Page 152 of Risky Obsession

My fingers reached the top lip, and as I pulled myself up, my hips scraped up the rough sides of the shaft. The space was tiny, sucking the air from my lungs. My eyes blurred with anger and fear.

“Good work.” Kane’s muffled words reached me.

The narrow space closed in on me, growing tighter by the second, and my ear drums felt like they were going to explode. I wriggled my hips but couldn’t move.

“I’m stuck.” Clenching my teeth, I pulled harder. “Push me up, Kane.”

Kane grabbed my ankles and shoved.

Biting down on my fury, I gripped the edge, and fighting the demons clawing at my sanity, I pulled myself up. I wriggled my elbows out and my body scraped up the walls. With a final heave, I hauled myself from the tight squeeze.

Jumping to my feet, I grabbed two copper pipes and raced back to the hole in the floor.

I peered down into the dim shaft and my heart nearly exploded. Kane’s hand was the only part of him above the water.

I fed one pipe down the shaft. He gripped it and his hand vanished beneath the water.

“Oh God. Please. Please.”

A squirt of water burst from the pipe, and a sharp hiss confirmed he inhaled. His hand reappeared and he gave me a thumbs up. In just those few seconds, the water level reached the top of his outstretched fingers.

As I lowered a second pipe into the shaft, the last of him vanished beneath the murky water.

The water rose up the shaft, coming at me like a liquid bullet.

It reached the top and spilled over the edge onto the concrete floor. But thankfully Kane’s breathing pipe was eight inches above the waterline.

I tapped his pipe with my fingernail, and a muffled groan came up the tube as he tried to talk to me.

“Jesus.” He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. Repeating the mantra, I forced myself to get moving.

My heart pounded in my chest as I grabbed another pipe for a weapon and dashed to the edge of the door. I scanned the submarine pen area.

A tiny red glow near the mechanics bay along the far concrete pontoon caught my eye as it moved in a slow arc downward.

It’s the tip of a lit cigarette.

“There you are, you fucker,” I whispered.

As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit submarine bay area, the man appeared in a beam of sunlight. He had broad shoulders and a red tinge to his hair. He must be the asshole who attacked us at the first hotel.

He shifted off the wall, and as he strolled along the platform, walking away from me, his hand was against his ear.

He’s on his phone.

I had to take him now, while he thought I was drowning in that room.

I peered around the corner and my heart skidded to a halt. A massive hole had been blasted into the platform. Chunks of concrete covered the area, and twisted metal stuck out of the edges like a monster had burst out of the ground. Water lapped at the edges of the giant hole.

That explained how the underground room flooded.

But why would he go to that much trouble, when he could have just killed us to get the gold?

The stench of smoke and scorched metal filled my nostrils as I searched for the asshole. He was still strolling along the platform like he had all the time in the world. He yelled so loudly at whoever was on the end of the phone that his voice bounced around the submarine pens like rolling thunder.

Gripping the copper pipe, I sprinted at the blast hole in the concrete. At the last second, I jumped over the water and landed on the other side. With adrenaline and pure fucking rage feeding my veins, I ran like a bullseye was on my back to the rear of the mechanics shed.

My wet shoes squelched, and my pace matched the thundering beat ofmy heart as I kept one eye on the asshole. The pipe felt good in my hand, yet I wished I had my gun. I would shoot that asshole in his back if I had to.