Devil and the Deep (The Ceruleans Book 4) - Julie Ann Walker Page 0,102
mercenaries. Before he could say more, the sound of metal clinking against metal reached his ears. Mason heard it too. They flipped onto their backs in time to see two guys in hooded wet suits pulling themselves aboard the cutter, weapons in hand.
“What the fuck?” Mason asked.
It’s another one of tonight’s running themes.
Normally Bran wasn’t the type to shoot first and ask questions later. But he’d seen too much over the last few hours, heard too much, to think these cazzos were up to anything good.
“Light ’em up,” he snarled before laying on his trigger.
* * *
1:13 a.m.…
The crack and pop of gunfire sounded from above, and a piece of dry ice slid from the nape of Maddy’s neck all the way down her spine to the top of her tailbone. Or at least it felt like one did. Every inch of her skin prickled, and her heart froze into a useless chunk.
I can’t believe this is happenin’ again! Her sense of déjà vu from three months ago was only slightly keener than her sense of astonishment. Another false Mayday? It’s like a flippin’ epidemic! Do bad guys get together to go over tactics, or what?
“Wh-what’s happening?” Louisa called out in the semi-dark room. Maddy and Alex had tiptoed inside, hoping not to disturb the girls. Hoping there’d be no reason to disturb them.
So much for that, Maddy thought, flipping on the lights, scared and angry and incredulous and…scared. Sally Mae and Donna came awake with gasps and confused mutterings, blinking against the sudden glare.
“What’s happening, Miss Maddy?” Louisa asked again, pulling the plain gray coverlet up to her chin and looking no older than half a minute with her hair all mussed and her dark eyes taking up her whole face.
Maddy firmed her shoulders and tightened her grip on the machine gun. As calmly as she could, she said, “Girls, I need y’all to get out of those bunks and pull off the mattresses. Huddle up against that back wall and tip the mattresses in front of you so they create a barrier.”
“Are they back?” Sally Mae asked, horror and disbelief filling her big, blue eyes. Maddy was reminded of the movie Poltergeist and little Carol Anne turning away from the television to utter creepily, They’re heeeere. Another piece of dry ice formed and slid down her spine.
“I can’t say for sure,” Maddy told her. “But I think so, sweetheart. Now hurry. Do as I say.”
Boom! Boom! Boom!
Another volley of shots echoed from above. With soft squeals, the girls scrambled from the bunks to do her bidding.
They don’t deserve this. They don’t deserve any of—
She didn’t finish her thought before a man burst into the room like he’d been blown there from an explosion outside. Maddy spun and aimed. She cried out when she saw Rick standing in the doorway.
“For Chrissakes!” Alex yelled, lowering her weapon and lifting a shaky hand to her mouth. “I almost—” She stopped and swallowed, breathing heavily. “I almost shot you.”
“You’re not the only one,” Maddy assured her, her own hands quaking so hard that the metal clip on the rifle’s strap rattled.
“What’s happening?” Rick asked, his face so white he almost looked dead.
Dead… Right. Which begs the question, who’s dead on deck? Who’s shootin’ and who’s been shot?
Maddy refused to contemplate the answers. “No clue,” she told him before turning back to the teenagers. “Hurry, girls. The mattresses.” Then back to Rick, “There are more rifles on the table in the galley. Go get one and come back here to help us guard the girls.”
“O-okay.” Rick turned and ran from the room, muttering either an expletive or a prayer under his breath. She wasn’t sure which.
“And be sure to knock next time so we know it’s you!” Alex yelled before the door slammed shut with a loud bang that had everyone in the room jumping. To herself Alex said, “It’s crazy to think about the fact that a bullet travels twenty-five-hundred feet per second. That’s something like seventeen hundred miles per hour, faster than the speed of sound. So if I shoot him the next time he comes in the door, he’ll probably be dead before I even hear the shot.”
She looked around the room, her face chalk white. “Sorry,” she said. “I tend to spout facts when I’m stressed unless…there’s something else I can fill my mouth with. Does anyone have any food? No?” She rolled in her lips and turned back toward the door.