“Find us a drop-off, Capitán,” Rixey called over a sudden gust of wind. The boat came around, causing Nick to slide on his knees. Beck grabbed his arm until he regained his balance. Rixey gave him a nod, digging how slowly but surely the team was coming back into itself.
The coordinated response to the unexpected development of Tyrell’s buddies showing up was a perfect example. From their appearance until Nick had this shithead on the ground was about ninety seconds. About forty-five seconds too long for him, given what had happened to Becca. But it was almost like the team had picked up where it had left off. Except for their six missing brothers. That shit could never be made right.
“ETA five minutes,” Miguel called. Hanging onto the railing, Becca made her way back to her seat.
“Roger that.” Soon the roar of the engines dulled and the boat slowed, allowing the waves to rock the boat more than they had at higher knots. Nick stood, saw where they were, and grinned under the mask. Priceless. A man-made hexagonal island in the middle of the bay, not far from the mouth of the harbor. He gave a thumbs-up. “Masks in the rear,” he called.
Easy slipped his on in one smooth motion, while Miguel fumbled with his for a minute.
When they were all secure except for Becca—whose appearance the banger unfortunately already knew—Rixey hauled him off the floor with the guys’ help. “Okay, Tyrell. We’ll get you as close as we can, and you can attempt to jump to dry land. Worst-case scenario, you get a little wet, but you’ll survive. Ride’s over.”
“What? You can’t leave me out here.” His expression was almost cartoonlike with disbelief.
“I can do anything I want.” Nick shoved him to starboard.
Miguel guided the boat in close to the wall, but he had to stay about three feet off to keep from getting pushed into it by the waves.
“Off you go,” Rixey said, regret that he couldn’t rid the world of scum like this once and for all feeling like a rock in his stomach. But even though they no longer wore the uniform, they couldn’t go total vigilante without risking the loss of a vital part of themselves—the guiding principle of doing the right thing. In this situation, the right thing just happened to require some questionable means. He didn’t relish that fact, but there it was.
Tyrell stepped up onto the boat’s wide ledge. “Fuck,” he yelled, and jumped.
Miguel didn’t need to be told to gun it. He got underway again before any other boaters happened by.
“I’ll fucking kill you!” Tyrell roared from the retaining wall of the small island.
Nick laughed and waved a hand. And then they were hauling ass back to shore.
“What say I call the harbormaster and let them know Becca’s attacker’s waiting out at Fort Carroll Light?” Miguel asked.
“Roger that,” Nick said, tugging off his mask. Everyone followed suit. Nick squeezed by Beckett, slipped down the side of the cockpit, and stepped in front of Becca’s tall chair. Hair windblown, cheeks flush, eyes wide, she was so fucking beautiful it hurt.
Those baby blues glassed over and she threw her arms around his neck. “I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m sorry about this morning.”
Aw, shit. Relief nearly took him to his knees. His arms came around her. “Sshh, sunshine. You don’t owe me an apology. If anything, I’m the one who should be saying I’m sorry.”
She shook her head against his neck. “I believe you. I hate it. I hate that this is the truth of my father. I hate what happened to you. But I believe you. And I know you couldn’t tell me. I understand.” She trembled against him.
He pulled back and gripped her face. That she’d come to him with belief and understanding heated parts of his soul he thought might never again be warm. “We’re okay? Can you forgive me?”
Eyes wet and uncertain, she said, “Yes. Can you forgive me, too?”
“It’s not even a thing.” He kissed her. Right there in front of everyone. Guys hadn’t missed a fucking thing anyway. They already knew Rixey was way the hell into her. And making things right with Becca was more important than whatever *-whipped comments this might earn him later. “You okay?” he asked, bending to look at her throat. For a moment, his gaze went hazy. The skin was scratched and red.
“It’s sore, but it’s okay.” She patted his chest, a silent request for him to step back, and then she slipped off her stool. “I need to do something.”
“Okay,” he said, not sure what . . .
She made the few steps to the stern, where Easy sat on the back corner, and said something Nick couldn’t hear over the wind. And then she hugged him. Easy’s arms came around her slowly but hugged her back. And then they were nodding to each other.
Nick had no clue what she was doing. She squeezed his hand as she passed him, heading to the bow. And she repeated the same action with Marz, who wore a big goofy grin afterward. With Shane, who was visibly moved, and finally with Beckett, whom Nick’d never seen hug another person before in his life.