Canaan struggled to hold onto Nolan’s limp, intentionally unresponsive body while clinging to the rocks as the boats congregated on his position.

Two boats inched closer to Canaan and Nolan as a third sped by and out of sight back toward where the fugitives had entered the water.

The boat was open air, built for speed, and held a crew of three men. Two of them pointed assault rifles at Canaan as the third, the craft’s pilot, turned so that he was perpendicular to the sheer cliff and cut the engine so he could be heard.

“Where are the others?”

“They hit the rocks back there. They went under. He and I are the only two who made the water,” he said, indicating Nolan by pulling him up a few inches above the surface.

The lead security man continued to question Canaan. “Is he alive?”

“He swallowed a lot of water. I got to him just as he started to sink. He’s out.”

The man who’d been questioning Canaan spoke into a two-way radio, relaying his findings. Moments later, he nodded his head as he received a message back through his ear piece.

“I can’t hold him much longer,” Canaan called out to the men in the boat. “He’s slipping. If you want him, it better be soon.”

Acting on a signal from the lead man, one of the assault rifle-toting mercenaries set his weapon down and produced a ring buoy from the floor of the boat and tossed it toward Canaan, letting out just enough slack in the rope to let it reach him.

“Take hold of that with your free hand,” ordered the man driving the boat. “Don’t let go of Weston.”

Canaan did his best to comply, but the water was becoming choppy as storm clouds gathered overhead. If he took his hand off the rocks to reach for the ring, he feared losing Nolan, in which case he’d blow his cover.

“I can’t reach it,” Canaan called out.

The response was a spray of bullets just over his head from the third man in the boat.

“Is that enough motivation for you?” The man in charge asked.

Canaan grimaced and redoubled his efforts. He lunged for the ring and Nolan went face down in the water for several moments before Canaan was able to pull him up. Ever the professional, Nolan gave no hint that he was conscious, despite Canaan nearly inadvertently drowning him.

Canaan hooked an arm through the ring, and the who’d thrown it reeled him in, all under the watchful eye of the third man and the armed crew of the second boat.

When Canaan reached the starboard side of the boat, the man pulling in the rope patted his belt holster, which held a sidearm. “Don’t do anything stupid, Titan.”

The third man went to the back of the boat where a small ladder sat next to the outboard engine. He straddled the ladder, setting his foot on a small handhold near the top, and reached down for Nolan.

Nolan was dead weight, offering neither assistance nor resistance, and Canaan winced as his friend’s body was summarily dumped in the center of the boat. The man who’d reeled them in bent to check Nolan for a pulse.

At the same time, Canaan climbed warily aboard. As he advanced up the ladder, the man who’d pulled Nolan in took a step back and drew his weapon. “When you get to the top, turn around, sit down, and place your hands on the back of your head,” he commanded.

As Nolan raised his hands to comply, and pivoted to turn, a rock the size of a tennis ball flew through the air, striking his guard on the shoulder. When the man turned face the shore, Nolan lunged.

Simultaneously, once Nolan’s pulse was checked and the man went to roll him onto his stomach to cuff him, Nolan’s legs suddenly shot up and across the mercenary’s outstretched arm, locking him in a painful jiu-jitsu arm bar.

All hell was breaking loose. Annalise Rubidoux dove into the water just ahead of a burst of gunfire from the escort boat. Carlton Fox popped up and threw two more rocks, more to draw fire than actually inflict damage.

The man Canaan had lunged toward was knocked overboard and into the water. The boat captain turned to face Canaan, who rushed him before he could draw his own weapon.

“Stay low, Canaan!” Nolan shouted as he finished off his opponent with punches before lifting him up and out of the boat.

Canaan wasn’t traditionally trained in martial arts, but his fencing experience and time in prison had made him one tough customer. He powered out of an attempted choke hold and drove an elbow into the mercenary’s throat as bullets began to whizz past, just overhead.

