He staggered to his feet, following Brigid back onto the boat. “Here.” He pulled her down to the wide bench seat and rested the rifle on the back deck of the boat, putting the butt against her shoulder. He took her finger and placed it on the trigger. “Fire toward the beach.” She didn’t have to hit anything, but they’d slow down if there was return fire. “Make sure you stay down.” He tumbled over the front seat, searching for the key. No key. Damn it.

Running boots echoed across the stone walk. He kept low and scrambled for the jockey box, ripping it open and feeling around. Something cut his hand. A bobber had caught his finger, and he pulled out the key. Bullets pinged along the beach.

Brigid returned fire, yelling as she did so. That was fine. It wasn’t like the enemy had lost track of them. He glanced over his shoulder to see her spraying the beach and the stone walkway intermittently. She hit several trees as well.

He ducked and shoved the key in, hoping somebody had driven the boat lately and there weren’t tons of gas fumes trapped near the engine. He didn’t have time to use the blower. “Keep firing, Irish,” he bellowed, hoping they weren’t about to explode.

“I’m out of bullets. He didn’t have many.” Brigid crawled up next to him and started to rise. The boat drifted sideways toward the beach.

Bullets clacked into the wooden dock, close to the boat. He pushed her down, trying to protect her head. “Stay down there.” Then he twisted the key, and the twin engines roared to life.

More men, all armed, ran down the steps toward the dock. A man up above kept firing wildly, sending water spraying up. The moron would hit the engine at some point.

Keeping calm, shoving all emotion into another world, Raider pulled out the gear shift, shoved it back in, and bent the throttle forward. The boat jumped to life, and he pressed the throttle all the way down, roaring away from the dock with a spray of water. More bullets impacted all around them, and pain lashed into his hip. He dropped to the seat, turning the wheel and driving into the darkness.

Soon only the roar of the engines filled the night.

Brigid clamped both hands on the other leather seat and hauled herself upright. The wind whipped her hair around, but she turned and looked at the other homes along the point. “I can’t believe that worked,” she called, her voice sounding lost.

“Me either,” Raider said grimly, tugging his phone from his pocket and pressing speed dial. “Force? We’re on a boat heading for shore, and I’ve been shot. Have Wolfe pick us up at Devereux Beach. ASAP.”