Page 33 of Wild Tempest

I appreciated the confidence. With a woman like Tempest believing in you, a man might be able to do just about anything.

Muzzle flash flickered from the hatch, lighting up the darkness. The deafening clatter of gunfire echoed off the bulkhead. A bullet snapped through the air, whizzing past my ear. It hit one of the crates, splintering wood.

The three of us scampered for cover.

I angled my rifle around the crate and popped off a few shots toward the hatch. The zesty tang of gunpowder filled my nostrils. My heart thumped my chest.

21

“We’re here on a search and rescue mission!” I shouted, crouching behind a crate full of gold. “We’re here to help.”

"Fuck you!" the shooter shouted. "You're trying to steal my gold."

Tempest recognized the voice. "Dale, is that you?"

"Who the hell are you?"

"It's me, Tempest."

Dale hesitated for a long moment. "What are you doing here?"

"Looking for my father.”

Dale went silent. After a long beat, he said, "I think I need a little help here. You fucking shot me!"

I cringed.

"Don't shoot, Dale," Tempest shouted. "We're coming to help you.”

I shared a look with the two before inching out from behind the crate. With my rifle shouldered, I crept forward toward the hatch, then held up. I took a deep breath, then angled my rifle into the hallway and found Dale clutching a wound in his abdomen. He lay on the deck, leaning against the bulkhead. Blood oozed through his fingers. His chest rose and fell with deep inhalations.

I kept my weapon aimed at him as I approached. "Take your hand off the pistol.”

Dale's eyes glanced at me with suspicion, then he raised one hand in the air while keeping the other hand pressed against the bloody wound.

I inched forward and crept around him. I kicked his pistol away, and it slid across the deck. I lowered my weapon and knelt down beside him.

Dale had a weathered face, shaggy sandy-blond hair, and a few weeks worth of stubble at this point. In his late 40s or early 50s, he'd spent his life on boats, and it showed in his leathery skin.

"I thought you were pirates trying to steal my loot,” he said in a weak voice.

"Let me see the wound," I said.

Dale removed his hand and blood oozed. The bullet had penetrated his right flank and exited on the other side.

"Keep pressure on that.” I shouted to JD that the suspect was secure.

Jack and Tempest joined me in the hallway a moment later. Sorrow twisted Tempest’s face. She knelt down beside Dale and took his hand.

He smiled, his face softening from her beauty. "Anybody ever tell you, you look like an angel?"

Tempest smiled. "You're sweet, Dale.”

JD hustled up to the medical bay to find first-aid supplies.

"It's through and through," I said. "If we can control bleeding and keep that from getting infected, you should be okay. We just need to get you back to civilization."

Dale nodded.