She had to try.
Laura rolled and he came with her. She had the force of momentum. Jens was small and light compared to most of the adult male killers she had taken down. She forced herself up to her feet, and he came with her just as she had predicted. He didn’t even fight it. He let her get up—so long as he still had his grip on her neck, he would go wherever she wanted.
Laura was facing the middle of the ship—the mast.
She didn’t have time to brace herself, to take a breath that wouldn’t come, to gather her senses. Time wasn’t a thing she had at all. Dark spots were clouding her eyes, and she knew that if she didn’t go now, it was over.
She ran backwards as hard as she could, ramming into the railing that surrounded the deck.
It was a hard enough impact to jolt his hands from around her neck, and then the rope was slipping away as he grabbed the railing for support. She took a breath of sheer relief, cold and burning in her lungs, and coughed. Laura half-turned and felt him hanging onto the edge of the railing, leaning backwards precariously, wide-eyed, looking down at the water.
She needed to save her own life.
She didn’t even think.
She pushed him again, shoving her whole body weight against him, and then fell back to the deck, gasping for newfound air.
It happened almost in slow motion.
He was grasping onto the rail, screaming, looking down at the water in abject terror. His upper body was over the side, his legs fighting for grip in thin air. Maybe he would have been strong enough to pull himself back, but he was fixated on the water, staring down at it with the widest, whitest eyes Laura had ever seen—
And then, like a ghost under the silver light of the moon as it broke from behind a cloud, he was gone, toppling over the side and losing his fight for balance, tumbling all the way down to the water below, screaming as he went.
Laura heard the splash.
She scrambled up and then fell to her knees again, choking and coughing, her whole body shaking. Her neck was burning with pain, her throat raw. She thought she heard a splash again as she coughed, but she couldn’t be sure. She clawed her way over to the railing and clung onto it desperately, not willing to go the same way that he had gone. She looked down into the water. It was even darker between the two ships, only the very white-edged tips of the waves visible in the pale silver light.
There was nothing. No dark shape. No movement.
Laura listened, but she heard nothing. What should she do? Jump in after him, try to stop him from drowning? But she was already struggling for breath, already weak—there was no telling whether she would even be able to help or just be dragged under herself. She grabbed the rails to help herself stand up, looking over toward the walkway, thinking maybe he had already pulled himself up, but there was nothing, no sign—
A rush of something dark broke the surface, and the sound of gasping. Laura gripped onto the rails for life as she watched. She should go down there and arrest him—but she couldn’t move fast enough, not while she still needed air and air and more air—and there was Schafer to think about—and she thought maybe there were two of them down there, which was wrong—
The dark shape clambered up onto the walkway and fell to the wood, gasping for air and rolling, and Laura saw she was right. It was two people. One of them was huddled into a ball, shaking, shivering. The other…
The other was Nate.
CHAPTER TWENTY SIX
“Th…” Laura stopped, cleared her throat, tried to get her voice back. “Thanks.” The result was weak and hoarse, but at least she’d managed to finish the word.
Nate smiled, but she could see that it was peppered with worry. “That’s okay,” he said. “I thought it might help.”
Laura looked into the cup suspiciously. “What is it?” she croaked.
“Tea with honey,” Nate replied with a grin. “Not coffee.”
Laura gave him a puppy-dog look, hoping it would sway him. “Not coffee?”
He shook his head decisively. “Not coffee.”
Laura sighed and took a sip of the tea, finding it as unsatisfying as she had expected. It was also a thick and almost gloopy texture thanks to the sheer amount of honey he must have put in. She swallowed it, about to protest at the sickly sweetness, but found to her surprise that her throat did actually feel marginally better. She took another sip, instead.
“It’s good, right?” Nate said.
“Don’t let it go to your head,” Laura croaked balefully, then gave him a secret, sideways smile in thanks.
Nate chuckled. “I was able to get hold of Rondelle. We’ve got flights scheduled for first thing in the morning.”