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“Both of you then,” the guard concedes, stepping aside to allow us passage onto the boat.

I step forward with feigned reluctance, making a show of checking my watch and sighing dramatically. Alex follows, his presence at my back the only thing keeping my nerves steady. The boat rocks gently beneath our feet as we board, the sleek vessel lower in the water than it appeared from shore.

“How far are we going?” I demand as the guard gestures for us to sit on the leather bench that runs along one side of the boat.

“Not far," is all he says before nodding to his partner.

The engine roars to life, and we surge away from the dock. I grip the leather bench, while mentally mapping our positionrelative to shore. The dock shrinks rapidly behind us, and within minutes, the coastline disappears.

“Where exactly are we headed?” I demand, letting impatience edge into my voice.

“Just a little further," the driver calls over his shoulder.

Alex catches my eye, a microscopic head tilt directing my attention to the starboard side. A black speck appears on the horizon, growing larger by the second. Then another appears portside.

Fuck.

“I believe we've gone far enough,” I announce, rising to my feet with all the entitlement Charles Blackwood can muster. “I insist we complete this transaction immediately or return to shore."

“Sit down, Mr. Blackwood.”

“I will not,” I snap, channeling righteous indignation while subtly adjusting my stance for balance. “This is completely unprofessional. I demand to speak with your superior.”

The approaching vessels are close enough now to make out their shapes. Fuck. They’re twins to this boat and each likely carrying additional personnel. This was never about authentication. It was about isolation.

I look over at Alex, who gives me an almost imperceptible nod. Alex moves like lightning. One second he’s next to me, the next he’s on the move. The guard registers the movement a split second too late, already drawing his own weapon as Alex collides into him. His momentum throws him backwards while Alex disarms him.

“Down!” Alex shouts, and I drop instinctively as the first shot cracks through the air.

The guard jerks backward, red blooming across his pristine white shirt. The driver whirls, gun already drawn, but Alex isfaster—two shots in rapid succession, and the man crumples over the controls. His gun falling to the deck.

The boat lurches violently as the throttle engages, sending us careening across the choppy water. I scramble for purchase on the slick deck, my expensive shoes sliding uselessly as I lunge for the controls.

“Company!” I yell over the roaring engine, nodding toward the approaching vessels now closing in fast.

“Can you drive this thing?” he shouts, tossing me the weapon from the deck.

I shove the dead driver aside, taking the wheel with one hand while checking the magazine with the other. “I've driven worse!”

The sleek vessel responds to my touch, slicing through the water as I open the throttle fully. We surge forward, putting distance between us and the two boats chasing hard behind. The throttle jerks under my palm as gunfire erupts, bullets slicing past my ear and tearing into the control panel. Sparks fly as the dashboard explodes in a shower of plastic and metal, the GPS screen shattering inches from my fingers.

“Shit!” I duck lower, still gripping the wheel as the speedboat bucks violently across the chop. “Alex!”

He’s already returning fire, body twisted toward the stern, weapon steady despite the boat’s wild motion. The sharp crack of his gun cuts through the roar of the engine and the relentless slap of water against the hull.

"Keep driving!" he shouts, squeezing off three more rounds. I hear a distant cry and glance back to see one of the pursuing boats swerve sharply, its pilot clutching his shoulder.

Another volley of bullets rips through the air around us. One pings off the metal railing by my head, another tears through the leather seat where I'd been sitting just moments before. The control panel takes another hit, and suddenly the engine sputters, the RPMs dropping fast.

“We're losing power!” I yell, frantically trying to adjust the controls that are no longer responding. The speedometer begins to fall, our lead evaporating with every passing second. “They hit something vital.”

Alex slides down beside me, ejecting his spent magazine and slamming a fresh one home. “How long can you keep us moving?”

“Minutes, maybe.”

“Fuck!” he roars, he checks the magazine. “Running low on ammo.”

Another shot cracks through the air just as a bullet tears into my shoulder—white-hot agony detonating like a flashbang inside me. I bite back a scream, staggering as blood pours down my arm, soaking through my suit. The boat jerks and slows, the engine whining as water churns violently around us. Spray lashes my face, and the roar of our pursuers grows louder, closing in fast.