The Angels' Share (The Bourbon Kings #2) - J. R. Ward Page 0,8

put an arm over his eyes as he was blinded by the glare.

“He’s alive!”

The boat that pulled up beside him was a good thirty feet long and had a cabin, and its engines were cut as the stern swung around toward him.

He was pulled over thanks to a net grappler, and then he helped himself out of the river and onto the platform over the propellers. Flopping on his back, he looked up at the night. He couldn’t see the stars. The city’s glow was too bright. Or maybe his eyes were just too clouded.

A man’s face appeared in his vision. Gray beard. Shaggy hair. “We saw you jump. Good thing we was coming under—”

“Someone’s approaching from starboard.”

Lane knew without looking who it was. He just knew it. And sure enough, as the spotlight was manually spun in that direction, he saw his Lizzie in a flatboat coming at them, the flimsy, metal craft clapping against the water, her strong body crouched by the outboard motor, that high-pitched whine of the overworked little engine the perfect sound track to the panic on her face.

“Lane!”

“Lizzie!” He sat up and cupped his dripping hands to yell. “I’m all right! I made it!”

She pulled up like an expert right across the stern, and even though he was in wet clothes and cold to the bone, he jumped at her. Or maybe she jumped at him. It was probably the both of them.

He held her tight against him, and she held him back. And then she jerked away and punched him in the biceps so hard, she nearly knocked him back into the river.

“Ow!”

“What the hell were you doing up there—”

“I wasn’t—”

“Are you out of your mind—”

“I didn’t—”

“You almost killed yourself!”

“Lizzie, I—”

“I am so pissed off at you right now!”

The fishing boat was tipping back and forth as they stood with feet planted on the gunnels. And he was dimly aware that there were three fishermen popcorn-and-Coke’ing it on the larger vessel.

“I could just slap you!”

“Okay, if it’ll make you feel better—”

“It won’t!” Lizzie said. “Nothing is going to—I thought you were dead!”

As she began to cry, he cursed. “I’m sorry. I’m so sorry …”

He brought her back against him and held her tightly, stroking her spine and murmuring things he wasn’t going to remember even if the moment itself was unforgettable.

“I’m so sorry … I’m so sorry …”

Typical of Lizzie, it wasn’t long before she pulled herself together and looked up at him. “I really want to hit you again.”

Lane rubbed his biceps. “And I’d still deserve it.”

“Y’all okay?” one of the guys said as he tossed a faded towel that smelled like bait over. “Y’all need nine-one-one? Either one of you?”

“It was already called,” Lizzie answered.

And yup, sure enough, there were flashing red and blue lights up on the bridge now, as well as ones coming down to the river’s shore on the Indiana side, too.

Great, he thought as he wrapped himself up. Just frickin’ great.

“We’re going to be fine.” Lane put out his hand. “Thank you.”

The man with the gray beard shook what was offered. “I’m glad no one’s hurt. You know, people, they jump from there. Just last week, this guy, he jumped and kilt himself. They found him down on the far side of the falls. In a boathouse.”

Yes, that was my father, Lane thought.

“Really?” Lane lied. “There hasn’t been anything in the press.”

“It was my cousin’s boathouse. Guess the guy was important or something. They ain’t talking.”

“Well, that’s a shame. For the man’s family, whoever they are.”

“Thank you,” Lizzie said to the guys. “Thank you so much for getting him out.”

There was some conversation at that point, not that Lane paid much attention to it—other than them wanting him to keep the towel and him thanking them for it. And then he was lowering himself onto the bench in the middle and tucking everything he had into his torso to conserve body heat. Meanwhile, Lizzie restarted the outboard motor with a couple of powerful yanks and reversed them away, the sweet smell of gasoline and oil tinting the air and making him think of childhood summers. As they turned around, he glanced back at the bigger vessel.

And then laughed.

“What?” she asked.

“The boat’s name.” He pointed to the lettering on the stern. “Unbelievable.”

Aurora, was spelled out in gold lettering.

Yup, somehow, even when she wasn’t around, his momma was protecting him, saving him, supporting him.

“That is eerie,” Lizzie said as she hit the gas and they slapped their way back