The sharp edges of the sea grass fronds cut at her skin as Michaela ran inside the thicket with her heart pounding in her ears.  Barely able to breathe, she crouched down and sucked in air.

God, why did she have to care if he was behind her or not?  Because, stronzo or not, it’s not right to leave him behind when he is only in danger because he was trying to help you. 

“Shut up, Nonna,” Mickie mumbled.  Sucking in a final deep breath, she turned and duck-walked back to the edge of the grass and spread it to peer at the beach. 

Air pistol in hand, she watched Grayson run back toward the car.  He made it around the front of the car just as the SUV stopped beside it.  That small car would offer him no protection, and neither would his toy pistol, so unless she could find some way to bail him out, she knew the odds of him surviving were extremely low.

Unzipping her purse, she frantically searched through it for anything she might be able to use to help him.  Tissues, a leash, a nail file.  She tucked the file and leash into the waistband of her yoga pants and kept digging.

Pepper spray!  She found the small black atomizer and shoved it into her waistband too.  Going back in, she added a purse-sized can of hairspray and a lighter to her arsenal, then left her purse to dart to the front of the grass again. She spread it to peer out, just in time to see Gray duck back behind the car as the windshield on the SUV exploded.

A dark head ducked down, the passenger door opened and legs in black slacks appeared. Mickie knew if she went out this way, the men in the SUV would definitely see her, so she ran through the thick grass to the far back edge and stopped there to catch her breath. 

If she ran along the back edge of the beach, there was a chance he wouldn’t see her—or shoot her.  She sprinted out, a shot rang out and she flinched as she heard more glass explode.  Glancing, she saw the windshield of the car shatter and Grayson’s head pop up as he fired a BB toward the SUV.  He was holding his own, and keeping the man in the SUV pinned down on the passenger side of the car—with an air gun.

Mickie ran as hard as she could, because she knew that wouldn’t last long.  That man was likely a trained killer so he’d find a way to get into position to shoot Gray.  She also had no idea if he was alone.  The dark window tint on the vehicle made it impossible to know. 

Another shot rang out and she flinched as she dove behind a small drift of sand, eating a good bit of the grit in the process.  Her heart pounded as she watched the man creep toward the back of the SUV.  He was going to sneak up on Grayson from behind, she thought.  Well, Mickie was going to sneak up behind him, because obviously he hadn’t noticed her, thank goodness. 

Heaving a breath, Mickie pushed up again and ran for a palmetto bush, which was beyond the two vehicles.  That would put her where she needed to be to surprise that guy.  She slid to her knees behind the bush, then spread the fronds to assess the situation. 

The dark-suited man was in a crouch at the rear end of the SUV, focused only on the car.  He stood a little taller, waited, then darted to the back end of the car.

Now or never, Mickie. 

Heaving a breath, she shot out from behind the bush and sprinted across the beach toward the SUV.  Sweat poured down her face and stung her eyes, her leg muscles burned like they would sear through her skin, and her heart felt as if it would burst from her chest at any minute, but Mickie didn’t stop.  Gray’s life depended on her at least distracting this guy so he could help her subdue him.  She had no idea if Gray even knew the guy was sneaking up on him.

She pulled her canister of pepper spray from her waistband, flicked off the safety and put her thumb on the button as she reached the SUV.  The man’s back was to her behind the car, which worked out just fine.  She stopped, fisted the canister tighter and her arm shook violently. Thank goodness she didn’t need perfect aim to hit him.

“Hey, stronzo!” she shouted. 

The man spun, Mickie mashed the button, and a stream of spray shot from the nozzle.  A gust of wind brought some of the fiery liquid back on her as she dove around the side of the car.  Fire invaded her nasal passages as she blindly clawed her way through the sand toward the front end of the car.  Her eyes burned like hot pokers were being jabbed into them and tears streamed down her face.  When she reached the front tire then stood, she tried to run but slammed into an immovable object with hands that grabbed her arms.

