The water rises torturously slowly when it reaches my face, although that’s probably because I’m much more aware of it now. As it crept over my body, I allowed my mind to drift, but now it’s right in my face and there’s no avoiding my impending death.
Noah didn’t return.
Did Cormac kill him? Maybe he forgot about me.
Maybe he’s still looking.
This is all my fault.
My body grows numb from the chill of the water, but not enough that I don’t feel the pain each time I try to breathe deeply. My bruised ribs complain with every full breath I attempt to take as the water creeps up my cheeks. Soon, even tilting my head back to look straight up fails to save me from the water line. It caresses me like the icy, dead hands of a lover and with one final breath, the water closes over my head.
I blink weakly through the hazy liquid, holding my breath as tightly as I dare. There’s a small voice in my head telling me to give in. To just breathe and die quickly so that this will all be over.
I couldn’t even if I wanted to.
Something stops me—survival instinct, I suppose. My chest remains tight, and it begins to burn. My abdomen pulls inward as my body battles with itself, fighting the instinctual need for air with the instinctual response to not breathe underwater. My lungs burn, and my throat grows incredibly tickly, giving me an overwhelming urge to cough.
But I can’t.
Heat stings behind my eyes, and a final, aching pulse of defeat comes with it. I’d cry, but my tears are lost to the water.
I thought Cormac would find me.
As I cling to my last few seconds, the roaring of my struggling pulse fills my ears and my head throbs painfully. My cheeks bulge and my body screams in strain. Then I give in as the last of my air escapes in tiny bubbles past my lips.
I try to.
The moment I part my lips, warm hands clutch at my face and a familiar set of lips presses against mine. They close over my mouth, creating a seal, and suddenly, air is being forced past my lips and into my lungs. I blink furiously through the murky water, trying to get a glimpse of who is here, but it’s so dark that I can’t make out any details.
Maybe this is death and I’m dreaming because the mouth and hands vanish after granting me a few precious seconds of air. I cling to it because my body craves life even if my soul accepts defeat. Then the mouth is back, and I know that mouth. I know that mouth so well.
Another kiss of life, another forceful rush of air, and I gain another few seconds. Then more.
It’s the most painful thing I’ve ever experienced. Clinging to the minute oxygen gifted to me from someone else’s lungs while every muscle in my body is locked rigid on the brink of death. These precious few seconds stretch on for an eternity. My head swells as if it’s about to explode like an overblown balloon, and the pain in my ribs grows sharp and prominent.
I can’t do this.
I close my eyes.
“Evie? Come on, Evie, wake up, baby. Please, open your eyes. Wake up. Wake up!”
I do.
My eyes snap open as water bubbles from my lips. I cough weakly, and my body convulses in the firm, chilled arms of the man I love. It feels like a dream. It must be a dream because how can Cormac be here?
“Evie,” he gasps, water dripping from his hair like a faucet. “Oh, my God, you’re alive. You’re alive!” He pulls me close, tucking me to his chest and pressing his lips to my forehead. “I’m so sorry, I’m so fucking sorry!”
I cough again, flaring hot pain in my raw throat. I feel like I’ve just run a marathon at top speed and everything inside me is raw and inflamed. But Cormac is here, and suddenly, it doesn’t matter.
“Cormac,” I croak, and he relaxes his grip so I can look up at him. “You came for me.”
“I did,” he says hurriedly. “I did. I’m here. You’re safe, baby. You’re safe. The water’s draining. You’re safe. I’m right here.”
The edges of my vision are fuzzy, making Cormac look like he’s on the other side of warped glass, and my heart aches with each beat in my chest. Lifting one cold hand, now free from its bonds, I cup his wet cheek.
“I love you,” I say, and then darkness descends like a warm blanket.
“He’s really dead?”
Several hours later, I perch on the edge of a hospital bed with a mug of cocoa clasped in my hands. Despite the layers of dry clothing, blankets, and heaters, there’s still a chill in my bones that I can’t shake. Cormac sits on the chair in front of me, his hands slowly rubbing my legs as he nods.
“He’s dead.” He glances at the stranger in the corner with olive skin and dark, black hair. “Rocky killed him.”
“Thank you,” I say to Rocky.
He tips his head as if removing an invisible hat and places one hand over his heart. “The least I could do.”
“Did you get a chance to talk to him?” My attention slides back to Cormac. “About anything?”
“No.” Cormac abruptly shakes his head. “Fucker had only one intention.”
“I’m so sorry,” I gasp, reaching for one of Cormac’s hands. “That’s my fault. I was taunting him because he was talking about Holly and I thought if I tricked him to go and find you, you’d be able to find me.”
“Why are you apologizing?” Cormac’s brows knit together. “You did the right thing, sweetheart. You were amazing.”
I don’t feel amazing because the weight of the truth suddenly rests on my shoulders. I don’t want to hurt Cormac, but I know what I’m about to share will only cause him pain.
“He… Noah, he told me about Brenden.”
Cormac’s hands pause on my legs and he looks up at me with dark eyes. “Did he tell you why?”
