Tattoo (Take It Off #7)(34)
Author: Cambria Hebert

After I took the rod back, I was contemplating recasting it when two black SUVs came around the curve in the road, following alongside the lakeshore. It wasn’t anything unusual, but the hairs on the back of my neck stood up anyway.

I stared at the vehicles, unable to see behind the windshield because of the glare on the glass from the sun. My body stiffened as a feeling of foreboding came over me.

“Brody?” Taylor asked, sensing the change in my demeanor.

I sat the fishing rod down inside the boat as the SUVs swerved to the side of the road and stopped at the bank, directly across from where the boat floated.

“Get down, Taylor,” I ordered, my voice urgent and low.

“Wh-what?” she said, her head swinging around to look at the men who were getting out of the cars.

One of them raised a pistol and pointed it right at me.

I surged to my feet, pushing her down into the bottom of the boat, and stood over her, turning toward the men.

“Brody,” she called, and I hated the fear in her voice.

“Don’t get up,” I said and reached behind me into the waistband of my jeans for the .45 caliber I was carrying.

But their guns were already out.

“Fucking pig!” one of them yelled, and bullets started flying.

The first couple shots slammed into the water, making innocent splashing sounds, and then the third and fourth bullet hit the side of the boat. One of them plowed straight through the side, and water started seeping into the bottom of the vessel.

Taylor screamed.

Goddamn, we were sitting ducks out here in the center of the water with no protection at all.

I fired back and the men dove behind the SUVs, but I wasn’t stupid enough to think those couple bullets would chase them away. Even as I thought it, one of the guys, wearing baggy jeans and a baseball hat pulled low, rose up from behind the hood to take aim at me once more.

I squeezed off a shot. My aim was true and the windshield he was standing by shattered instantly. He yelled a few curses and dove back down, taking cover from the raining glass.

I was a good shot, but there were three of them and only one of me. And they had cover, where I did not.

I didn’t have any choice. It was a bullet or the water.

Just as the guys took aim again, I knocked the boat over, pitching us into the dark, cool lake.

16

Taylor

The water wasn’t necessarily freezing cold, but it was a shock against my sun-heated skin. Everything happened so fast I barely had time to register what was going on, and then the all-too-familiar sounds of gunshots radiated through the air and literally paralyzed my limbs with fear.

Before I could do little more than scream, the boat was rocking violently and then Brody was flinging himself over me and launching into the water. But he didn’t leave me alone. He turned the boat as he went so I was dumped right into the current.

The force of the movement pushed my body beneath the surface even as my arms and legs struggled to swim. I only had use of one arm because the life jacket and sling pinned the other one to my side.

My clothes were saturated instantly, the cool water soaking into my entire body. I blinked my eyes, too shocked to close them, and all I could see was the color brown. Dark, dirty water claimed me, and I blinked, trying to see anything else.

Panic seized my chest, robbing it of breath and creating this panicked explosive feeling in my lungs. Before I could start to worry I would drown, the lifejacket Brody insisted I wear did its job and pulled my body to the surface.

I gasped when my head cleared the water and used my only available arm to tread water. “Brody!” I screamed, blinking the water out of my eyes and searching for him.

More bullets rained through the air and cut through the water like a hot knife through butter. I shrieked and looked at the three men on shore who were firing at us openly, not even trying to hide the fact they were trying to commit murder.

I looked around, frantic for help. The man and young boy up on the pier were watching the unfolding scene. “Call 9-1-1!” I screamed as loud as I could.

Another bullet hit the water right beside me, and I dove away.

But I didn’t go under. The jacket kept me afloat, and for once I wished it didn’t work so well. I made a better target when those people with the guns could see me.

Something clamped around my ankle and I screamed, jerking away, trying to swim frantically and failing miserably. One-armed swimming was not something I excelled at.

Whatever was down there refused to let go, and then I was forced roughly beneath the surface. The life jacket fought against the weight, trying to tug me back up, but it was no use. Whatever had a hold of me was no match for the flotation device.

I felt my bandaged arm rub against the inside of the jacket and I winced because it hurt.

I was pulled farther down, my arm waving back and forth as I fought. Whatever it was towed me forward and then let go. I surfaced once more with a deep gasp; my lungs were burning from lack of oxygen.

I blinked the water out of my eyes and tried to locate the shooters, but all I saw was darkness.

I spun around, trying to figure out what was going on and where the sun went when an arm wrapped around my waist and another head broke the surface.

“Easy,” Brody said, his voice a mere whisper.

I sobbed his name, not because I was scared, but because I was so relieved to see him. I flung my arm around his neck and latched onto him, like a sock with a bad case of static cling.

His arm closed around me and we both slid under the water just a little more from lack of paddling. “Tread the water,” he said, releasing me. “We need to stay under the boat. It’s the only protection we have.”

Of course! I should have realized. Brody grabbed me from beneath the water and towed me under the capsized boat. It shielded us from criminal eyes and held a small pocket of air to allow us to breathe.

“Are you shot?” Brody asked, his voice hushed and insistent.

“No. Are you?”

“No.”

“What’s happening?” I asked. “Who are those guys?”

“Snake’s been a busy guy,” Brody murmured, lifting his gun out of the water and shaking it, trying to drain out all the moisture. “Seems he’s ratted my identity out to everyone in the organization.”

“You mean those are gang members who know you’re a cop and want to kill you for it?”

“Did you hear them call me a pig?” Brody asked, trying to tread water and keep the gun from getting any wetter.

“It all happened so fast,” I said, pushing heavy, wet strands of hair out of my face.