13. Roni

Diego went flying out of the room like a bat out of hell, and I still hadn't even had a moment to catch my breath. I was horny, confused, and now terrified. I pulled on my bra and then my shirt. I tugged on a sweater and jacket, just in case the boat really did go down.

The idea terrified me. I wasn't a strong swimmer, but I knew I'd want those layers if I found land somewhere remote. After they dried out, they'd be lifesaving. I looked at the package for the inflatable life vest Diego tossed my way. It was rated to hold afloat up to three hundred pounds. Meaning my shoes and the items I could carry wouldn't weigh me down. I stuffed extra socks and a pack of matches into the waterproof bag of MREs Diego tossed my way.

I glanced out the window and realized Diego wasn't kidding. The boat was approaching ours fast. There was no doubt we were their target. Were they going to try to crash the boat and sink us or just board? There was no telling at this point, and at least I was prepared for the first.

I started pushing the bed toward the door, and it took everything I had to move it just a few feet. The bed was a heavy solid wood, good to keep it from sliding around, and good for a barrier—but it was bad news for me. I didn't have enough strength to force it around like I needed.

Up above I heard a hard thud and a commotion as things hit the floor—my ceiling. Diego and the captain must have gotten into it, because we were the only ones on the boat. The other one still hadn't caught up with us. But its engine was loud in my ear; they were almost to us.

I nearly threw my back out dragging the bed to the door. When I got it in place, I gave myself exactly two seconds to take a deep, steadying breath. I needed to figure out my next move. I couldn't let Diego take on a boat full of bad guys himself. He was supposedly some badass, but I didn't like the odds of either of us making it out of this situation.

I grabbed my and Diego's bags, determined to find another knife, or even a gun. I could use one if the need arose, couldn't I? I'd have to.

His bag was stuffed full of survival clothing and gear. I grabbed two more knives and stuffed them into my waistband, and a pocket knife went into my boot. I felt like I was gearing up for a battle, and there should have been montage music in the background, thudding to the rapid rate of my heartbeat. Instead, there was just the sounds of the thuds upstairs and the groaning of an engine. I looked out the window and braced myself, because the incoming boat was coming in too fast to slow down. Either way, they planned to sink us.

The impact was jarring. I'd never been in a car accident, but I could imagine the whiplash was just as hard to the neck. I fell over, crashing against the wall and then floor. The boat hit the front side of our boat, closer to where Diego was upstairs. I didn't know a lot about boats, but I knew I had maybe minutes before our"s sank. It would be a wasted effort to move the bed to escape when that was the only thing that was going to keep me separate from the invaders.

The window.

I was going to have to get myself and our gear out of it and somehow keep it all afloat. I'd hate to think of trying to survive anywhere in the wilderness without it. I was determined to save it all. I reached into the bag that Diego pulled my inflatable life vest out of, praying he prepared for the worst and bought extra floats. There were three. A sigh of relief escaped my lips. The man really did come prepared.

I strapped the bags to the spare vests as quickly as I could, making sure I left the final vest free for Diego. For when he made it off the boat, not if.

Water started seeping underneath my door and covered the bottom of my shoes. The water was absolutely freezing—but it was my cue to get the fuck out of here. I opened the window and made sure no one on the other boat was watching. I didn't see a single soul, so they must all be on my boat. My gut sank for Diego.

Please be okay.

A strong hammering on the other side of the door startled me. "Which door is she behind?" an unfamiliar, gruff voice shouted.

"Just bust down both. She's gotta be in one!" another voice shouted.

Definitely my cue to nope out of here.

I pushed the first bag out of the window and pulled the cord. I heard the hiss of the vest inflating as it dropped toward the water. It made a splash that I hoped no one else heard. I immediately started on the second. Fists continued to pound against the door, and the bed made a groaning sound against the ground as it began to scoot inch by inch.

Fuck.

The second bag hissed as it inflated on its downward fall to the water. I held onto my backpack, because I'd be too big to fit through the window with it on. I stepped up onto the bench and stuck a leg out. I quickly realized I was never going to be able to duck through the window and fit. I was going to have to go out head first.

Fucking shit.

I pulled my leg back in and stuck out my arms with the bag, then my head and shoulders through the window. I used my legs to kick off the bench and wiggle out. My ribs and hips were on fire as they scraped up against the metal frame of the window.

I held my breath. I was airborne for the longest second of my life, and then I plunged into the icy-cold water. It was so cold it took my breath away. I hugged my bag tighter and pulled the string to my life vest. It hissed in my ear as it inflated. I strapped my backpack to my front and took one satisfied breath before my mouth filled up with water from a wave.

