The Killing Tide

by Dani Pettrey

  Queasiness rumbled in her gut.

  How would he react to her return?

  How would she react to him and her brother watching her like hawks? And, it really didn’t help to learn she wouldn’t have a car to drive. Her family and Noah’s CGIS team had made that decision. Noah insisted it was best that she be with one of them at all times, for her “safety.”

  While she appreciated their concern, she wasn’t an orchid needing constant attention. She was more like a tumbleweed—sturdy and made to roam.

  Noah’s cell rang, distracting her from her thoughts. “Hey, Finn.”

  She swallowed at the mention of his name.

  “Wait. What?” Noah’s jaw tensed in the rearview mirror. “We’ll be back as soon as possible and keep me updated. . . . Yeah . . . okay . . . be there soon.” Worry and fear flitted across his face as he hung up.

  “What’s wrong?” Rissi asked.

  “Finn found Will Seavers dead on Master Chief Petty Officer Fletcher’s boat. And Caleb and Sam found Fletcher beaten and unconscious in his boat’s outboard. They’re under fire from drug runners right now—Finn’s headed their way.”

  Rissi stuck the cherry on the dash and turned it on so other cars would see them as an approaching emergency vehicle and get out of their way.

  Noah floored it, and Rissi grabbed hold of the roll bar. “I’d hang on if I were you,” she said, looking back at Gabby.

  Nodding, she grabbed hold of the small bar fastened on the back of Rissi’s seat, thankful she had as they flew over a bump in the road, bouncing her several inches up from her seat.

  She bounced back down, but only momentarily before the next hit came. Her mind finally absorbing what Noah had said, she leaned forward. “Did you say Will Seavers?” She’d become fast friends with Seavers and his wife, Tess, over the winter. They were good friends with Finn and often came by for dinner, and he’d always invited her to join them. Soon she and Tess had a standing weekly coffee date at the Coffee Connection in town. Tess had become Gabby’s first close friendship after her fall from grace.

  “I’m afraid so.” Noah glanced at her in the rearview mirror, the spinning light casting a red hue across his skin.

  “But . . . Tess. She’s due with their first at the beginning of November.”

  Rissi shook her head, her long brown hair spiraling behind her in the wind. “That’s crushing,” she said, bouncing as Noah swerved around a car slowly puttering to the side of the narrow road.

  “Does Tess know yet?” she hollered over the whipping wind flapping the Jeep’s canvas roof.

  Noah shook his head. “I’m sure she doesn’t. Not yet. Finn will want to tell her in person.”

  As the impending rain finally let loose, Gabby prayed she could be there when Finn—poor guy—had to give Tess the devastating news that would forever alter her life.

  eleven

  Sea spray mixed with the rain washed over Finn’s face and soaked through his clothes as the guardsman guided the fast raft toward the melee, siren blaring. A handful of men in the drug runners’ boat were firing automatic weapons at Sam on Fletcher’s outboard raft, Caleb on the fast raft, and a Coast Guard craft.

  The Coast Guard boat was positioned between the raft Sam was in and the shooters, but the presumed drug runners kept shifting, engaging and not backing down despite the mounting Coast Guard presence—with howling sirens, flashing lights, and orders over the megaphone to desist their gunfire and surrender.

  Fletcher’s raft had already taken fire and was deflating before Finn’s eyes. Sam rose up over the edge to fire another round. The drug runners returned fire as they sped eastward, creating an opening between them and Fletcher’s boat. Panic sloshed in Finn’s gut at the open shot they now had.

  Shots pinged out of the machine gun in rapid fire, one hitting Sam in the chest, followed by another. He flailed back, crumpling into the deflating raft.

  “Noooo!” Caleb’s cry echoed Finn’s.

  He’d been shot. Twice.

  “Get me to that raft,” he instructed the guardsman driving his boat.

  The man nodded and raced forward.

  Caleb shot one of the drug runners, and an exchange of gunfire rained heavily as Finn reached Sam.

  The drug runners turned and fled. The Coast Guard boat followed, along with Caleb in the fast raft.

  Finn climbed into the raft to find Sam lying beside an unconscious Fletcher. Sam’s chest was doused in blood even though the falling rain was washing some of it away. He gasped, gurgling up blood as he struggled to take in air, his eyes wide with terror.

