Page 49 of Deadly Ruck
"Every word," my brother said in the earphone in my ear.
Skinner stared at me for a moment in horror. "You fucking bitch!" He threw the clipboard aside and lunged at me, sending us both flying into the pool.
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chelsea
I hitthe water with a splash.
Skinner landed beside me. He reached for me. Grabbed me by the front of my shirt and pulled me toward him.
I kicked out at him, one shoe connecting with his knee before falling off my foot. I made a grab for his hands and dug my nails into his skin. They slipped and slid before scraping hard enough for him to grunt in pain.
He loosened his grip and went for my throat instead. Wrapped his large, wet hands around my neck. Squeezed.
I kicked at him with the other foot. Kicking and kicking and digging my nails in deeper.
I was already starting to feel lightheaded. If I didn't get a breath soon, I'd drown before he strangled me.
I kicked with everything I had. Let go of him and pushed through the water, trying to get to the surface. I managed to stick my face out and suck in a breath of precious air before he dragged me back under again.
I curled my fingers around his and tried to pull them off my throat. They wouldn't budge. They were tight around my neck like he was fused there. Like a collar with no hinge.
Fuck.
Don't panic,I told myself.The minute you panic, you're dead. If you die, they win.
Fuck that.
I gave up trying to dislodge him and wrapped my own around his neck instead. My teeth clenched, I heaved and rolled us over so he was below me, under the water. Every so often, I was able to find the surface and gasp for air. It wasn't enough. The pressure on my throat was too great.
My vision was starting to turn black.
He can't win.
With everything I had, I pulled him sideways, trying to ram his hand into the side of the pool. The water slowed the momentum, making the slam a little more than a tap. He barely would have felt it, certainly not enough to knock him loose.
Oh great, I was going to die here. I'd already had a bad enough week as it was. Did it really have to end this way? To say it sucked was an understatement. After everything I'd gone through with my guys, it was bullshit.
Yes, we considered the possibility things might go this way before I confronted him here. I mean, bad guy, water. We'd be crazy if we didn't consider it. At some point, we'd all thought about doing the same to him. This was probably his idea of a wet dream. So to speak.
We’d planned for this, though. A couple of the guys were supposed to be close. Close enough they could pull me out quickly if I went in.
Not close enough, apparently. No, I was going to drown. They wouldn't reach me in time. They were going to be devastated. Hell, I was devastated. The fact they were going to rip Skinner apart was no consolation for dying like this. Nothing would be. This was a million kinds of fucked up. I took some solace in knowing they'd bring down King and the wholenetwork of exploitation and violation of women. At least my death wouldn't be for nothing.
The guys might not see it that way for a while though. They were going to?—
Skinner's grip went slack before dropping away from me.
What the hell?
At the same time, a firm grip circled my wrist and pulled me up, all the way out of the water, to the side of the pool. Dripping and gasping, I was lowered down to the floor, where I collapsed in a heap. I didn't know how long I lay on the pebbled tiles, gasping for breath, trying to clear my head. As far as I would could tell, I wasn't dead. Unless the other side looked a lot like being alive. Judging by the way my lungs hurt, I was very much not dead.
"Chelsea?"
That was Ramsey's voice.
I coughed a couple of times. "I'm okay," I managed to say. My voice was strained, but I could form those words. "I'm okay."