Around me there was nothing but water. My window had been facing west, so the shoreline was behind the boat and out of my sight.

I quietly doggy paddled toward our floating bags. While the life vest kept me afloat, my backpack added extra weight, which brought my ears below water at times. I had to tread water to push my ears above the surface. After fighting against the forces of density and mass, I was able to hear what was happening on the boat. So far, no one had noticed me in the water, but it was only a matter of time. I needed a way to make sure the fuckers couldn't get me. Even if it meant sabotaging our only way out of the water quickly. It was more important to make sure we couldn't be followed. If neither of us had a working boat, then we were on equal terms. I had no idea how to drive one, so hijacking their boat was out—if it was even working. All it would take was one asshole to spot me on their boat and I'd be done for; I wasn't going to make their job a fucking cakewalk.

Not going to happen.

I quietly paddled, pulling all of the gear behind me. With the current creating drag against the bags, it felt like there was two hundred pounds of gear behind me. It wasn't long before my legs began to burn from the effort.

My fingers finally landed on the metal of the ladder of our attackers' boat, and I let out a silent sigh. If I weren't freezing cold and already in water, I would be covered in sweat from exhaustion. I was conveniently near the motor, which would hopefully make it easier for me to disable the boat and then get as far away from it as possible.

I pulled myself out of the water slightly to get a better look at all the wires and shit connected to the motor. I shivered when the breeze coming off the water hit my skin. I was in trouble for hypothermia. I needed to get to dry ground or I was never going to survive, even if I did escape those trying to kidnap me.

I pulled a knife from my waistband and started hacking away at the handful of wires I gathered in my other hand. Red, white, yellow, blue—I didn't care what color. If it was in my reach, I sliced and diced it. Hopefully, it would be enough to strand the Geneva Project pricks for a while.

I lowered myself back into the water, and another round of shivers traveled up my spine. I moved to the motor prop and kicked it hard, over and over again. I felt the metal give way and bend, distorting the prop so that it would no longer turn. Now they were truly fucked.

When my pride faded, I felt a tiredness deep in my bones that I'd never felt before. It was the cold and exhaustion taking over. My adrenaline wouldn't keep me going forever.

It didn't matter; I just needed to get myself away from both boats and hope to God that Diego was still alive and could jump overboard. As I slowly kicked my way away from the boats, more of the deck became visible in the light from the setting sun. Soon it would be completely dark, giving me cover from any Geneva survivors, assuming Diego left any. But it also made us invisible to any rescue boats that might be coming for us.

Grunts, groans, and the sounds of brute force barely carried across the water's surface. They were almost drowned out by the sound of the water.

Diego was surrounded by three men. They all had guns aimed at him, and they were all shouting at him and each other. Diego held a gasoline canister, and he was emptying it at his feet, allowing it to splash onto the deck. I watched the gasoline run off the deck and down the side of the boat. When the gasoline stopped flowing, Diego hesitated, a lighter visible in his hand. He was going to turn the whole thing into a bonfire on the ocean. It would be the best distraction, and possibly his demise. He hesitated with the lit lighter in his hand. He kept screaming at the men, but his hesitancy wasn't making any sense. It was like he was stalling.

What was he waiting for?

He looked down behind him. Back up at the guys, then back down again.

Me. He's waiting for me.

"Diego!" I shouted from my spot in the water. His head snapped to the right. I saw the moment he realized I was floating out in the water, safe from what he'd been planning. I was too far away to know for sure, but I swore I saw him smile in a mad scientist–like way. He dropped the expensive-looking lighter, which remained lit, even as it dropped. His body pivoted and sprang forward in a surprising burst of power that I'd never witnessed in person before. He was like a lion leaping for its prey as he raced to escape the consequences of his actions. I held my breath as the gasoline ignited, and there was nothing but a line of flames and smoke that grew by the second. Diego's body arched into an impressive dive as he leaped over the side of the boat and then disappeared in the water.

I waited for what seemed like minutes, and he didn't come up.

The seconds dragged on agonizingly slow, but there was no sign of him. He had to be able to swim—I was sure of it. So where was he? There's no chance he met a shark down there, was there?

The shouts and shrieks coming from the boat temporarily caught my attention. I couldn't make out their words over the crackle of the fire. Their silhouettes were lost to me in the flames and smoke.

Something brushed up against my leg, and my heart threatened to climb up my throat and out my mouth, and I choked on a scream.