  “We need a helo now!” Finn shouted over the radio as Sam lay dying beside him. “It’s going to be all right,” he said, kneeling on the raft. He lifted Sam into his arms. “Help is on the way. Dean, we need you here now!” he hollered over the radio.

  “Two minutes out,” Dean said.

  “Send the basket down.” They could cut through the time it would take to lower Brooke to make the assessment on site. He’d already made it. Sam needed an emergency evac.

  “Hang on, Sam.”

  Sam tried to speak, but blood sputtered out of his mouth. Panic deepened in his darting eyes.

  “Help’s coming,” Finn said, not making any promises he couldn’t keep. He wanted to reassure Sam he was going to make it. He’d do everything in his power to save him, but it didn’t look good.

  The whir of Dean’s copter whooshed overhead, and soon the basket was lowered. Carefully, he lifted Sam inside, strapped him in as Sam’s eyes closed. “Hang on, friend,” Finn said, swirling his finger for Dean to retrieve his buddy whose life hung in the balance.

  “I’m coming along,” Finn said over the radio.

  Once Sam was in the copter, Fletcher was loaded on, and then Finn lifted by cable.

  Climbing into the copter, he tried to stay out of Brooke’s way as she tended to Sam. His blood pressure was dropping, his pupils unresponsive. She looked back to Finn and didn’t have to say a word. Her expression said it all. They were losing him.

  twelve

  Fletcher lay unconscious as Brooke began CPR on Sam. While performing compressions, she looked up at Finn. “Can you check Fletcher’s vitals?”

  He nodded and moved his attention to the MCPO on the copter’s floor next to Sam’s bloody body.

  Checking Fletcher’s vitals would give Finn a purpose he desperately needed, and something to do, as he felt completely incapable of helping Sam.

  Brooke continued CPR as she kept in contact with the trauma team waiting for Sam on the helicopter pad at Wilmington General.

  Finn took time to study Fletcher’s injuries—the bruising and swelling along his face . . .

  He scanned down his neck and slid Fletcher’s lime green short-sleeve shirt with bright pink flamingos to the side.

  . . . his shoulder and . . .

  He unbuttoned Fletcher’s shirt.

  . . . torso.

  All indicated Fletcher had been severely beaten—his jaw and right rib cage appeared to have taken the brunt of the blows, though his left eye was about swollen shut. At least his blood pressure was stable, his pupils weren’t overly dilated, and he responded to the small light Finn flashed across them. He read out Fletcher’s vitals to Brooke.

  “Thanks, Finn,” she whispered as she stopped compressions on Sam. She smiled wearily. “He’s back.”

  Gabby clasped her sweat-lathered palms together. Finn had gone to help Sam and Caleb, which meant he was in a gunfight. What if . . . ?

  The muffler roared as Noah depressed the gas pedal, the street signs flying by. As they approached Wilmington, the storm’s force increased, the sky growing ominously dark.

  Shutting her eyes, she took a deep breath, trying to steady her racing pulse.

  Please, Father, protect the men. Let them be okay.

  Let Finn be okay.

  What if she lost him?

  Lost him?

  He wasn’t hers to lose.

  A gust of rain
rushed across her, the wind’s wake flapping the soft-top roof. Her hair fluttering in her eyes, she fished a ponytail holder out of her bag and stuffed her hair into it.

  Rain pounded against the windshield and flew in streams past the open doorframe. She tapped her foot along the metal floorboard. Noah hadn’t wanted to waste time putting the doors back on when the rain started, and she didn’t blame him. They couldn’t get back fast enough.

  She glanced at the speedometer. Seventy-five.

  Normally a dangerous speed on rain-drenched roads with a storm-darkened sky, but she knew Noah wouldn’t slow down. Nor did she want him to.

  The opening riff of “Sweet Home Alabama” blasted in front of her. She jumped, her racing heart kicking up a notch.

  Noah answered. “Rowley. Yeah . . . okay . . .” His face paled. “ETA fifteen.” He flung his phone into the carryall cubby and released a shaky exhale.

  “What’s wrong?” Her chest tightened. What if . . . ? She swallowed hard.

  “Sam’s been shot.”

