The evening seemed almost tranquil, hushed, as though pausing to watch. Garrett’s head rolled, something warm and sticky brushed her face, and he groaned. Sonya almost sobbed with relief.

Then she heard the engine of Earl’s sputtering skiff split the eerie stillness. The mocking serenity of the night bore a shocking similarity to that of a horror movie just before the characters were slaughtered.

Her heart pounded in tune to the theme of Jaws as Earl crept steadily closer.

“Kyrrra? Where are you, Kyrrra?” Earl’s sing-song voice sent more shivers coursing through Sonya’s body.

With no choice that she could see, Sonya let go of the ladder and swam them around the corner of the stern before Earl saw them. She knew she wouldn’t be able to keep them both afloat while Earl played a sick Marco Polo, taking pot shots at them around the
Double Dippin’
.

Swimming to shore was no longer an option. She didn’t have the strength to get both Garrett and herself there, and as soon as she left the protection of the
Double Dippin’,
she’d be in open water—easy pickings for Earl, damn-his-cranky-hide, Harte.