48. Cole

CHAPTER 48

COLE

C ole watched from above as Bella took the long route to the Crosswind , out of sight if one of the assholes below happened to look up. They wouldn’t see her silhouetted against the sun.

When she reached the bow, she climbed up the anchor chain, hand over hand. The gun slung across her back must have weighed a few pounds, but she didn’t pause to take a rest or even a breath. Her upper body strength was unreal. Once on board, she moved silently along the gangway that hugged the side of the boat, slipped into the saloon, and disappeared.

It was almost anticlimactic. The only noise came from the waves lapping gently against the shore and birds singing in the trees above. Nothing to see, nothing to do.

It was a far cry from the chaos on Skeleton Cay. Almost relaxing in comparison, at least until a head broke the surface of the water at the Crosswind ’s stern. Fuck, was that Witt?

Cole’s heart hammered as the man loosened his fins and tossed them onto the swim platform, then climbed the ladder .

Had he run out of air already?

Forgotten something?

Decided he’d rather leave the hard work to the other two?

Or was he ready to start winching up the day’s haul of treasure?

He started toward the saloon, and when he paused at the door and glanced down, puzzled, Cole knew exactly what he was thinking: where did these wet footprints come from? Witt stepped to his left and looked along the gangway. When he saw nothing, he hurried to the helm, took Frankie’s gun out of its compartment, and headed into the saloon.

Oh, hell no.

Bella had told Cole to stay put, but nobody had anticipated a scenario where Witt returned to the Crosswind early. There was no way to call for help, and Bella was trapped below decks with a monster hunting her. Yes, she’d apparently been trained for this, but so had Witt.

Cole ran to the beach, dove into the water, and began swimming with fear nipping at his heels. When he reached the ladder, he might have just set an Olympic record, and those guys weren’t carrying a gun they didn’t know how to use. On the swim platform, he hefted the rifle in his hands the way he’d seen Bella do.

Then he yelled, “Why did you take my boat?”

Footsteps sounded inside, running in his direction, and Witt appeared, pistol in hand. When he saw Cole, he skidded to a halt, then nodded and advanced. Cole backed up until his ass hit the capping rail on top of the bulwark.

“How the hell did you get here?” Witt asked.

“I don’t owe you any answers. Put the gun down.”

Cole’s gun was bigger than Witt’s, and he’d seen firsthand the damage it could do. That had to count for something, right ?

Witt didn’t seem as worried as Cole had hoped. “You put yours down.”

“Why should I?”

“Because you’re not going to shoot me.”

“You think?”

“I know. You have the safety on.”

What? Cole glanced at the gun, looking for the safety, wherever that might be, and that was all Witt needed to close the gap and press the barrel of Frankie’s pistol to Cole’s left temple. Oh, shit.

Witt looked him in the eye. “You should have stayed on that island where you belonged.”

Somebody cleared their throat, and Witt whipped his head around. But his gun didn’t move.

“My safety isn’t on,” Bella said, and unlike Cole, she looked comfortable holding a weapon.

Witt just sniggered. “You brought your girlfriend with you? Bitch couldn’t hit a target if it was taped to the muzzle.”

“Don’t call her that,” Cole snapped.

Bella’s laugh was a little scary. “Bitch? You think that’s an insult? I take it as a compliment. Does this count as a Mexican standoff? Or do we have to be pointing the guns at each other? I forget.”

“Drop your gun,” Witt ordered. “Drop it, or I’ll shoot him.”

“Easy, easy,” Bella said, but her rifle didn’t move.

“Do I look un easy? Drop the damn gun.”

“If I drop it, you’ll shoot us anyway.”

“Not when you can help bring up the treasure. There’s a literal ton of gold down there, did you know that?”

“Huh?”

“Treasure!” The guy sounded crazy. “We’re rich. Well, not you two, but the rest of us. Where’s your dive kit?”

“Scattered on various islands throughout the Caribbean. You thought we’d schlep empty tanks around for three whole days?”

“Doesn’t matter; there’s spare kit in the lockers. Just put the gun on the deck.”

“You promise you won’t shoot us?”

Wait, Bella didn’t believe him, did she? Even if Witt kept them alive long enough to collect the gold, he’d kill them when he had no further use for their services.

“Yeah, I promise.”

Bella did the unthinkable. She crouched with the gun in her left hand and placed it on the deck. Had she lost her mind? Witt was vibrating with crazy energy—Cole could feel it through the pistol still pressed against his head—and the whacko had the morals of a great white shark. Did she realise what was going to happen? Witt was going to shoot both of them anyway; Cole knew it.

Bella started to rise.

Cole felt rather than saw Witt’s grin.

And he realised there was only one chance left. One chance for him to save Bella’s life.

He tipped backward over the deck rail, grabbing Witt’s wrist in a desperate grasp as he fell. The pistol fired harmlessly into the air once, twice, and the last thing Cole saw before he hit the water was Bella leaning over the side of the boat with a weird-looking pistol in her hand. What the hell? Where did she get that?

Cole sank deeper.

Deeper.

Witt wrapped an arm around Cole’s neck and legs around his waist, hitching a deadly piggyback ride as they headed into the abyss.

The water got colder as they fell through a thermocline. Darker.

Cole’s vision began to blur.

Blue turned to black .

This was the end, but at least Bella was safe. She’d live to fight another day, quite literally.

As Cole closed his eyes for the last time, a shadow shot out of the gloom.

He glimpsed a row of jagged teeth, and then he saw darkness.