He wouldn't have killed the man - he didn't think. But Delmonico pulled a gun from one of his voluminous sleeves. When the other man pulled the trigger, Remy instinctively moved to knock his hand aside. Unfortunately for Delmonico, his wrist turned inward just as the weapon fired. A look of utter shock flashed across the skeletal features just before he crumpled in a heap.
Remy didn't waste his time checking for a pulse. He really didn't give a damn whether Delmonico survived or not. Mari was far more important. Sheer terror gripped his chest as he scooped up the cup and flew down to the shore.
There.
He spotted a small dark spot on the sand and flew downward. It was Mari's hair. She'd made it to the beach, and she was in human form lying on her stomach, her arms out to the side. He landed beside her and smoothed a hank of wet dark hair off her face.