Page 2 of Secrets (The Sins Trilogy 2)
If anything happens to her, I’m going to rip Sam to pieces with my bare hands.
Finally, Sam’s mansion comes into view. Gated, of course.
“What do you want to tell them?” TJ asks.
I squint at the fancy wrought iron. It’s designed to look impressive, not provide actual security. “Nothing. Step on it and drive through.”
TJ grunts.
The engine roars as the car accelerates. I brace myself. The SUV slams into the gates, breaking them. A corner of one of the gates hits the windshield, leaving a crack on the glass. TJ curses under his breath.
“Doesn’t matter.” A million Cullinans can’t equal Iris.
The car comes to a screeching halt in front of the mansion. I jump out, then leap up the steps, ready to tear the building apart for her.
A tall toothpick of a butler raises a hand, his florid face alarmed. “Sir, I must ask you to—”
“Fuck off.” I push him out of the way. “Iris!” I yell into the vast foyer. “Iris!”
“I’m calling the cops!” the man shrieks, his butler-ish dignity apparently forgotten.
I grab him by the back of his collar before he can run off. “Where’s Iris?”
He bristles. “I’m not saying anything to you, you…criminal!”
I bare my teeth. “You want to do this the hard way?” I raise my fist, ready to beat the answer out of him if that’s what it takes. I doubt Sam’s butler is as tight-lipped as my parents’ back in Tempérane.
“Ack!” He raises his palms in front of his face. “Not my nose!”
“Where is she?”
“By the pool in the back.” He gestures with a shaky hand.
Shoving him out of the way, I run down the hall. Sam and Iris are visible through the closed French doors. Relief almost makes me stumble. She’s still here. And she doesn’t seem hurt, but…
They’re sitting at the edge of the pool, him leaning back on his hands and her hunched over, a palm resting on one bent knee. Their feet are in the water, and Sam and Iris are both drenched. Son of a bitch. What the hell did he do?
Iris turns her head and says something to Sam. He stiffens, then shoves her hard into the water with both hands.
I see her reaction like a horror movie in slow motion. Panic and fear cloud her eyes. She flails, reaching for Sam, but her hands grasp nothing but air as she falls into the pool with a small splash.
What the fuck!
My heart racing, I pump my legs and arms faster. Sam stares at the surface, not moving. Not even blinking.
I burst through the doors and dive into the pool. Iris’s hair clouds around her as she jerks her head this way and that. Small air bubbles escape her nose and mouth as she flails her arms and her legs, but she’s sinking.
My blood runs cold. She can’t swim.
I wrap an arm around her and pull her upward. She thrashes a bit, her movements weak. Iris. It’s me. Just a little longer. I’m taking you out of here.
I repeat that in my head as though she can read my mind. I drag us out on the other side of the pool. I lay her on her back, then on her side, unsure what the hell I’m supposed to do to help her now that she’s out of the water.
“Iris, are you all right? Talk to me, babe.”
She gasps, then starts coughing violently, her whole body shaking. Did water get into her lungs?
Desperate to know how badly she’s hurt, I run my hands over her. She’s shivering badly, as though chilled to the bone. I don’t feel anything broken, and she isn’t crying out in pain. But what I’m doing is a crude check. She needs to see a doctor.
