In Too Deep (Wildfire Lake 1)

“Look out!” My scream is swallowed by the wind, and I can’t do anything but watch the impending horror of a furious Mother Nature against all of man and womankind on this little island.

My whole body tenses, my fingers bloodless around the railing. Just before the wave hits, KT tucks her head, covers it with both arms, and rolls into a ball. A scream vibrates in my throat, but I can’t hear anything above the wind and surf.

The wave swallows the woman and tosses her like a beach ball in a whiplash of seawater. She hits the rock shelf again, bouncing violently, tumbling a little closer to the resort. I assess her location in relation to mine. I want to haul her to safe ground the way I did with Brianna Asher six years before, after the girl took a hard fall waterskiing on Wildfire Lake. God, the mind could be a wicked thing, drawing the strangest parallels where none exist. This is an entirely different situation, one well outside my abilities.

I can’t imagine how KT could still be alive after this beating, but as soon as the wave recedes, the woman scrambles a little closer to the resort like a hermit crab scaling rock, veering toward the stairway. When I realize she has a chance to get within reach, I drop the pillows I didn’t realize I was still holding and make my way down the staircase, gripping onto the rail with both hands.

A millisecond before the next wave slams KT and drags her into the melee again, the woman lunges. I see her in slow motion, her wet suit-encased body sailing parallel to the tide pools, arms outstretched the way a baseball player dives for home plate. The sea carries her toward me, and without thinking, I reach for her, but she’s nowhere near my grasp. The wave crashes, thundering in my head and rattling my teeth. But this time, when I dare look again, the wave recedes, leaving KT clinging to the last metal stairway post.

I race down the steps separating us and grab hold of the pole with one hand and fist the shoulder of KT’s wet suit in the other. The woman is bloodied and battered and weak, but she looks up at me and screams, “Lock your arm around the post and brace.” When I do, she twines her arms through mine, then around the pole. “Hold on through the next wave, then run like hell.”

The last word is barely out of her mouth when the water hits. Even with the pole locked in the crook of my arm, I’m unprepared for the sheer, raw force of the ocean. It hits me like a cement wall, stealing my air and tossing my body. I become a terrorized flag, sailing behind the pole in the water.

I swear my brain lights up with snapshots of my childhood, and I wonder if this is what they mean by having your life flash before your eyes. Unable to hold my breath even one millisecond longer, I grapple with the concept of drowning. But before I can give up, the warm salty water slides back into the sea, and I gasp, greedy for air.

KT and I cling to each other, tripping up the stairs, clawing at the railing until we’re out of the sea’s reach. There, we drop to the cement steps and cleave to a vertical post, which is drilled into the surrounding rock and set with cement. Chloe appears, pulling me up by the arm. Behind me, KT fights to her feet, reaches for the strap across her chest, and releases the oxygen tank on her back.

Before the metal canister hits the ground, the wind howls past, spinning KT like a top. The tank comes at me like a missile, connecting with the side of my head.

I don’t remember blacking out, only know that when I return from darkness, KT?

??s on one side of me and Chloe’s on the other, all three of us struggling up the staircase. I couldn’t have been unconscious for long, because we’ve only made it a few steps closer to the resort. But my head is screaming so loud, I don’t even hear the ocean anymore.

Anything not nailed down sails through the air—branches, stones, umbrellas, tables, chairs. The wind peels shingles off roofs and siding off buildings, shooting the now-lethal weapons through the air. I try to get my feet under me, but my legs are weak, my brain is fuzzy. My vision fluctuates, and my head throbs.

The other women pause, and we crouch, heads ducked, restoring some strength. When we move again, I’m stronger, less dependent.

A thundering crack rips through the air behind, and to our left. I turn to look, but my head swims, and all I hear is Chloe’s screech before all my senses are assaulted with what sounds and feels like lightning striking at my feet. Energy crackles through my body, the ground rolls underneath me, debris pummels my head and body. The only grounding force I have is the other women, our arms still intertwined and locked, creating a human chain.

When I manage to pry my eyes open against the wind, I see one of the century-old banyan trees on the property lying at an angle across the stairway only feet in front of us. We’ve cheated death again.

“This way.” KT drags us in another direction.

My mind is so cloudy and confused, I would follow a mermaid into the storm-raging sea. KT serpentines around debris until we stumble across a threshold into some kind of shelter, slam the door and collapse to the floor.

Inside. We’ve made it inside one of the resort’s studio cottages.

For several long moments, no one speaks, no one moves. I can only assume the other two are doing what I’m doing, catching my breath and absorbing the terrorizing situation.

We just teetered on the razor’s edge of death. Death. As in killed. Gone for eternity. No more drinks with friends, no more shopping on Rodeo Drive, no more searching for Mr. Right. Not even another eye roll for my parents.

This still doesn’t feel real. Even soaked and battered by the storm, I feel oddly numb. Wooden, even.

Chloe roles to her knees and takes my face in both hands. She has nicks and scrapes everywhere, blood trickling down her forehead and cheeks.

“Oh, Laiyla.” Her soft words make me refocus on the way she’s looking at me, as if in pain. She lifts my head until we’re at eye level. “Look at me.”

“I am.” But not really. Black spots float in from of my eyes, blocking parts of Chloe’s face.

“Laiyla.” KT’s face swims into view. I recoil at the sight of blood covering the right side of her head and deep scratches on her face. “Her pupils look okay. Laiyla, say something. Talk to me.”

“Jesus, I hope I don’t look as bad as you,” rolls out of my mouth.

Both women sag on dual exhales and short-lived laughter.

KT moves to the wall of louvered glass windows and shuts them, blocking out the rain and wind. “Laiyla, help me upend this mattress. Chloe, bring those chairs over here.”

KT is already shoving the mattress off the bed, and I grab one side to help tilt it against the wall of glass.