She fought her captor, kicking and clawing as she gasped for breath.  She must’ve connected with something because he let her go with a pained grunt.  She spun to run, but hit another even harder brick wall whose hands were so tight on her arms she knew she wouldn’t get away.

“This is how you thank me for coming back to save you?!?” Dante growled, then moaned and whimpered a little, before he cursed.  “Your boyfriend tries to kill me and you try to blind me? I knew I was going to regret it, but never so soon, perché!” 

He released her and despite the fire burning behind her lids, Mickie forced her eyes open as relief made her dizzy. “You should’ve—” Mickie started, but couldn’t figure out how to finish.

“I’m a fucking accountant, not a mercenary. You should’ve identified yourself.”  A pained moan came from her right and Mickie turned to see Grayson Jennings rolling in the sand holding his balls, the air pistol about six inches from his left shoulder. 

It was a good thing they weren’t really being attacked, or he’d be dead.   But they weren’t dead, Dante was there to help them, and he was only hurt because of her.  Mickie ran to drop to her knees beside him. 

“Are you okay?” she asked, her whole body shaking. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t see.”

“I’m adding that damned foot to your list of deadly weapons, along with that purse,” he said, his voice choked.  With a moan, he rolled to his left side and rocked.

“Yeah, I’m thankful it was just the pepper spray. I’ve had that foot before and it’s definitely worse,” Dante grated.  “We need to get the hell out of here, but we don’t have a vehicle thanks to your incompetent boyfriend, who decided to shoot first and ask questions later.”

“You bogged it down to the axles—if it was only the windshield, we could still drive it, so I guess you’re the incompetent one, stronzo,” Gray growled.

With a grunt, Dante turned on his heel and walked to the surf where he shed his suit jacket then knelt to splash water on his face.  Mickie ran to the water’s edge to kneel beside him and wash her hands, then splashed the cool, salty water on her face until she put the fire out.  It took a good five minutes of washing before her eyes stopped burning and her nasal passages opened.

Mickie looked to her left when she heard another engine.  She looked back at Dante who was standing beside her, shading his eyes looking back toward the beach house too.  Without a word, he bent to grab her arm and pull her to her feet.

“Get up, goat,” he growled at Grayson as he flung open the back door of the SUV. 

He ducked inside and when he came out, he had two rifle-type guns and another pistol.  He slung one strap over his shoulder, reached back inside and emerged with ammunition.  He stuffed two of the long clips into his belt then walked to Grayson and shoved two magazines into his chest.

“I probably should give this to Michaela, but here.”  He handed Gray the second rifle and pistol, then narrowed his eyes. “Try not to shoot me, stronzo.”

“Try not to shoot me, cazzone,” Grayson shot back as he jerked the rifle from her brother’s hands.  Michaela almost laughed, because if she didn’t know better, she’d think Grayson Jennings was born in Ducktown.

Mickie glanced back toward the house and saw the white SUV with dark windows and big, shiny chrome rims bouncing through the sand.  The engine suddenly whined when the nose of the vehicle buried itself in a sand dune.

“Run to the grass!”  Dante yelled, as he took off himself.  Gray quickly toed off his shoes and ran behind him.  Neither armed man seemed to remember her!  They both had much longer legs, so she ran as fast as she could, but it wasn’t fast enough. 

Mickie was only halfway to the grass when she heard the engine roar, then a metallic clank that said the truck was free of the sand drift.  The engine sound became louder and she knew it would be on her in a matter of seconds.  She had no doubt they wouldn’t stop.  She would just be a speed bump, an obstruction cleared as easily as that sand drift, and a bullet saved to them.

“Run, Jersey—don’t stop!” Grayson shouted, as he popped up from the grass with the rifle pointed toward her.   

She saw Dante pop up at the other end of the grass bed to point his rifle at her too.  She knew her brother’s aim was probably true, but had no idea about Grayson.  Like he told Dante, he was an accountant, not a mercenary, so it could go either way.

Dio mio, please don’t let him shoot me and the men behind me run over my dead body.

