Her mouth filled with water, and she pushed it out before rolling to swim toward shore. She hadn’t gotten a full breath, and already her lungs were tight with the need for air.
She surfaced and sucked in a huge breath. Pain exploded in her arm, and she inhaled another mouthful of water. Shock splintered with needle-like awareness. She touched her arm and felt warmth. Liquid warmth.
Blood.
Son of a bitch had shot her! Terror hit her like a sledgehammer. She fought to keep her panic at bay. She had to hold it together. Why the hell had he shot her?
Her hair went straight upward, and her neck popped back as a hand yanked her out of the water. She banged over the side of a boat, and she had the presence of mind to wrap her arms protectively around her middle.
Her baby. She had to protect her baby.
She landed with a crash on the deck of the boat and squinched her eyes shut against the beam of light shining into her face.
“Get up.”
She cracked open one eye and stared up at the man looming over her. She glanced around and saw no one else.
“Go f**k yourself.”
He kicked her in the arm and agony ricocheted through her body. Then he reached down, curled his hand in her hair and hauled her upright.
If he hadn’t still been holding her, she would have gone down. Her legs refused to cooperate. Her arm was on fire and hung loosely at her side.
“Where is the key, Sophie?”
“Look, I don’t even know you,” she spit out. “You don’t get to call me by my first name. Or at all. Do you think I’m stupid enough to carry it around with me?”
A flash of silver caught her gaze. Her eyes widened when she saw the wicked curve of a very sharp blade. The she raised her gaze higher and saw cold determination in the face of the assassin.
Forcing bravado into her voice, she said, “If you kill me, you get squat.”
“A fact you’re counting on I’m sure,” he said in a flat tone. “My orders are to make you talk. Any way that has to happen. Trust me, you’ll talk.”
She swallowed and sucked in air through her nostrils. God, what was she going to do? She’d been so close to Sam. So damn close.
All these months, all this time, she’d stayed to the shadows, always one step ahead of her father’s grasp. Even dead, he held her by the throat. Her uncle would carry on his legacy of selling death. There was always someone willing to take up the reins.
But without access to her father’s wealth and his resources, Tomas was crippled. She planned to keep him that way.
The man hauled her close, his breath blowing hot across her face. She felt the edge of the knife against her belly and bile rose sharp in her throat.
“You won’t die. Not at first. But your baby will. Tell me what I want to know or I’ll slice you open and let your child spill out of your belly.”
Her stomach revolted and she gagged, the knot so big that she choked. Tears stung her eyes, and then rage blew hot like the first wave of a blast.
“You son of a bitch,” she bit out.
She’d had enough. The fact that she was constantly underestimated usually worked in her favor, but this guy seemed smarter than the other ass**les her father employed. Indeed he was smarter than her father, who hadn’t believed she’d shoot her own flesh and blood.
This bastard wasn’t going to give her any easy passes because she was cute and blond and innocent-looking. Which meant she had to rely on sheer grit and determination if she was going to keep her baby alive.
“All right, I’ll tell you,” she gasped out. “Put the knife away.”
“I like it just where it is.”
He wasn’t going to make this easy.
She was careful not to glance down, not to even twitch. No advance warning when she made her move. She waited until she nearly jittered out of her skin. There. The knife eased just a bit and no longer bit as hard into her skin.
She rammed her knee into his balls and crashed her elbow down onto his wrist. The knife clattered to the deck and she kicked it hard, sending it spiraling across the boat.
He grabbed her by the neck, his fingers digging deep into her skin despite the fact he was hunched over holding his balls with his free hand.
His hand squeezed mercilessly, cutting off her air supply.
She was going to die.
Here on a boat probably not far from where Sam lived. On the lake, to make the disposal of her body easier. At the hands of an ass**le who talked about murder like he would the weather.
Rage. Red-hot and searing. It splintered through her veins like volcanic fury.
Faking surrender, she let every muscle in her body go limp. Maybe it caught him off guard, or maybe he expected her to fight, because his grip eased.
Harnessing her anger, she bolted forward, throwing herself against the ass**le. Forearms across his chest, she shoved, putting every ounce of her strength behind her movements.
He staggered backward, his feet stumbling to catch up with the rest of him. His hands flew up, and he tried to grab the railing.
She jumped on him, and they both went over the side.
The cold water hit her like a ton of bricks.
Down she went into the darkness. She fought off panic and struck out, swimming away from the boat. Several yards out, she broke the surface, gasping for breath.
He was out there. Probably close. But it would take him precious time to get back into the boat to look for her. Time she could use to her advantage.
This time she took a deeper breath as she dove back under, and she forced herself to stay under until shadows grew around her consciousness. She broke the surface and kept her head down as she hungrily sucked in air.