  Rissi took a sharp intake of air. “What? Is he going to be all right?”

  Noah glanced over at her. “Emmalyne was only passing along the information she got from Finn. He just said Caleb and a Coast Guard boat are chasing the drug runners, and he, Sam, and Fletcher are in the copter on the way to the hospital. Sam is in unstable condition.”

  “Unstable?” Rissi’s usually strong voice quavered.

  Noah swallowed, his Adam’s apple slipping down and back up. He nodded.

  Gabby bit her bottom lip, clasping and unclasping her hands. Please, Father.

  At least Finn was safe.

  Heat rushed to her cheeks, and she sat forward. How could she think that when Sam had been shot?

  Noah glanced back at her. “You okay?”

  She nodded. Just ashamed at the relief that had filled her knowing Finn was all right.

  Sam had been shot. Why should she feel anything but concern for him?

  Headlights shown through the rain, sweeping across her face.

  Headlights.

  She sat back, her muscles tightening.

  The Triumph’s headlight flashed through her mind. She blinked, the crack of bullets reverberating through her ears.

  She exhaled. That was last night. You’re okay now. You’re safe.

  She swallowed.

  For now . . .

  thirteen

  “ETA?” Brooke asked.

  “Two minutes,” Dean said, never once taking his eyes off the copter’s windshield as rain battered against it.

  “ETA two minutes,” she radioed in to the trauma nurse at Wilmington General. “GSW victim’s BP is dropping. He’s losing blood and hasn’t regained consciousness.” She looked up at Finn, heartbreak in her eyes.

  He swiped a hand through his wet hair, the reality of her dire expression settling in. Sam was in a battle for his life, and as of now, he was losing.

  As the copter hovered over the helipad atop the hospital, Finn looked to where the trauma team stood waiting. Dr. Krystyna Blotny gripped the edge of the gurney. While he wasn’t thankful for the circumstances, he was thankful to see Krystyna. She was the best doc on staff.

  A second team with Dr. Graham, also an awesome doc, at the helm stood behind the first team, ready to see to Fletcher.

  The copter settled on the pad, and Dr. Blotny’s team rushed forward for a hot landing. Ducking under the still-whirring rotor, they moved in unison to strap Sam onto the gurney and raced toward the hospital doors. Dr. Blotny assessed Sam, calling out orders. Finn hopped out and hurried behind Sam, squeezing through the doors before they closed on him.

  “Hang on, Sam.” Finn clutched his friend’s hand.

  Dr. Blotny looked back at him with determination fixed firm in her blue eyes. She’d fight with everything she had to save Sam.

  They wheeled Sam into the ER bay, and Krystyna rested her palm on Finn’s chest. “This is as far as you go.”

  He didn’t waste time arguing. It would only prevent her from tending to Sam. Instead, he stepped outside the glass doors as they slid shut.

  “Come on, Sam,” he whispered, cold perspiration dotting his brow.

  After what felt like the blink of an eye, the constant blare of the heart monitor registering no heartbeat sounded through the glass. Having battled fiercely to revive Sam, Blotny stepped back—her gloves covered with Sam’s blood, her eyes weary. She looked at the clock and after a brief moment said, “Time of death 11:37 a.m.”

  “No!” He punched the metal doorframe, ignoring the pain reverberating through his hand, the blood seeping from his cracked knuckles.

  Sam was gone.

  fourteen

  Gabby’s gaze locked on Finn standing in the hospital hallway, shock plastered on his handsome face. Movement whizzed past her in a blur of white, but she couldn’t take her eyes off him.

  He just stood there—his eyes etched with heartache. He’d lost two friends—Sam and Will. She longed to hug him but didn’t know . . .

  How was she supposed to act in front of him after how she’d left things? After she’d left him? After she hadn’t returned his call? Though he hadn’t left a message, his number had shown up on her cell. She knew it was him. And, while curious about what he had to say, she’d been a chicken, refusing to answer.

  Everything that had happened over their three months together flashed through her mind like a film reel scrolling through a projector.

  Her chest tightened, her hands weighted and numb.

  “Gabby.” His whisper pulled her from the silent whirlwind tossing through her mind.