The engine roared, four quick pops rang out, and the toe of Mickie’s shoe hit a hole in the sand.  Her body flew through the air and she felt weightless as she heard glass shatter, a metallic thunk, a hiss, and more shots.  When she landed hard on her belly in the soft sand near the grass bed, her breath left her.  It sounded like she was in a war zone, so she did the only thing she could…she covered her head and prayed.

The gunfire stopped, and suddenly she was hoisted into the air.  She didn’t realize she was shaking until her jaw was free and her teeth rattled in her mouth.  Her arms flew around Grayson’s neck, she buried her face there and she suctioned herself to his body.

“Oh, thank God.  You scared the hell out of me,” Gray whispered hotly near her ear, hugging her tighter.  “I thought—” he said, and his voice broke as a tremor rocked him.

“We need to get moving,” Dante said gruffly.

“Are they…” Mickie asked, wanting to look back at the SUV, but unable to make herself.

“Yeah, they are.  And good riddance,” her brother replied flatly.  “But I’m sure they called for backup so we need to get out of here now.”

“Who were they?” Mickie asked.

“From their tattoos, I’d say Los Zetas,” Dante replied.

“Why would a Mexican gang be after her?  I thought it was mob money she’d stolen?” Gray asked, his muscles tensing. “The hit man in DC who tried to kill us was Zetas too.  It just doesn’t make sense.”

She’d stolen?  Anger put the starch back in Mickie’s spine and she squirmed to break free from his hold no matter how safe she felt with his arms around her. 

“Let me down, stronzo!” she shouted, her legs flailing, but his arms became steel bands around her hips to hold her still.

“My guess would be because they’re in bed with the mob now on several deals.  The missing money is probably partly theirs.  They are most likely the ones who killed Uncle Vinny.  The mob would’ve taken him somewhere for interrogation, cut off a few fingers until he told them where the money was—they wouldn’t have just executed him and tried to break into the safe.”

Mickie stopped squirming then.  Her blood turned to ice and she was glad to be in Grayson’s grasp, because she felt sure she was about to pass out.

“We need to find somewhere to talk. This isn’t it—and we can’t go to the compound,” Gray said as he lowered her to her feet, but held her to him.  “The feds paid a visit there and I’m sure they are watching.”

“I know somewhere we can go, but we need a ride.  All of these vehicles are DRT,” Dante said looking back at the white SUV, the black SUV, and the small rental car.

“DRT?” Gray repeated.

“Dead right there,” Dante clarified.  “Which we will be too, if we don’t get the hell out of here fast.  We need your pilot to pick us up.”

“I’ll call Hawk,” Gray said, moving an arm to shove his hand into his pocket.

“Tell the dumbass not to file a flight plan this time.  Come in low and fast, NOE, at the end of the island on the other side of the reserve. We’ll scout and mark an LZ for him.  Tell him to come in hot and we’ll be ready.” 

Gray’s brows crashed together, and he held out the phone.  “I think I’ll let you talk to him.  You guys definitely speak a different language, one I have no desire to learn.”

A dull, monotonous thumping noise drew Mickie’s eyes to the sky.  She squinted against the sun and realized it was a helicopter.

“That’s not Hawk,” Gray said, shading his eyes to look at the sky.

“Not unless he got a black-out paint job and covered his tail numbers.  We need to get to those trees fast,” Dante growled, shoving the phone into his pocket and swinging his rifle to ready position. “I think the feds have arrived.”

“I need to go back and get my purse,” Mickie said, glancing back at the sea grass.

“And you teased me about grabbing my laptop?!?” Gray shouted, and she flinched.

“Unless it’s worth your life, I suggest you leave it all,” Dante replied, and Mickie chewed her lip as she scanned the grass trying to remember where she’d gone in.

“I really need my laptop,” Gray said, and Dante threw his hands up.

“I’m getting my purse, because the notebooks and journal are in there.”  Mickie was not about to leave that behind, because Grayson Jennings would probably accuse her of doing it intentionally. Before either man could stop her, she ran into the grass.

“Well, you two dumbasses go gather up your belongings and I’ll be in the trees watching you get arrested,” he growled, as he took off down the beach.