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climbed the ladder to the pilot's chair and turned the key in the ignition. Thank God Reece always left it engaged. They'd fought over it numerous times, but if she ever saw him again, she swore she'd retract all the nagging.
    She turned to check on Martin, surprised that he'd followed her. "Shouldn't be alone," he said, then collapsed on a bench next to the pilot's chair. She wasn't sure what he thought he was going to do, but she admired his gumption, especially considering he got motion sick just looking in the bathtub.
    Still, she wished he'd gone below, out of range. But it was too late to argue. She pushed the throttle, sending the boat out into the channel. Steering the boat by touch, she turned to look behind her, scanning the shoreline for signs of movement.
    An answering bullet lodged in one of the aft armchairs, sending it slamming across the deck.
    "Get down, Martin," she barked, relieved when he obeyed by sliding off the bench onto the deck floor. "Keep watch behind us."
    She turned her attention back to the canal in front of them, increasing speed slightly. The farther she got from the shore, the more likely it was that they would be out of range of the intruder's gun. In less than fifty yards they'd reach the main channel, and from there she'd head for the open water of Laguna Madre.
    Reece's family had a cottage in Port Aransas, about half an hour's drive from Corpus. It was closer by water, and she figured if she could make it there, she'd be able to get Martin some help and regroup before heading for the rendezvous.
    But first she had to clear the canal.
    It was narrow and shallow on the edges, which meant she had to make her way cautiously. Grounding out now would mean certain death, so she focused on the buoys, keeping the cruiser to the middle of the channel.
    A noise behind her sent a shard of alarm piercing through her, and she twisted to look over her shoulder, her worst fears confirmed as a smaller boat rounded the bend, closing the distance.
    "He's coming in fast," Martin said, his eyes glued to the boat on their tail.
    Built for speed in open water, the cruiser was more unwieldy in confined areas like the canal. However, the jet boat behind was giving her little choice. She had to make a run for it.
    Pushing the throttle forward, she felt the cruiser lurch as it picked up speed. It cut cleanly through the water, keeping the smaller boat from getting any closer. She'd be able to maintain the speed until the very end, when she'd have to slow to make the turn into the bay. If she was lucky, she'd catch him off guard, unprepared for the banking curve, and ground him.
    If not, she'd at least have the chance to reach the shipping channel and from there, open water. Then she could open the engines and the cruiser should be able to outdistance the jet boat.
    Concentrating on timing the turn, she tightened her hand on the throttle, the sound of the jet boat's engines taunting her from behind. They'd come too far to lose now. She shot another look behind her, trying to make out the driver's face, but he was too far away, and there was nothing distinguishing about the man except the green baseball cap on his head.
    A pro—no doubt about it.
    But she wasn't exactly a lightweight herself, and she'd be damned if she'd let the bastard catch her.
    As the bend loomed in front of them at almost a right angle, Simone held her breath, waiting for the last second to decelerate. She felt the boat fishtail as she slowed to make the turn, the shimmy sending things flying across the deck.
    "Grab on to something," she yelled at Martin. "It's going to be choppy."
    She pulled the wheel to the left, holding it with all her strength, the boat keeling to the port side, righting as she straightened it out. She waited a beat, then opened the throttle, feeling the surge of the engine beneath her.
    Risking a look behind her, she saw Martin hanging on to the railing, his face white, his eyes still glued to the jet boat as it too