He’s studying me with a hungry, intent expression. The whistling finally stops as his mouth breaks into a slight smile.
He’s been patiently waiting for this moment, looking forward to it, and now it’s only a matter of relishing it. I already know he likes to take his time.
I grit my teeth but refuse to look away.
My panic dulls into resolve as I realize with sudden clarity what I have to do.
I push the paddle I’ve been holding underwater, guiding it beneath the bottom of the raft, until I feel someone’s fingers grab hold of it.
I don’t need it anymore, but they might.
Making my decision, I angle my body parallel with the surface of the water, perpendicular to the raft—then push off the bouncy side as hard as I can, propelling my body into the current downstream.
“I’m gonna tell everybody how fuckingstupidyou looked emptying that groover, you worthless piece of shit,” I scream as I launch myself downstream.
I need all his rage directed at me when he decides what to do next. And every woman knows that the fastest way to enrage a man like that is with the idea of people laughing at him. “I’ll tell them how we all called you Flip-Flop! How you lost to all the girls at Fight Night!”
I know these might be my last words. I only hope that in my final moments, when that knife catches up with me, I’ll hear my husband’s voice one last time.
“Third Man Syndrome—where an unseen person provides protection and guidance during extreme crisis—has been documented by mountaineers, shipwreck survivors, and polar explorers. The phenomenon remains unexplained.”
—Beyond Belief: Acknowledging the Impossible
28
The only thing I know for sure is that I’ve made Leo angry.
“Bitch!” he curses as he plunges his oars into the water, rowing toward me like he’s going to hunt me down if it’s the last thing he does.
Exactly like I hoped.
As his hungry expression contorts with rage, his eyes dart between me and the overturned passenger raft. He definitely saw Pam slip underneath it. He probably figures that the other women are hiding there too, out of sight.
He knows they aren’t going anywhere but downstream—same as him, same as me. If he letsmeget away, though, I might have the smallest chance at slipping away while his attention is divided. And besides, he needs me to pay for what I just said to him about the groover and Fight Night. His face promises me that much.
I kick harder, pumping my arms through the water fast until the din of the whitewater ahead is so loud I can’t even hear my own labored breaths.
But I can still hear the slap of those gear-boat oars behind me, getting closer.
If he catches me before I hit this rapid, it will all be for nothing. He’ll kill me—and then still be able to turn his boat around and get the others, if he really leans on the oars.
“Swim, baby, swim,”Parker urges, his voice losing that calm, steady cadence for once. I realize he’s chanting in time with my breaths.
I’m past the minefield of boulders now, and the current grabs hold of me with a terrifying force, drawing me faster and faster toward the whitewater. I never could have imagined a scenario where I’d dive headlongintothe jaws of the frothing mouth ahead, but right now it’s all I’m focused on.
I have to make it there before I feel an oar against my head, or a knife in the sliver of neck exposed above my life jacket.
But anything is better than hiding under that raft with the others, waiting for him to pick us off one by one.
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll buy Allie and the others some time. If I can draw Leo downstream through this rapid, he won’t be able to get back to the others easily. He’ll have to wait them out. And then maybe they can manage to get the raft turned over, possibly even get past him and continue down the river.
They’ll have a shot at getting back home alive.
I can do that for them. I can give them a chance.
Despair and determination dig their claws into my back as I kick faster, angling for the wall of whitewater churning only a few feet ahead of me.
Impossibly, I realize that I’m going to make it. The current sucks me into the first wave with a rush of speed. The wall of whitewater lifts me up then pushes me hard underwater, sending another sizzle of adrenaline rushing through me.
