“Of course. I haven’t been able to do—”
A loud snarl of an engine cut me off, ripping through the air. Over the small rise behind the dock, a black truck appeared, charging toward the shoreline. I thought I recognized the vehicle, and Michael’s groan confirmed the identity of the driver.
“Sully. Perfect.” He clapped his hand against the side of the Land Rover. “I’d better go try and stop him from doing anything stupid,” Michael said. He didn’t sound too convinced that he’d be successful in his task, though. “I’ll see you later, Ophelia.”
From the sounds of it, he expected me to drive off and take the children home, but I didn’t. I watched as Sully’s truck careened down the slope and skidded to a halt, kicking a spray of sand and tiny pebbles into the air as the tires bit into the beach. He climbed out of the vehicle before it had fully stopped, hair wild, eyes wild, everything about him wild as he stalked toward the ambulance that was still parked on the pier. He broke into a run.
“Oh, shit.” Michael took off after him, running flat out, trying to cut Sully off, but it didn’t look like he was going to make it. I got out of the car, closing and locking it up behind me, thankful both the children were out cold, and I followed suit, racing toward the pier. Sully reached the ambulance a clear eight seconds before Michael, and he ripped open the driver’s door and pulled the guy who had been on his phone earlier out onto the wooden decking in a heap. I could hear Sully yelling long before I reached them.
“Fucking asshole! You’re meant to call me. You’re meant to fucking—” He stopped shouting to smash his fist into the guy’s face. The guy, crumpled in a heap on the floor, didn’t stand a chance. Sully landed three more catastrophic blows to his face with one hand, grasping hold of ambulance guy’s shirt in the other. The guy went limp, just as Michael barreled into Sully, taking him to the ground.
“Get off me, Michael. Get. The. Fuck. Off. Me.” Sully rolled underneath him, wrapping an arm around Michael’s throat, wrapping his legs around his waist and locking them out at his ankles. He squeezed, and Michael, still doing his best to try and pin Sully down, began to turn purple.
“Jesus, Sully. Let him go!” I didn’t expect my voice to make an ounce of difference to the ex-soldier trying to choke out Michael on the pier, but the moment I shouted his name, Sully froze, his hold falling slack. On his back, panting, he stared up at me like my presence was a complete surprise. Shock was written all over his face. Michael disentangled himself from Sully’s arms and staggered to his feet, growling under his breath.
“You’re a fucking asshole, Fletcher,” he said, spitting onto the decking. “A real fucking asshole.”
“Yeah,” Sully agreed, still out of breath and still staring at me. “I know.” He rose quickly, brushing himself off. The ambulance guy he’d just knocked out wasn’t even stirring.
“Why the hell would you do that?” I snapped, pointing at him. “What do you mean, he was supposed to call you?”
“I’m voluntary coast guard,” he snarled. “I’m supposed to be out there, saving them.”
“You don’t have a boat, Sully. How can you be fucking voluntary coast guard without a goddamn boat?” Michael was still red in the face. He wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, scowling.
Sully just shook his head, glaring at the other man. He started striding off back toward his truck.
Michael seemed to take this as a bad sign. “You can’t be serious, Sully. You’re a fucking mad man. You cannot go out on that water with a goddamn Zodiac. It can’t handle the swell. You’ll drown right along with them if you try.”
“Then I’ll die out on the water with them, won’t I? At least I can say I did try.”
“You’re not in the army anymore, Fletcher. You don’t have a team of guys to pull this off. You heading out there isn’t noble or admirable. It’s reckless.”
“Go home, Michael.”
“Be reasonable, Sully.”
The people gathered on the dock hadn’t chased after Michael and Sully like I had; they’d remained rooted to the spot, watching the scene unfold with a mix of horror and intrigue on their faces. Now, amongst them, I saw Robert Linneman, a head taller than anyone else, his arm around a much shorter, much plumper woman who was standing at his side—his wife, presumably. Linneman broke free and headed for Sully’s truck, meeting him there.
“What do you intend to do, Mr. Fletcher?”
“I intend to go out there and get those guys out of the water. If you don’t like it, I suggest you get out of the way and let me do what I have to do.”
“On the contrary. I was wondering what I could do to help.”