Page 86 of Taking the Heat

By now, we had a pretty significant lead, so it didn’t seem to matter when I lost some time on the third station, where a giant waterfall whooshed down a tilted trampoline. I bounced and slid and scrambled my way to where the tags hung under the water flow, and let gravity carry me back towards the waiting jet ski.

Dante and Clara were both gaining on us. Dante was already about halfway along the trampoline as I drew close to him.

It wasn’t very mature, but when I slid past Dante, I kicked a leg out and connected with his, sending him crashing to the trampoline surface. Shrieking a litany of Italian curses, he lost significant ground, allowing Clara to scoot past him, while I giggled and sloshed back to the ski.

Henry set a speed record getting us to the final platform, a giant inflatable iceberg, but I knew I had to get the last marker as quick as I could.

There were small green handgrips on the side of the faux berg, and I clung to them for dear life as I ascended. My arms and legs were burning and ready to give way in exhaustion; in spite of my wetsuit, my skin stung from the dozen or so falls I’d taken on the previous station.

When I had almost reached the top, my hand slipped. My feet fell away and I hung on by one arm.

‘You can do it, Tara!’ Henry’s words of encouragement came at just the right moment. In a final, adrenaline-fuelled push, I latched back onto the iceberg and climbed, panting and heaving, over the top.

With the final tag safely in my hand, I gave Henry the thumbs up. ‘Meet me over here!’ I called, pointing to the beach side of the berg. Then, rather than climbing back down, I threw myself from the top.

With a heavy splash, water exploded around me, the sea sucking me down in a torrent of bubbles. I kicked for the surface, flicking my hair up as I broke through. I wiped my eyes and searched for my gallant knight on his yellow steed, ready to scoop me up and carry us home to victory.

Instead, I watched, helplessly treading water, as a black jet ski powered towards me at lightning speed. Over the handle bars, Dante’s face loomed, evil intent written in his eyes and a malicious grin twisting his lips in revenge.

He’s just trying to scare me. He’s not going to actually run me over.I tried to reassure myself, but as he sped closer, he didn’t slow down and didn’t turn aside. Dante was out for blood.

With the pointed prow of the ski only seconds away from my face, I realised it was hopeless. I threw my arms over my head and braced for the impact.

Chapter 27

Crash! Bang! Splash!

I fluttered my eyes open, shocked to be alive and uninjured. Chris was swimming towards me in powerful strokes.

‘Babe! Are you okay?’ His voice was filled with worry and care.

He reached my side and started to feel my skull, checking me. Despite the circumstances, I oozed into his hands, my skin delighting at his familiar touch. ‘I’m fine! What happened?’

Chris cupped his hands around my cheeks. ‘Thank god. I thought I wouldn’t make it in time.’

Past his shoulder, I could see Dante’s jet ski, empty and broken, with a massive gaping hole in the side where smoke poured out. A second jet ski floated nearby, its front end mangled. Dante was off in the distance, swimming for shore.

‘You rammed him? But, your ski?’

Other jet skis had arrived, roaring around us in the water, and Chris pulled me protectively to him. Henry appeared, navigating through the floating pieces of debris.

Chris called out, ‘Henry! Over here!’

‘What happened!’ he shouted, pulling up next to us.

‘Dante. Tried to run her over.’ Chris helped lift me, while Henry clasped my hands and pulled me onto the ski. ‘Quick, you guys,’ Chris pointed to the beach. ‘Get to the finish line!’

I didn’t even get a chance to say thank you before Henry hit the throttle and we streaked away towards shore. We easily passed Dante, flailing like a waterlogged poodle a few meters out from the breakers.

The jet ski slid smoothly up the beach. Henry helped me off, my shaky legs barely able to support me as we staggered up the sand. Unenthusiastically, we broke through the winner’s tape at the finish line. Drained and shivering, I dropped to the soft warm sand.

Miles moved forward to congratulate us, but Henry pushed past him. ‘Where’s the producer? You there, I’d like to report an incident, please.’ He pointed to the bedraggled Dante, making his way out of the surf. ‘That man tried to mow down my partner in the water. He’s a menace and he should be charged.’

The producer consulted his iPad. ‘Well, we’ll have to review the footage, and Maxine needs to be informed before we can get outsiders involved—’

‘Oh, sod it,’ said Henry, spinning, walking up to Dante and punching him square in the face.

Dante dropped like a puppet with the strings cut. ‘Owee!My nose! Somebody, call thepolitzia!I want that man arrested,pronto!’

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