Daimon has been holding her hostage in the same basement where my parents raised me.
Daimon saved my life by referring me to Highland medical clinic.
Daimon arranged the attack so that he could save my life and gain my trust.
Nick showed up on the island at the same time as me and he carries a gun.
Nick is a bounty hunter.
I am pregnant with Daimon’s child.
Daimon risked his life to save me when I came out of the clinic yesterday.
Daimon loves me.
I love Daimon.
Everything Daimon told me adheres to the truth as I know it. Then it must stand to reason that he told the truth when he said he killed my father in self-defense. And it must also be true that Nick is a bounty hunter.
“We should arrive at Tenerife in fifteen minutes,” Nick shouts at me.
I stare at him in silence as I try to formulate a response that will pacify him. He can’t know that I’m onto him. But I’m just so angry; at him and at myself.
“Did you hear me?” he shouts as I continue to glare at him.
How could I be so stupid? Because Nick had me convinced that he accepted me as I was, discoloration and all? He preyed on me at a time when I was vulnerable. Still reeling from Daimon’s possible death, I was prime for him to sweep in with his sword and shining armor and rescue me.
I am not a damsel in distress.
“Alex!” He shouts my name and it takes him a few seconds before his eyes widen when he realizes his blunder.
He’s not supposed to know my real name.
Chapter Four Alex
Nick narrows his eyes at me and I keep my gaze locked on his gun, bracing myself for him to make a move. As soon as his arm twitches, I land a lightning fast jab to his bicep, sending his Glock whizzing through the air and into the ocean. I throw another jab at his left cheek and he dodges it.
“You bitch!” he roars as he grabs my right arm.
I kick my knee up toward his crotch and he jumps sideways so the blow lands on his hip. He attempts to retrieve a set of handcuffs from his pocket, but I karate chop his forearm and he drops the cuffs onto the floor of the boat.
I twist my arm around until he’s behind me and I attempt to elbow him with my left arm, but he’s standing too far to the right for me to reach him. I stomp on his right foot then throw my head back to headbutt him just as he doubles over from the pain in his foot. The blow to his head dazes me for a moment. Just long enough for him to tackle me.
He lands on my back as I’m laid out halfway across the bench seat, the other half of my torso hanging over the back railing of the boat. I reach back, trying to get a grip on his nostrils or poke him in the eyes, but his head is flailing. He grunts as he squirms on top of me, trying to push me farther over the railing. At least, I think that’s what he’s trying to do until I hear the sound of his shoe scraping around the floor of the boat. He’s trying to get the cuffs.
My left arm is pinned between the railing and my abdomen. He has a firm grip on my right wrist. My only leverage here is to attempt to roll over, so his back is pinned against the railing. Or, if I can wrench my wrist free, I can try to throw him overboard.
“You don’t need to do this, Nick!” I shout. “I’ll go with you freely! If you just tell me where you’re taking me!”
His laughter shrieks in my ear. “You think I’m going to fall for that? Aha!” he exclaims as the soft clink of handcuffs breaks through the roaring airstream.
I have to headbutt him again, even if it means I may knock myself out. I bow my face forward and throw my head back. This time I hear an audible crunch when the back of my skull makes contact with his nose.
He releases me immediately and I flip over onto my back. My hands grasp the railing for support as I lift my leg and land a hard blow to his crotch with the bottom of my foot. He flies backward, landing on top of the driver. The boat swerves wildly to the left and I hold on for dear life as I watch Nick nearly get thrown overboard.
The driver shouts at us as he gains control of the boat. Nick’s nose pours blood as he gazes into the water, then at his empty hand. He lost the handcuffs. I stand up straight to face him and his hand disappears behind his back.
Disarm. Disable. Disengage.
Those are the three tenets of combat my father pounded into me. The only way to disengage on a speedboat is to throw your opponent overboard… or kill them.
Sorry, Nick.
“You’re going down!” I shout as he pulls his hand out from behind his back brandishing a shiny knife.
I kick my leg out to disarm him, but he’s quick. He lunges toward me and I feel the knife go into my side. The same side where I was stabbed just a few weeks ago. The pain is beyond excruciating. But I maintain enough wits to grab his wrist, twist his arm around, and bring my elbow crashing down on his elbow.
The gruesome crunch of his arm breaking is enough to make me sick to my stomach. But I can’t help but laugh as he drops to his knees and howls in pain as his arm hangs limply at his side. He reaches for the blade he dropped, but I land a hard knee to his jaw.
He’s dazed for a few seconds and I take the opportunity to pick up the knife. But he’s not giving up. He lumbers to his feet and lunges for me, his good arm outstretched. I move out of the way easily, but he manages to reach up and grab a fistful of my hair, pulling me down on top of him as he falls onto the bench seat.
I elbow him in the gut and he responds by locking his good arm around my throat. He knows what he’s doing because my eyes begin to prickle and I can’t breathe. I wrap my fingers tightly around the handle of the blade and drive it into his thigh.
He releases his grip on me while shouting curses, but I don’t wait for him to come at me again. I reach forward, twisting my fingers into his hair to get a firm grip before I slash the knife from one side of his neck to the other.
His body goes limp immediately as blood spurts out of his throat and all over my face and chest. I grab his legs and struggle a bit, but I manage to get him overboard in a few seconds.
I turn around to face the driver and the boat begins to wobble beneath me. But I don’t think it’s the boat moving. I’m going to pass out.
He’s shouting at me in Spanish. I don’t know what he’s saying, but he’s pointing at the pool of blood on the floor of the boat. He’s angry. His eyes flit toward the knife in my hand then back to the woozy look on my face.
Suddenly, he reaches for the knife, but I throw a quick jab to his throat and an elbow to his temple. He’s out.
The boat begins to slow as I heave him out of the drivers’ seat. I sit down in his place, one hand on the steering wheel, the other applying pressure to my knife wound. I need to get to Tenerife fast or I’m going to pass out and die in the middle of the Atlantic Ocean.
I push down the gas pedal, but the boat doesn’t seem to be moving fast at all. Maybe he’s running out of gas. Or maybe… maybe I’m already dead.
Chapter Five Daimon
If two speedboats with varied horsepower set off into the water at the same time, at full speed, the one with more power will always win. This boat has doomed me. But I cannot give up. I may arrive in Tenerife minutes behind Nick and Alex, but I should get a signal on my phone by the time they reach the shore ahead of me. Then I can call an associate in the city to head them off.
I glance back and forth from the dark, shimmering water ahead of me to my phone in my hand, waiting for the moment my cell is close enough to the island to get some reception. At last, a single bar appears on my phone and I begin dialing the number for Antonio.