The man’s eyes bugged out, his face the color of an aubergine. Saliva came in strings from his mouth as he clawed and gasped for air. The French’s gun dropped to floor and slid close to where the Italian went around and around in spastic circles, maddened by my heels slicing into his flesh.
I let go, sweeping up the gun and crouching to the floor.
“Shoot,” Brando barely wheezed out. “Shoot the fucker!”
Those words seemed all he had left in him.
I did. I shot the fucker. The Italian fell forward, a look of complete shock on his face.
The Frenchman sagged, finally still, and both bodies hit the floor.
The door swung open and I whirled, prepared to pull the trigger again. At the sight of familiar faces, I breathed easier. Rocco lifted his hands and ordered me to put the gun down.
“Time to move,bella,” he said once I did, moving around me to reach Brando.
Dario followed, then Romeo, Guido, Donato, and Vincenzo. Another man ran by the open door, half-dragging Livio, whose arm was wrapped around his supporter’s neck. Lev came in right after their fast-moving forms passed.
“On the count of three!” Donato said.
The men hoisted Brando up between them. The other men made a shield around them as they carried him toward the exit.
“It is time to go now,zolotse.” Lev took my hand, forcing me toward the door.
The boat was in total chaos. Gunshots rang out in every direction, smoke filled the air, and somewhere in the distance, Sheena Easton still played. As we got closer to the deck, I heard numerous splashes as the men jumped overboard. It was easier than dodging bullets in such close quarters.
“Breathe as much as you can now,” Lev said quickly. “Once we go under, it will be some time before we rise.”
How was I going to fill up on air? I couldn’t save it. And how was Brando going to swim with his hands and legs shackled, and with broken limbs?
Suddenly my head snapped backward as my hair was yanked. Fire broke out along my scalp. Flailing wildly, I finally connected with a face. Then she connected with mine, sending me backward against the deck rail.
Benedetta.
“I knew something wasn’t right!” she wailed. “You! You mousy bitch! You ruined this for us!”
Fabre dodged people, coming toward us with his gun drawn. Lev shot him twice before a bullet to the shoulder spun him around. Benedetta’s face changed so abruptly after she saw Fabre fall that I had only a second to prepare to defend myself before she charged.
She came at me hard, and as she did, I lifted myself, turning my body, doing a split in mid-air. As I twirled, my leg came up and slit her throat. She flew backward, and so did I—right over the railing.
I fell faster than I could’ve ever imagined. I had always assumed you floated down, like a feather. Not so. I hit with such a force that the breath was knocked out of me. Under the dark cover of water, bullets zoomed past, silver streaks creating bubbles from the velocity.
Someone was pulling me under. Lev. He held me around the waist, swimming as though his legs were made for water instead of land. Pressure continued to mount—my head became hazy, and my extremities went limp. I was about to black out.
Before I did, Lev started to rise to the surface, the pressure lightening, and just before we broke the Stygian barrier, the water seemed to tremble from deep below, as though some sea god had had enough of us trifling around and wanted us gone. Fireworks seemed to brighten the underworld—vibrant red and orange—as I gasped for breath. Sparks drifted down, feather like, settling on the water sometimes with a hiss.
Lev kept his hands around my waist as we both rocked in the sea, watching the spot where the yacht used to be.
“Mechanical difficulties,” he said in my ear, “are always a bitch.”
“Did—” I sucked in air and blew it out. “Did all our men make it out?”
“I believe so.” He wiped a hand down his face. “Come,zolotse. Boats are waiting.”
We caught up to groups of men clustered together, all alternately swimming and floating. Brando’s brothers had him secure between them, on his back, face above water, pulling him along.
Most of the men I didn’t recognize strayed toward the first boat. Valentina stood by the edge, waiting. We swam toward the second, where Uncle Tito waited anxiously. When he saw us, he shouted an order to other men aboard. Two men helped hoist Brando into the boat.
I cupped my hand over my mouth, shouting what I knew was broken. As if this alerted him, Brando started to groan and growl.
