9. Chapter 9
Chapter nine
B lackness still crowded the edges of his vision, and Elio felt lost in the middle of another violent dream. They were falling, all of them. Rissa’s terrified scream filled his ears and Vince slumped into the driver’s side airbag, not moving.
Almost of its own volition, Elio’s hand reached for his seatbelt, unbuckling it as he fought to get his eyes to focus and his mind to work. This wasn’t a dream. It was real life, and they were really falling toward the—
His thought was cut off as the front of the Charger struck the river, throwing him against the back of Vince’s seat. The clear green water hit the windshield and burst through it, pouring into the car like an upside-down waterfall. Elio saw Rissa’s desperate face and her elbow flying up to shield it, and then she was gone, buried in the frothing wave.
He must have blacked out for only a second, but somehow it was enough time for his mind to suddenly fill with a clear, beautiful vision.
Rissa’s face was before him again, but this time it was serene, smiling. She was lying on a bed looking up at him, her dark hair in glorious, glossy disarray around her head. He leaned forward, his lips brushing her forehead and her eyelids, then settling over her lips. Her arms encircled his neck, pulling him closer, and he felt his entire being filled with love.
He loved her—and he had loved her for longer than he could remember her. He remembered the love even though he could not remember the first moment he felt it or even the moment they met. He had never felt for anyone what he felt for her. The certainty of it filled his body with energy
The cold gush of water immersed him, and Elio was suddenly wide awake, his eyes flying open in the murky depths. Rissa was still in front of him. He could see her dark hair swirling in the water and the pale flash of skin as her arm moved, reaching for Vince. Her face turned toward him, eyes wide with horror.
Bubbles rose around them as the car plummeted downward, sinking through the cold water and taking them with it.
Suddenly, Elio was in motion, clawing his way over the console and reaching across Rissa’s lean body to open the passenger door. It resisted him, but adrenaline was filling him with strength, and he forced it to obey.
Grabbing Rissa, he pushed her through the door, climbing into the passenger seat as she vacated it. He then turned his attention to the unconscious man in the driver’s seat. His fingers fumbled for the seatbelt latch. As it snapped loose, he tangled them in the man’s shirt, yanking him from behind the airbag and through the passenger door after him.
They burst free of the car, and he saw a flash of movement out of the corner of his eye. Rissa. She grabbed the other side of Vince’s shirt, and they kicked their legs in tandem, straight for the wavering, sun-dappled surface of the river above them.
Elio’s lungs felt as if they were close to bursting. Red spots exploded across his vision and his head pounded and throbbed, but the pain was faint, his awareness dimmed by his lack of oxygen. He kicked again, more powerfully than before, yanking Vince’s dead weight after him.
And suddenly, he was breaking the surface. Beside him, Rissa gasped and sputtered, her face turned upward toward the sun, her mouth open, her dark hair slicked against her head and her skin glistening with water. Elio was also gasping, air filling his lungs in aching abundance as his legs and one arm kept working to keep his heavy-laden body at the surface.
He yanked again at Vince, hauling the man’s face above the surface as well. Vince did not gasp or splutter. His face was pale and lifeless, his eyes and lips closed.
Hooking his arm around the man’s neck and treading water, Elio met Rissa’s eyes across the rippling surface. They were as blue as the water and sky and full of dread. He glanced around, noting that they had been pulled downstream of the bridge.
The black SUV was nowhere to be seen. Perhaps it had crashed on the other side, or perhaps it had lost control and gone over the edge as well.
Elio kicked into motion, swimming with his legs and one arm toward the river’s edge, moving just slightly diagonally to the slow current that continued to pull them. Rissa followed his lead. Her face was barely above the water, but her grip on Vince had not wavered, and she kicked out strongly, helping to bear the weight of his limp body.
The bank of the river was mercifully low, a long shallow beach of pebbles and rubble that the water lapped gently. Elio’s feet touched the ground, and he hauled them toward dry land. He felt when Rissa’s feet also met the sandy bottom and they began to surge forward even faster.
They dragged Vince’s body out of the water and a little way up the pebbled slant. Elio’s sudden rush of energy gave out as quickly as it had appeared, and he stumbled and sank to his knees. Rissa fell to the beach as well, but she immediately dragged herself up to straddle Vince’s body. Pausing only long enough to drag in a couple of deep, ragged breaths, she put both palms on his chest and began to pump up and down in a strong, regular rhythm.
“Come on, Vince,” she gasped when she got enough air. “Breathe.”
Elio watched the muscles tense in her arms as she leaned into the chest compressions. Water dripped from her face and hair onto Vince’s unresponsive body. Still, Rissa worked to bring him back. She was completely focused on her task, no matter how hopeless it appeared.
A slight sound drew Elio’s attention away. Lifting his heavy head, he looked around, his heart stuttering at what he saw.
A half-circle of men dressed in black surrounded them, slowly closing in and pinning them against the river. Every man held a gun aimed at the trio who were collapsed on the beach in the middle of the circle.
For a second, Elio stopped breathing. He couldn’t seem to get his voice to work to tell Rissa what was happening.
And then, the circle opened to let a woman step between them. Something in Elio sparked at the sight of her, like one live wire touching another. The woman was also dressed in black, but there was a difference. Her tight-fitting shirt was studded with sequins that shimmered and quivered in the sunlight, making Elio almost dizzy. Long, vividly red hair hung loose down her back, pulled back from her face by a black headband.
He knew this woman—something told him he knew her better than he wanted to. Of course, with the armed men pointing guns at them, he didn’t need his memory to know that she was bad, bad news.