Wounded Beast (Gypsy Heroes) - Page 58

They wouldn’t stop. I couldn’t overpower them—both carried guns. The choice was simple to make. I didn’t think. I didn’t hesitate. Not for one second. In a flash I pulled out a lifejacket from under the canopy and, with it clutched in my hand, I vaulted over the side of the vessel into the roiling sea, as far away from the pull of the boat as possible.

I hit the water, and sank quickly into a pitch-black abyss full of bubbles. Using my arms to counteract the downward pull, I fought and kicked my way back up, and burst onto the surface with a great gasp. I knew when I jumped overboard that the sea was choppy and treacherous, but in the light of a three-quarter moon it looked as if I was in the middle of a mass of boiling black oil.

Fortunately, it was late July and, though the water was cold, it wasn’t paralyzing. At a guess I would say it was just over fifty degrees Fahrenheit. In that temperature a man could survive for a good few hours before hypothermia set in. That is, if he was wearing a lifejacket or had something to hold on to.

I was wearing my GPS tracker, and I knew that either Preston or Dallas would radio Jake to let him know what had happened, and he would come for me. But it could be hours. I could survive, but what about Vivien? She was small, and the shock of falling into the water would have caused her to swallow a lot of salt water. I looked around frantically.

Until you’ve been alone in the middle of an endless stretch of water, you don’t know how truly small and insignificant you are. I was like cork bobbing on an unforgiving, restless landscape that contained absolutely nothing, not one fucking thing. It had swallowed everything.

She was nowhere to be seen.

I screamed for her over the sound of the boat’s engine, but there was no reply. Telling myself that she wasn’t scared of water, she was a good swimmer, and she was young with a robust constitution, I hooked my hand through one of the armholes of the lifejacket and began to swim strongly toward the area where she’d fallen.

But the truth was I was petrified. I’d never been more afraid in my life. My body was pumping with adrenalin. The raw panic surging through me was tempered only by incredulity that this was actually happening to me.

In my head my father was saying, Don’t thrash about, lad. Keep still. Float. And don’t fuckin’ stretch your hand out—it cools the body. Use your legs. Conserve your heat. Conserve your heat. Conserve your heat … But my hands and legs were moving about wildly. There was no thought of conserving heat.

The sound of the boat died away and I stopped swimming. Treading water, I shou

ted out to her, and listened. Nothing. Where the fuck is she? My heart was beating so hard I felt it bang in my ears. I knew if I didn’t get to her soon, she would die.

I turned round and round, scanning the dark, restless water, hoping, praying. And then, with a surge of excitement, I saw her. She had just colored her hair—the most horrendous orange you ever saw—and I hated it, but it was glowing and floating like seaweed in the moonlight.

Jesus!

She was floating face down! Like a doll being tossed about in the waves.

Fuck me, Vivien! You were planning to go down without a word.

Kicking quickly and powerfully, I swam up to her and threw my arm in a bear hug across her lifeless body. It frightened me how totally unaware of me she was. Grabbing her biceps, I spun her around so she was facing upwards. Still holding on to her body, I swam under her and emerged on the other side of her head, so her back was lying on my chest.

Her eyes were closed, her skin was cold and bluish, and her head lolled. I squeezed her with both forearms in the way you would if someone had swallowed something that was blocking their airways. To my horror, I had crushed her so hard I heard a crack. I prayed I had not broken a rib. A broken rib won’t matter if she’s dead, a voice in my head said.

I was suddenly engulfed by the most horrendous fear.

I don’t know how I did it with the waves bashing us on all sides, and the plumes of spray that hit us in the face, but I managed to grab her tight, pinch her nose with my other hand, and blow into her mouth while pressing the heel of my hand on her diaphragm thirty times, twice a second. I kept on doing it until she coughed, vomited a load of salt water out, and started gulping summer air.

I felt a surge of fierce joy. Quickly inflating the lifejacket, I began to massage her shivering body, keeping her skin as close to mine as possible. She came back to life slowly. The first thing she did was fucking apologize.

It made me so angry. ‘Shut up, Vivien. Don’t you dare apologize. We said we’d never say sorry to each other. We’re the wild ones, remember?’

‘I can’t believe we’re going to end up as shark food,’ she said. There was no fear in her voice. Maybe she was in shock.

‘These waters are too cold for sharks,’ I replied, rubbing her arms furiously. I knew we were a long way from being saved.

‘So this is how my life ends,’ she said in a voice full of wonder.

It hit me in the chest like a kick from a horse. ‘You’re not fucking dying. Stop being so fucking dramatic.’

She turned her head slightly and looked at me sadly. ‘I feel so stupid. This is the stupidest thing I’ve done. I can’t believe I’m going to die because of my own stupidity,’ she whispered. And then the thought occurred to her. ‘Oh my God, Dom. I’ve been so selfish. You’re going to die too.’

‘Neither of us is going to die. Jake will be here soon.’

‘What if he doesn’t come? He doesn’t like me, you know,’ she said.

‘Stop talking nonsense. Why wouldn’t he like you?’

‘You’re such a fool, Dom.’

Tags: Georgia Le Carre Romance
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