Nolan spotted Annalise in the water just in front of the boat and tossed her the Glock he’d removed from the man whose arm he’d broken before throwing him off the boat. She caught it above water, and in one motion began firing on the second boat.

At the same time, Carlton Fox joined the fray, diving into the churning water and swimming hard for the second boat.

A shot from Annalise Rubidoux killed the second boat’s captain, and when he collapsed, it was onto the throttle of his craft. It lurched forward, crashing into the rocks before either of his crewmates could take control.

Nolan used the butt of an assault rifle to finish off Canaan’s opponent, and the youngest Titan dumped him into the drink.

Carlton Fox met the man in the water, and after a brief scuffle managed to hold him beneath the surface until his struggles ceased.

Rain began to pelt the scene as Nolan surveyed the wreckage of the second boat for any threats.

“Everybody get on here, quick!” he shouted. “We’ll have company any second now!”

Annalise climbed aboard just as the third boat pulled in, announcing its arrival with a hail of automatic weapons fire. Carlton disappeared beneath the waves.

“Conserve ammo, but take these fuckers out!” Annalise Rubidoux yelled over the din. She eliminated the man in the back of the third boat with a single shot and Nolan took aim at the captain with the AK-47 he’d used to smash the head of the man who fought with Canaan.

The captain ducked out of the line of fire and shot back from his own Glock before laying into his own throttle in an effort to escape and regroup.

A final shot from Annalise Rubidoux, one that would have impressed the most grizzled of marksmen, ended the attempt. The captain pitched forward and head over heels into the water. One man remained aboard the third enemy vessel, but now outnumbered four-to-one, he set his weapon down and raised his hands in surrender.

“We need information! Don’t shoot him!” Nolan implored. Carlton swam out to the boat and climbed on, holding him at gunpoint until Nolan, Annalise, and Canaan could get their own craft moving again and sidle up to the boat Carlton Fox and the hired gun shared.

Canaan and Nolan disembarked and joined the third boat, approaching their prisoner with caution.

“Canaan, Annalise, keep your eyes peeled for other boats or snipers up above. We can’t stay here long, but I’ve got to gather some intel,” Nolan explained.

“Where the hell are we?” Nolan barked at the man. When he failed to answer, Canaan repeated the question, this time in Russian.

After he replied, Canaan translated his answer for the group. “Cape Emine. Black Sea. We’re in Bulgaria.”

Nolan made eye contact with his most trusted ally present, Annalise. “Bulgaria?” he asked.

Annalise shrugged. “Not a clue, Weston.”

Canaan stepped closer to the man, interrogating him in Russian.

“Just south of here is the Cape. Past that there are sandy beaches. Public beaches. To the north miles of coastline like this, just rocks.”

“Does he have a phone?” Nolan asked. “I need to check on my family.”

“What we need is a safe house,” Annalise declared. “Do we have any assets in country? Any of us? Turkey is south of here, but I don’t know how much fuel we have.”

Carlton and Nolan both shook their heads. Canaan relieved their prisoner of his phone and two-way radio.

“There’s chatter on this thing,” Canaan said of the radio. Russian mostly. They have a helicopter inbound. We’ve got to move, right?”

“I say we head south to the beach,” Carlton suggested. “Worse comes to worse, we ditch the boat and blend in there while we figure our next move. Besides, I can’t be the only one who’s famished.”

“It’s south to outrun a chopper or we head back to the house,” Nolan pondered. “Ask him how much more security we can expect.”

Canaan put the question to the man, who replied that two dozen men remained on the grounds.

“Shit. That means at least what, forty or fifty probably?” Nolan asked, rhetorically. “Whichever boat has more fuel, we take it and head for those beaches. Right now.”

Annalise reported more in her craft, so they moved into her boat. Nolan rigged the throttle on the third boat to send it out toward the middle of the Black Sea, and Annalise dispatched the Russian mercenary, but not before having him strip out of his dry clothes and boots.

At top speed, the boat zipped toward Cape Emine and just past it the resort town of Elenite, just beyond, with four weary souls aboard.