Page 47 of Under the Radar
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Two men from the ship’s security team hoisted Mo onto the dock and hurried her toward the handicapped entrance. Mac spun around, expecting to fire at the oncoming speedboat, but quickly realized they hadn’t followed them into the waterway around the pier. In the distance, the powerboat fishtailed back to whatever hole they’d crawled out of on the opposite shore. Mac holstered his weapon, cut the engine on the jet ski, and tossed the keys to the waiting steward. “Would one of your crew please return this craft to Sand and Sky Rentals?” The steward nodded and offered his hand to Mac as he scrambled onto the cement pier.
Sonofabitch.
Mac glanced at the handicap entrance, and his security team gave him a thumbs-up. Mo was safely inside. He jogged the length of the ship toward the location where he’d meet Hugh to return the borrowed weapons. They met up on a grassy patch away from the crowd waiting in line to reenter the vessel.
Mac pointed at him. “What the hell was that? At least we know they’re after her for real, and it’s not just my fucking imagination. How did we miss it?
“I get it, mon. There wasn’t a peep today around our perimeter. Sylvia was up the entire time at the estate, and there was no aerial surveillance. It was quiet. Not a whisper of interest in the estate or the water. Whoever they are, they’ve got an edge on us. Is Maureen alright?”
Mac tore a hand through his hair. “She flew off the jet ski on a hairpin turn. You know what it’s like to bounce across the water at forty miles an hour? She’s conscious. I’ve got no idea if she’s hurt physically.” He braced his hands on his knees, heaved gulps of air, and tossed Mo’s purse on the grass. “I want to beat the living shit out of something right now.”
“Felix and I will find those mudderfucks when I get back. We’ll make the cockroaches disappear. Stand still, mon. Allow me to disarm you discreetly so we don’t draw attention to ourselves.” He circled behind Mac, and in one fluid motion, removed the gun from his holster and slipped it into his suit jacket. “Bend down, pretend to tie your shoe, and place the gun from your cargo pocket on the grass. I’ll pick it up in a minute.”
Mac cursed but complied. “Those bastards shot at us.” He set the gun on the ground, reached in his pocket and tossed the knife and brass knuckles next to the firearm. “They can’t aim worth a shit, but they fired first in case the authorities want to know. I fired back when Mo was in the water, and I hit one of them. He fell backward into the boat. You’ll check out the emergency rooms for any new gunshot wounds?”
Hugh grunted. “Yes. There’s only one reason everything would check out and then all hell break loose when we went into town. One of you is tagged, Mac.” He bent and stowed the remaining ammo in his inside pocket.
Mac nodded thoughtfully at the full implication of his friend’s words. “Yeah, you’re probably right.”
Hugh narrowed his eyes. “I know my crew and my equipment. I know I’m right.” He cracked his knuckles. “Maureen isn’t wearing the earrings. She needs to wear them, bro.”
Yeah, no shit.“My fault—I didn’t give them to her yet.”
Hugh took a few steps toward the sidewalk and turned around. “Are you sure she’s safe on the ship?”
Mac threw his hands in the air. “Hell, if I know. She’s been safe until now. I’ll check the manifest and make sure we haven’t boarded any new passengers while we’ve been here.” He grabbed Mo’s purse off the ground. “What if I can’t protect her? I did a really shitty job of it today.”
Hugh widened his stance and shoved his hands in his pockets. “I’ll be damned. I can’t believe it.”
Mac’s eyebrows shot upward. “Can’t believe what?”
Hugh pulled his sunglasses down a bit and looked over the rim. “You’re in love with her.”
Mac held out his hands. “Maybe I am. What difference does it make? I can’t seem to keep her safe.”
Hugh nodded slowly. “I’ve known you for a lot of years, mon. You have nerves made of rebar. Not once have you ever expressed a sense of vulnerability until Ethan, who you love like a brother, was hurt during that rescue in May. You got shook that your best friend was injured on your watch. And now, you wonder if you can protect Miss Maureen.”
“Maybe I’m losing my touch. Mo and I escaped those thugs today by a chin hair.”
“But you escaped. You and I both know that survival often relies on a fraction of a second. All I’m saying is that it didn’t bother you before. You’re second-guessing yourself only when it comes to the safety of people you love, people you’d die for.”
“What am I supposed to do? Run scared into the night?”
Hugh rubbed the scruff of his beard. “I’ve seen you mesmerize a beautiful female spy with a foxtrot and slap cuffs on her before the song ends. You’re no coward. But love is different—it’s messy and unpredictable, Mac. It takes more courage than even you have. And when you get back to Baltimore? Trust your team to help keep your Maureen safe. The Sanctuary group up there is top notch. Let them help you so you can make peace with the post-traumatic stress.”
Mac blew out a long breath. “Is that what you did?”
Hugh gave a deep grunt. “When I lost my family, I was stationed half a world away. I tried to drink myself to death first. Eventually, I accepted the fact that I couldn’t have protected them and blaming myself would kill me. I had to learn to trust again. First—myself. Then—others.” He took a few more steps and called over his shoulder. “Text me later and let me know where you found the tag and how Maureen is doing.”
“Will do.”
Hugh hollered his name one last time. “Hey, Mac?”
“What?”
“A purse isn’t a good look on you.”
Mac flipped him the bird.