Page 35 of Perfect Liar

I extended my arms and took in another deep breath.

But then I couldn’t exhale.

A thick arm snaked around my neck.

British-accented words ordered me not to move.

Cold steel touched my neck.

My body and my mind failed.

I couldn’t move.

I couldn’t think.

The man behind me pressed his mouth against my ear while holding his knife at my throat.

He slogged through the waves, dragging me in deeper.

Blood pulsed violently through my veins.

Pain twisted inside my chest.

He gathered my hair in his other hand, wrapping it around his fist, yanking on it.

“You keep your mouth shut.”

I still held my breath, and my lungs burned, pleading for me to use them. When I exhaled, a sharp inhale quickly followed my choking gasps, then I screamed.

He yanked on my hair.

“Shut your fucking mouth, bitch.”

My blurred vision improved with oxygen filling my lungs.

I heard the respiration and the thumping of my heart inside my ears. It grew louder.

I could no longer hear the crash of waves.

The man moved us out into even deeper water.

His voice, grunts, seemed like distant echoes in my head.

A wall of waves rolled in, and I stumbled on a slimy rock, losing my balance. I fell, and the force of the undertow pulled me under and out of his grasp.

But he leaped over the waves and caught hold of me again.

I gulped air and vomited seawater. Brine burned through my sinuses.

A cruel laugh burst out of the hit man. He jerked my body around and wrenched my head back using my hair.

Pain shot through my neck, through my scalp.

He planned to drown me.

It was my turn to die.

He plunged my head under the water.