Page 50 of Pretty Vengeance (Knights of Wrath #2)

50

SAWYER

A crashing sound makes me jerk up in bed.

For a second, I’m not sure if I heard something or dreamed it.

When I remember what was happening before I laid down, all my uneasiness comes rushing back. I climb from bed and walk to the window to look outside.

It takes a moment for me to process that Jamie’s passed out—or something. My breath catches. He’s half on the end of a lounger that has one side cocked into the air from him landing on it.

Sucking in a startled breath, I scan the area. From several feet away, my dad wobbles toward Jamie.

What the fuck is happening?

Nothing good, that’s for sure. My body lurches into motion. I need to get down there.

I rush from the room and down the stairs. Flinging the back door open, I propel myself outside.

Across the yard, my dad rolls Jamie over onto the lip of the pool. The lounger bangs back to the ground.

My dad doesn’t notice me as I hurry toward them, so he continues, swaying unsteadily as he pulls Jamie onto his side so he’s perched on the edge. Is he going to dump him in the fucking water?

“Stop!”

Dad’s head jerks up to look at me as Jamie’s body falls into the pool with barely a splash.

I rush forward and jump in. The water resists my running through it, and I have to swim. Jamie’s sinking body is halfway to the bottom of the deepest point in the pool.

There’s a loud splash as my dad jumps in, too.

I dive and grab Jamie’s arm under the shoulder. As I’m dragging him to the surface, my dad’s leg blocks our ascent.

Not wanting to waste time fighting against Dad’s interference, I drag Jamie in the other direction. I expect my dad to grab us and prevent me from pulling away, but thank God, he doesn’t.

When I reach the shallow end, I get my feet under me. As I stand, I move my chest under Jamie’s back so I can prop his head and neck above the surface.

My dad swims to the edge of the pool, but his attempts to climb out fail. I guess he’s extremely drunk. Lucky for me.

I manage to lay Jamie on the steps. His blue lips make my heart clench. What the hell? Is he dead?

I pinch his nose and blow breath into his mouth. There’s so much resistance it’s hard to get air into him. My seal on his mouth keeps breaking, so my breath escapes rather than going into his lungs.

Come on! I knee him in the side, trying to wake him as I continue to do my best to breathe life back in.

After a minute or two, I feel my breath being sucked inward. It’s faint, but he’s trying to breathe. I raise my head a couple of inches. His color is less blue.

“Jamie?”

His body twitches, but he doesn’t draw a new breath. I give him a couple more of mine, my heartbeat hammering in my throat. Why isn’t he breathing? There’s no blood or sign of injury. He looks perfect.

But he’s dying.

His body tries to slide down the steps, and I have to stop rescue-breathing long enough to drag him back up.

Motion at the edge of my vision causes my eyes to jerk in Dad’s direction. He pulls himself along the edge of the pool from the deep to the shallow end. He’s only a few feet from us. I swear to God if he tries anything I will shove him under the water.

“What did you do to Jamie?”

My dad ignores my yelled question. Wobbling, he claws his way up the steps on his hands and knees. When he’s out, he shoves his foot against Jamie’s shoulder and pushes. He’s trying to get Jamie back underwater.

My screech is more animal than human. I rise up over Jamie and slam my palms against my dad, causing him to fall onto the cement like a fish flopping onto the deck of a boat.

I shove his leg away from us. Fortunately, my dad’s push was too weak to move Jamie, whose muscles are heavy, especially since he’s dead weight.

As I lean over him and press my lips against his, I feel his mouth move under mine. Jerking my head up, I watch his lids flutter open.

Jamie pulls a deep breath in, and his brows pinch together in confusion. His body shifts under mine. In a hoarse voice, he mumbles, “Sauce?”

“Jamie, oh, my God. Can you get up?”

His head lolls slowly to the side and he looks around, his eyes squinting as he tries to focus. Dropping his hands underwater, he pushes off the steps to sit upright. My hands dart out to steady him as he sways.

“Feel strange.” Shaking his head to clear it, he half crawls, half climbs up the steps. “Am I drunk?” he slurs.

As I help him, I spot a piece of plastic clinging to the skin between his shoulder blades. I think it’s garbage that blew into the pool, but when I have to tug to pull it free, I realize there’s adhesive around the edges.

Jamie looks over his shoulder.

I jerk it off his back and hold up the clear plastic. “What is this?”

He turns and leans over. Just as I read the word Fentanyl, my dad launches himself forward, slamming into me.

I fall backward, crashing into the water and landing on the bottom of the pool with him on top of me. A moment later, Dad is jerked off and Jamie lifts me up.

Sputtering, I blink water from my eyes.

Jamie twists to set me on my feet on the steps but stays where he is. After a beat, I realize he’s standing on one foot and has the other planted in the middle of my dad’s chest, holding him underwater.

“Jamie.”

His determined, dark scowl sends chills through me.

My hand touches his arm in a bid to influence him. To pull him back to reality. “You can’t. It’s too dangerous.” I’m not worried about my dad anymore. I just don’t want Jamie to end up in jail for killing him. “Security cameras,” I whisper. “I don’t know where they’re positioned.”

Removing his foot slowly, Jamie stares down through the water at my father.

When Dad rises to the surface, he backpedals away from us. His chest heaves as he splutters for breath.

With a look of disgust, Jamie stalks up the steps. His hand catches my forearm as he passes and tugs me along with him.

Because of the adrenaline overload, I don’t realize how cold I am until I’m inside the warm house. As I start to shiver, Jamie guides me upstairs. We track wet footprints as we walk, and I rub my arms.

“Do you use Fentanyl pain patches?” I ask.

“No.” His frown deepens. “He slapped me on the back when I came outside. Played it off as a friendly gesture. Smart of him to smack that hard. Didn’t feel that he’d stuck something on me. He’s got fucking balls. I’ll give him that.”

I stop at a window to look outside. My dad has lain down a few feet from the door. “What’s he doing?”

Jamie glances out and exhales a small, humorless laugh. “Maybe he’ll fucking freeze to death.” Turning to me, he says, “Take a shower, Sauce. Get warm.”

I follow him into the bathroom where he strips out of his wet boxer-briefs and hangs them on a towel rack. After grabbing a towel, he locks the door before he walks out, still naked.

Deciding I’m too cold to do anything other than what he suggested, I step into the stall and turn on the water.

What the fuck is happening to my life? Now my dad is a murderer, too?

I just can’t process this… Our entire life was a lie.