She wanted to beg for her life—or beg for a quick death—but she didn’t want to give Christopher the satisfaction. Besides, she had let her best friend die. If she had just waited for Erica…
A wave came, this time deeper, and Brynna’s full body was plunged under. She held her breath, her lungs screaming with the effort as the water seemed to recede more slowly. When it finally drew back, it licked at her right shoulder, splashed over the arch in her back.
“Won’t be much longer now.”
She felt Christopher’s foot dig underneath her again and she winced, holding her breath even as every inch of her exploded in pain. The wave crashed as he lifted her, and suddenly, she was weightless, free, being sucked into the surf.
The water crashed over her head and plunged her down. She tried to claw, to paddle, but her hands were bound uselessly behind her. The water swirled, and she kicked her legs together, trying to find ground, trying to find a way to push her head out of the surf. Tension burned all through her, the adrenaline breaking into a hot, coursing rush through her system.
She wasn’t going to die this way.
With a burst of strength that almost seemed otherworldly, Brynna cracked the zip tie that bound her ankles. The water sucked her in, disappearing behind her, spitting her out onto the rocky curve of shore.
She edged herself onto her feet, waves behind her, just in time to see Christopher rushing toward her, his face twisted in anger, his mouth open as he released a primitive scream that Brynna knew would stay with her whether she lived or died.
The waves crashed into her back and shoulders just as Christopher rushed her, knocking her hard against the water. She felt her whole body fly and then plunge back into the water, the rush of the ocean cruelly spitting her down. Her forehead hit the sandy bottom and she gasped, drinking in a mouthful of salt water. It burned her nostrils and felt as if it were searing its way through her body. Her lungs screamed. She kicked, trying to right herself—and then Christopher was on her. He yanked her up, and she began sputtering and coughing as the cool night air hit her cheeks. She gulped desperately, feeling her bruised ribs protest.
Christopher bear-hugged her and pulled back toward the shore, but he wasn’t fast enough. The water swelled and crashed over them, lifting them both, sucking them further out. She felt Christopher’s fingers digging into her flesh, then his fingernails as he tried to hold on to her. He was crashing into her, struggling against her, and Brynna remembered he couldn’t swim.
She took a chance, plunging into the surf, kicking toward the pier. Christopher’s grip on her tightened before the waves crashed again, breaking his hold on her. She was buoyed by the swell and shoved hard away from him. She thought of Erica, of the nights they had raced lane to lane, and dove hard, kicking until her legs burned and her heart hammered against her chest.
She didn’t know how far she swam, but when she turned, she saw Christopher go under, disappearing into the dark water. Behind him, an ambulance and a police cruiser roared down the beach, casting red and blue lights across the water. Suddenly there were people charging down the beach, and she could hear voices and sirens against the sound of the surf.
Brynna blinked, the feeling of déjà vu overwhelming her. Her whole body ached, heavy with effort, and her legs started to cramp. She felt her chin slip into the water.
“Brynna!”
She couldn’t recognize the voice. She thought maybe if she just closed her eyes… The water swirled around her ears, blocking out any sound. The water felt good, finally, caressing her, easing her into the tide.
It’s over now, she thought. It’s all over now.
The water lapped over her face and she slid down low, looking at the milky moon above her through the swirling, clear water. All the pain left her body. All the anxiousness, the stress—it was all gone, and she was going to keep her eyes closed and just rest, just rest for a minute or two.
NINETEEN
It was loud where Brynna was.
She could hear things humming and whirling, the rhythmic crash of the surf. And then a hand found hers and squeezed it gently.
“Can you open your eyes, Brynna?”
Brynna did as she was told, her eyelids fluttering open without much effort.
“Mom?”
Her mother smiled down on her then called over her shoulder, “She’s awake, Adam.”
Her father came through the door and went straight for Brynna’s other hand, holding it gently around the needle.
“Am I in the hospital?”
“You are, hon, but everything’s going to be okay. We can even take you home today.”
Brynna tried to sit up then blinked at the sea of flowers around her bed, balanced on the sideboard and meal tray. “What happened?”
“You nearly drowned.” Her father’s eyes were rimmed in red and his voice was soft.
“How did you know where to find me?”
“Evan did. When we couldn’t find you—when someone said you had gone off with friends—we called everyone in Point Lobos. Then we started with your friends in Crescent City.”