Page 12 of Viper

Fury hit Troy like a clap of thunder. He delivered another punch to the bastard’s face. Once . . . twice . . . three times.

Craig let out a guttural groan and curled into a ball.

Troy wiped the blood dripping from his nose and pushed into a standing position. He aimed his gun square at the top of Craig’s bent head. A deep quake shook his muscles. It wasn’t the result of fear. Or even adrenaline.

He shook for Paige.

For what she’d been through. For what more could have happened had he not shown up. Nausea pulled the insides of his stomach together with the force of a magnet. “Get up, you sonofabitch!” he bellowed.

Craig got to his knees, holding his arm awkwardly. In a flash, his hand shot out, jabbing a blade toward Troy’s abdomen.

Fire licked his flesh and he staggered back until his legs bumped the side of the boat. Grabbing his midsection, he glanced down at the blood coating his fingers.

Fuck.

Craig leaped to his feet and charged. His shoulder drove into Troy’s midsection, sending him careening overboard. Cold seawater rushed over his head. Icy pinpricks covered his skin.

He kicked to the surface, swiping the water from his eyes.

The barrel of Craig’s gun stared back at him. Before he had a chance to think, he dove deep. The sharp whizz of a bullet through the water was unmistakable.

Rage bolted through him. He moved his arms in a wide, sweeping motion, propelling himself under the yacht. The saltwater burned the gash on his abdomen, making him wince and release air through his nose. Placing his hand above his head, he felt for the edge of the boat and remerged on the other side.

He sucked in a greedy breath of air, keeping close to the boat. Indecision pulled him in opposite directions. He could get back on board and finish the fight. Kill this sonofabitch. Right now, Craig had an advantage. Troy couldn’t stay in the water all night. He either had to get on the boat or swim to shore.

“I know you’re there,” Craig’s sick, singsong voice taunted. “I’d wanted to save the chum for Paige. She didn’t like it too much.”

Chum? What the fuck is he talking about?

Treading water, he faced the stern and kept his body as low as he could. Craig appeared, his back to Troy. He pointed his gun at the man’s back just as he paced out of range.

“But, I can’t let good chum go to waste.” With that, Craig tossed the contents of a silver bucket into the water.

His heart skidded to a stop. Jesus Christ. Fish guts were in the goddamn ocean, and he had a gash seeping blood.

One glance around him showed only the vast black sea. And not only was he like live fucking bait in the water—so was Paige.

Muttering a curse, he shoved his gun in its holster and took several slow, deep breaths. Heat flamed his cheeks.

He never fucking lost. Never walked away from a fight.

But he also wasn’t an idiot.

Taking one more huge breath, he dove beneath the surface, pushing his feet off the boat to propel him toward shore. Toward Paige.

He swam underwater, once again sweeping his arms in wide motions. His fingers brushed something with slippery skin and his blood pressure shot through the roof. He kept going. Strings of seaweed caught in his hair and fish brushed against his arms but he didn’t stop.

Finally, he came up for a breath and started stroking his arms above the surface.

He’d see Craig again—and next time, that bastard would be the shark food.

Chapter Four

Paige’s chest and belly smarted from the pressure of the board. Her sopping-wet dress was becoming heavier and heavier by the second. Every breath was painful as she paddled her arms, ignoring the burning of her shoulders.

The shore was in view. Maybe two hundred meters.

Two hundred too far.