Jamie kicked another crate across the cabin, lodging it up against the door with a grunt. Sweat poured down his temple. “This is ridiculous,” he panted. “We’re fortifying a floating tin can.” Noah returned to the cockpit, chest heaving. “It’s all we’ve got.”
Jamie slid into the co-pilot seat, wiping his palms on his pants. “I don’t think this’ll hold them for long.” “It doesn’t need to,” Noah said. “Just long enough.” The engines behind them coughed, then stabilized. The boat engines, however, were louder now—steady, menacing.