One kick to the rocks makes them crumble, but her foot is still stuck. I do the only thing I can think of doing and throw myself into her. It’s then she comes free. Grabbing her, I push back up to the surface and swim with her to my boat. And I pray. I can’t remember the last time I did. I can’t remember the last time I thought of God, but I do now as I swim back with my love.
The bullets have stopped flying, but I can’t think of what’s happening outside the cold, still body of the woman I’m carrying in my arms.
Tristan lowers himself over the side and reaches for my hand. He takes hold of me. Horror fills his eyes when he sees Emelia.
We get up on the boat, and I lay her down, positioning her to clear her airway, then check her to see if she’s breathing. She’s not. She’s not fucking breathing, and there’s no pulse either. Fuck. This can’t happen. Not to her. I can’t allow her to die.
Panic and adrenaline force me to focus on what I need to do. I snap into action, press my lips to hers, and give her five breaths to try and resuscitate her.
When nothing happens and she’s still not breathing, I start CPR immediately.
I do the compressions and rescue breaths, yet still nothing happens. One minute passes, then two, and I’ve done two sets.
I count and I breathe into her mouth, and I press on her tiny chest, willing her to come back to me.
I count and I breathe, and I press, but nothing happens. She won’t move. She’s not moving.
In my mind’s eye I remember the time we spent together after the dinner at Pa’s house. We laughed and I carried her down the road as we talked. That was the most normal we’d been. We were just a guy and a girl talking. She wanted to know about me. Then, before the night ended, I did what I always do and fucked things up.
Can’t we go on a real date?
I hear her ask in my mind as her lifeless eyes stare back at me and a tear tracks down my cheek.
“Come back to me,” I wail.
“Massimo,” Tristan says, resting his hand on my shoulder. “I’m sorry.”
“No, leave me!” I shout, shoving his hand away. He’s messing this up. I can’t let her go. I won’t stop trying to pull her back from where she’s gone. I won’t. I can’t be too late. I can’t be too late.
I pump and I breathe into her lips, but I stop and keep my trembling lips against her. Love flows through me. I don’t want to deny it. I don’t want to fight it. I don’t want to fight that I love her. I have from the moment I saw her.
That’s what this is about. I love her, and I can’t let her go.
“Emelia, come back to me!” I shout and press down so hard I think I’ve broken her.
A gasp leaves her body. What comes next is water sputtering from her mouth. She brings it up, all of it, and starts breathing. I think past the haze in my mind and flip her onto her side so she can bring all the water up.
When she finishes and is coughing, I reach for her and hold her in my arms. I hold her like I never want to let her go while she grabs my shirt. The fucking tears come. I remember the last time tears left my eyes.
I was twelve. It was just after I found Ma.
Chapter Thirty-Four
Massimo
We get her back to the house and call the family doc, who can be here on my word. He comes quickly and tends to her.
Emelia keeps looking at me with fear in her eyes. We haven’t spoken.
No one has said anything to me because I look like I’m going to snap.
I know what happened. I know now what shit must have been concocted. The answer is the one-worded answer that has long since plagued my mind. Riccardo.
The pale-blue-eyed devil.
Motherfucker.
If we hadn’t seen Yev and heard that Vlad and Riccardo were in cahoots, I would have thought this was something else.