Antonio struggles against my grip, but in his weakened state, can’t free himself. I feel him reaching downward. I think he’s bending one of his legs.
I feel an agonizing stab in my thigh and realize he’s retrieved some sort of knife, probably from an ankle holster. The blade twists, and excruciating pain shoots up my leg.
I lift my arms and let him go, shoving him away with my good leg.
I’m still descending, rapidly—I know because of the way the water flows against my body, and seems to press down on me tighter and tighter with each passing moment. My ears ache from the pressure.
The knife remains lodged in my thigh. I explore the area with my fingers in the dark, and when I feel the bite of sharp serrations, I realize a portion of the blade protrudes beneath the hilt, just above my jeans.
I loop my bound hands over that sharp section and begin sawing the rope against it. I grit my teeth as the blade shifts backward and the opposite end cuts deeper into my thigh; I feel like stopping, if only to end the pain, but I know I can’t if I want to live.
I press all the harder, rubbing up and down through agony so great my vision fills with stars. I bite my lower lip to hold back a scream—I can’t waste air.
Finally the rope severs and my hands are free. Without hesitation I rip the blade from my thigh and once again bite back a yell. I bend over and grope for the rope securing my right ankle. When I find it, I saw through. I repeat the process with the rope tied to my left ankle, cutting it away.
I bite the knife handle between my teeth so that both hands are free, and then swim toward the surface. Since I can’t see anything, I hold one hand above my nose and release air bubbles. When I feel them traveling up into my palm, I confirm I’m traveling in the right direction.
My thigh throbs as I swim, as do my ears and other wounds, but the burning agony in my lungs eclipses all else: I need air. The stars that filled my vision when I freed the knife never went away. I’m going to black out soon.
And then I can no longer hold back. I inhale. Water shoots up my nostrils.
I surface at almost the same time, and that burning liquid becomes air.
I start to cough and plunge my head underwater to mask the sound. I surface again to inhale and cringe at how loud it sounds. Water splashes into my mouth. I taste salt and copper. I shove my mouth into the water again to cough, not wanting to alert the other Amato minion.
I tread water in place, quickly circling, and spot the speedboat bobbing on the waves: it’s drifted well away to the south. I doubt the driver has heard me, given the distance, not to mention the constant lapping of the waves against the hull.
I turn toward the beach. It’s not too far: I can swim to shore from here. But first, I have to do something about that leg…
I tear a piece of cloth from my shirt and wrap it tightly around my thigh, staunching the blood flow. It will be difficult to swim with the circulation limited like that, but it’s either this or bleed out and die.
Somehow, I manage, and when I reach shore I hide under the dock until the driver gives up the search and returns. He’s alone, I note. I killed Antonio after all.
Good.
I wait until the guard drives away in the car before I haul myself onto the beach.
I lie there, resting.
The evening started off so well. Only to end like this…
All I can think about is that I’m never going to see Angela again.
She won’t know what happened to me. Her father will never tell her. She’ll think I left her. Abandoned her.
Maybe it’s better this way.
She’ll wonder why her father has the necklace, and not me… assuming he gives it back to her. Maybe he’ll say one of his men found it abandoned somewhere outside the villa. Thrown away by a young man who no longer wanted her.
I touch my neck, remembering the feel of the necklace before it was taken from me.
In that moment I swear I won’t give up. One day she’ll be mine. Even if it means killing Giovanni Amato.
I pull myself to my feet. I do have one thing going for me: her father thinks I’m dead. He won’t be looking for me.
I have time to come up with a plan.
All the time in the world.
