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Taking only the oxygen she needed, she lazily made her way to the surface, clearing her mind of all the horrible things she wanted to say to her dear friend. A few of Keaton’s well-placed angry retorts came to mind. She broke the ocean’s surface and swam about fifty feet away toward the boat. Mallary was already climbing onboard.
She reached the vessel, and her annoyance grew when her friend wasn’t on the back deck to give her ahand. Diving etiquette 101. She hoisted herself up, stood, and gasped, staring down at a masked man holding a shotgun at her chest. “What the hell?” she managed. “Where’s my friend? What have you done with my friend?”
“She’s right here.” Another man shoved Mallary toward the stern. She was still in her wetsuit, her mask on top of her head, but no flippers.
“You have something we want,” the man with the gun said.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Trinity swallowed, scanning left and right. There was no other boat in sight. But there had to be one somewhere. She lifted her gaze, but the man waved his weapon, forcing her focus back to him.
“Don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look,” he said.
The other man gave Mallary a good push. She let out a little scream.
“Give me the box,” the man with the gun said. “We know you found it.”
“We have to give it to them.” Mallary climbed onto the back deck. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, reaching for the bag. “They said they’d kill me.”
“It’s not your fault.” If these men didn’t shoot her first, Keaton was sure to for what she was about to do. “Swim under the boat,” she whispered. She yanked off her tank and leaned over the back bench, holding her breath. With one hand, she grabbed the half-full tank she had as a spare and flung the empty one at the man with the gun.
Bang!
A sharp pain tore through her shoulder. She ignored it and shoved Mallary into the water, flopping in right after her. As quickly as she could manage, she strapped on the tank while swimming under the boat, searching for her friend.
Pop! Pop!
The sound was muffled. But she knew it was the rifle. Bullets tore through the open water, zipping only a few feet from her body.
She continued to search for Mallary, pausing briefly. No sign.
More bullets.
Her heart raced. Panic engulfed her entire being.
She shoved the regulator into her mouth and dove straight down, glancing up every few minutes, trying to gauge sixty feet.
A couple more bullets. Bubbles zipped by one foot from her head.
Shit. That was close.
A splash from above.
A diver.
She hit what she believed was sixty feet and went horizontal, leaving behind a trail of blood. She gave herself a few minutes to adjust, then dove deeper. She kept doing that until she found a cave at the bottom. She slinked inside and hid, checking her oxygen tank. Tears burned her eyes.
What had happened to Mallary? Had she resurfaced? Had they shot her? Pulled her onboard? Oh God, what had Trinity done?
Surely, if she’d stayed onboard, they both would’ve been dead. But that didn’t make her feel any better.
She checked her tank, and that’s when she realized that, unless those men had brought scuba equipment onboard, they weren’t chasing her because all her other tanks were empty. Inching out of the cave with her shoulder throbbing, she made her way to the surface.
The sun smacked her face. She lifted her mask and spun herself in a circle. Her boat was gone. There was no sign of it—or anyone—in sight. She was miles from shore. It was close to dark.
She might as well be dead in the water.
CHAPTER 5
Keaton wiped his eyes.They burned from the salty sea air. Or maybe the few tears he desperately tried not to shed. He panned the spotlight. Back and forth. Left and right.