Page 31 of Risky Passion

And when they do, they won’t just kill me. They’ll make me suffer.

I clenched my jaw, trying to crush the fear rising in my chest.

No. Don’t think like that. Just keep going.

Ahead, a break in the trees revealed a strip of water shimmering faintly in the dim light. Could I cross it? Would it slow them down? I didn’t have time to think. Without any other choice, I plunged into the water.

The warm swamp was thick with sludge, and the bottom sucked at my feet like quicksand. The sudden resistance knocked me off-balance, and the filthy water surged up to my thighs. Pain shot through my dislocated finger as I tried to catch myself, and the impact sent blazing agony up my arm.

Move. Keep moving.

I clawed forward through the swamp, dragging myself with my good hand, scraping at slick moss for purchase while cradling my mangled finger against my chest. Bullets hissed overhead, slicing through the air and ripping into leaves and branches on the far bank. The ground beneath me gave way, and the water crept higher, up to my hips, then my waist.

Shit! It’s deeper than I thought.

My pulse hammered in my ears. My breaths were frantic gasps. Every step felt like a losing battle against the swamp, and the muddy water conspired to drag me under.

One of the men’s voices ripped through the air behind me, sharp and furious.

Their footsteps pounded against the mud, too close. Way too fucking close. My heart threatened to explode in my chest.

I have to get out of this creek. I’m a sitting duck here.

The warm, dark water lapped at my waist, and my skin crawled with dread. My mind flashed to the crocodile. The beast’s cold, dead eyes and razor-sharp teeth, and the violent death roll. The memory scraped at my sanity, threatening to paralyze me.

A sob burned in my throat, but I bit down on it hard, clenching my jaw.

I forced my legs to move, but with the next step, the water surged higher, rising to my chest. Panic twisted in my gut.

I’m going to die. I’m going to die!

Another gunshot cracked through the air, but this one was different. Sharper. Precise. Deliberate.

A scream tore through the swamp behind me. I twisted my head just in time to see one of the attackers jerk backward, arms splayed wide as he slammed into the mud with a sickening thud, motionless.

The second man burst through the undergrowth. He squatted beside the fallen body. Another figure emerged behind him, and their voices erupted into shouts of raw rage that told me the man on the ground was not getting back up.

Sheer terror threatened to consume me as I tried to process what the hell had just happened.

Who took that shot? Where did it come from?

A man’s shout filled the air, sharp and venomous as the bastards opened fire again.

Gasping, I ducked lower into the water until it lapped at my neck. The foul sludge clung to my skin like a second layer. Bullets hissed overhead, closer now, splintering through the bushes and tearing into the trees. Each crack of gunfire seemed closer than the last.

A loud bark cut through the chaos, deep, sharp, commanding.

Was that a dog? My breath hitched, and my pulse thundered in my ears as panic and hope warred within me.

What the hell is going on?

With trembling hands, I scrambled toward the bank with my feet slipping and sliding on the muddy bottom. My mind reeled, trying to make sense of the chaos.

Another gunshot blasted through the air, sharp and clean like the first one.

“Tory!”

The voice hit me like a lightning strike. My heart exploded in my chest.

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