  “Finn.” She bit her bottom lip, shifting her stance. “I’m . . . so sorry.” For more than she could voice.

  He stepped to her, engulfing her with a hug. He was still damp from all he’d been through, but somehow he felt so warm, smelled so good. . . . She just wanted to hide in his embrace, but he stepped back, lowering his arms to his sides.

  His left hand was bruised and bloodied.

  “Finn, your hand. You should have it looked at.”

  “I’m fine. There isn’t time.”

  “Are you sure?”

  “I’m positive.”

  They stood in silence until Gabby whispered, “I heard about Will. Does Tess know?”

  “I’m going to head to her house once Emmalyne brings me my car. I called her ten minutes ago.”

  “Do you mind if I go along?” Gabby asked.

  “Of course not. I’m sure Tess will need a friend, will need you.”

  “I’m sure she will,” Rissi said, stepping from the nurses’ station where she and Noah stood, “but you don’t need to go to her. Janice, the head RN, just informed me Tess is out in the lobby, and she’s asking about her husband.”

  Finn rubbed his brow. “All right.” He looked to Gabby. “You ready?”

  How could she be ready to destroy her friend’s dreams? Her seven-months-pregnant friend . . . How did she tell Tess she’d just lost her love?

  “Rissi and I will head out to tell Beth about Sam,” Noah said.

  Two husbands lost. Two lives crumbled.

  Please be with us as we tell them. Please spread your wings about them and wrap them in your shelter. You’re the only One who can comfort them in the midst of this wretched storm.

  Two men lost in the blink of an eye.

  Noah’s strong arms wrapped around her. “Be safe, kid.” He pressed a kiss to the top of her head.

  She swiped the moisture from her eyes. “I will.”

  He turned to Finn. “Take good care of her.”

  Finn nodded. “Always.”

  She swallowed. How could one word hold so much meaning?

  Noah’s cell rang, and his step hitched. “It’s Caleb,” he said, lifting his index finger, signaling for them to wait as he answered. “Rowley . . . We’re all here.” Noah’s jaw shifted, his gaze lowering. “No, he didn’t make it. . . . Yeah . . .” He listened for less than a minute and then said, �
��Okay. Rissi and I are heading to tell Beth. We’ll meet you back at the station.”

  Noah hung up and slipped his phone in his jeans pocket. “They caught the drug runners. The one who was shot is being transported to the morgue. Caleb arrested the remaining three, and they are on the way to the station for questioning.”

  Rissi raked a hand through her hair, tears welling in her large blue eyes. “At least Caleb got them.”

  Noah nodded. “We’ll head in to help interrogate them after we talk with Beth.” Noah exhaled. “Speaking of Beth, we better be going. Rumors are probably already stirring.”

  “Same with us and Tess,” Finn said. He looked to Gabby and held out his hand. “Ready?”

  The day she’d left him radiated through her mind. Him standing on his porch with hand extended, asking her to stay.

  And she’d walked away.

  Pain echoed through her chest, spreading up her throat. Similar to the pain from swallowing wrong—deep yet sharp.

  Struggling, she managed to draw in a shallow breath.

  Finn wrapped an arm around her shoulder, directing her toward the ER doors. “It’s going to be all right.”

  How could it be?

  He pressed the button for the automated door, and the double doors swung in, allowing them passage out.

  Tess turned as they stepped into the lobby, her eyes red and puffy, a bunched tissue clutched in her hand. “Is Will okay? I heard the Coast Guard found Dennis’s boat. Heard one of them was brought in by copter. . . .” She paused for a breath. “Just tell me,” she blurted, tears spilling from her brown eyes.

  Finn’s posture stiffened, his head tilting slowly. “I’m so sorry, Tess.”

  Tess shook her head, taking a couple steps back. “What are you saying . . . ?”

  “I’m so sorry,” Gabby added.

  “We’re having our boy in two months.” Tears rolled down Tess’s pink cheeks. “Eight weeks. He has to be here. He can’t be . . .”

  Gabby pulled her into her arms.

  Tess’s head rested in the crook of her neck, sobs bursting forth. “No!”

  Gabby fought the urge to say “shh, it’s okay,” because it wasn’t. And for Tess, it wouldn’t be for a long time—if ever. “I’m here,” she said instead.