I nod, hiding my trembling lower lip behind a sip of the hot drink. Rocky shifts off the wall, crossing his arms tight across his chest so his biceps bulge. He looks like he’s preparing himself for Cormac lashing out. They both likely still suspect this was some big ploy for power.
Somehow, it’s so much sadder knowing it’s not.
“He did kill Brenden,” I say as softly as I can, stroking Cormac’s knuckles. “But not for any kind of power play or anything like that. He said that years ago, he’d worked on a deal to bring Cartel weapons into the family and he was going to make his boss really proud. But before he could, the Irish swept in with their deal and created that treaty.”
Rocky frowns deeply. “The Mexican Cartel? We would never make such a deal.”
I can only shrug. “That’s what he said. He said he had some plan but that the Cartel took his sister. Or he sold her. He wasn’t exactly clear.”
A flash of recognition washes over Rocky’s face. “Oh, my God. I remember that. At least, I remember his sister. He came to us begging for help, claiming that someone had kidnapped his sister. He pointed fingers at the Irish and the Russians, but we later found out she’d died overseas and he went quiet. If he sold her to the Cartel…” Rocky grimaces and his face pales a few shades. “Fucker.”
“He was mad about that and blamed the Irish. And then he fell in love with Holly, but she dumped him, and when he saw her with Brenden, he became convinced that Brenden was out to screw him over. That the deal was to ruin him and then stealing his girl was another move against him.”
“Fucker was delusional,” Rocky mutters. “Absolutely psychotic.”
“They argued about it. He said Brenden kept brushing him off as unimportant, so he got him to meet him for one final showdown and then…” I don’t need to fill in the gaps. We all know what happened next. Given Cormac’s description of the fight with Noah, it’s not difficult to envision how that weasel of a man was able to tackle Brenden and slit his throat.
The thought makes my blood run cold, and a shiver moves through my body, eased by Cormac’s grip tightening on my leg. He hasn’t spoken, merely staring past me into the distance as he listens.
Silence falls and I study his face, catching the pain in his eyes and the subtle downturn of his lips.
“So,” Cormac says eventually, his voice gravelly from unshed emotion. “He murdered Brenden, not because he wanted more power for his family, not because he was under orders from the Don, and not because he was planning some insane move. He killed him because—” Cormac cuts himself off.
His hand trembles beneath mine, so I tighten my grasp to try and soothe him.
“Somehow, this is worse,” Cormac mutters brokenly. “He didn’t die for a reason. Not a real reason. He was just…” His head falls forward, dipping between his shoulders.
“I’m sorry,” Rocky says, and he sounds like he genuinely means it.
“I nearly started a war, nearly burned that treaty to the ground,” Cormac croaks. “And it wasn’t even—”
“Don’t.” Rocky approaches and places a hand briefly on Cormac’s shoulder. “Your grievances are forgotten. Water under the bridge. Given the circumstances, I don’t hold anything against you. And I’ll make sure my father won’t either.”
Cormac lifts his head and his gaze meets Rocky’s. There’s a moment where they appear to share a silent conversation that ends in a nod of understanding. Then Rocky takes his leave.
As soon as the door closes, Cormac’s head falls into my lap. I abandon my drink and thread my fingers into his hair, stroking soothingly. Despite his silence, Cormac begins to shake and he cries silently. I comfort him the best I can.
I imagine it would be easier to know Brenden died for a reason. A real reason. Instead, it was just cruelty, the act of a delusional madman driven by possessive jealousy.
I comfort Cormac the best I can, and my heart breaks each time I hear the smallest sniffle or wounded noise of pain. He will have to break this news to his siblings and his mother. Closing my eyes, I tighten my grip in his hair. It’s not going to be easy.
“I’m sorry,” Cormac says after a long while. “I pulled you into this world and you have gone through hell because of me.” He looks up at me with red-rimmed eyes. “I hope you can forgive me.”
“Oh, Cormac.” I cup his face and stroke his cheeks with my thumbs. “You saved me. And I don’t mean with just the tank. If you hadn’t come into my life, I’d be dead by now. I found that body on my own, and the moment the cops questioned me, I was on Noah’s radar. If you hadn’t taken me that day, then I surely would have died at the hands of his assassin. You saved me, okay? You did.”
He surges upward, and our mouths clash in a hot, messy kiss while I slide my hands around his shoulders.
“I promised you that you wouldn’t get hurt again and I failed.”
“Well,” I say against his lips, “you still came for me. You found me and you rescued me, so maybe I can overlook that just this once. Just y’know…” I pull back and gaze deep into his eyes. “Don’t let it happen again, yeah?”
He laughs softly, kisses me again, and then moves up onto the bed next to me. As he draws me into his arms, I pull the blankets with me and tuck us in as best I can.
“No one will hurt you ever again,” he murmurs with his lips against my hairline. “I swear it.”
“Just uhm… keep me away from water for a little while.” Never again do I want to be anywhere near water of that level.
Fuck swimming.
Cormac wraps around me and grasps my chin lightly, then tips my head up so our eyes meet. “Never again,” he swears. “Did you mean it, what you said?”
“What did I say?” I ask softly, lightly stroking his arm. I ache to comfort him more than this, but if holding me and talking to me is working for him, then I’m here for it. Just being in his arms is chasing away the bone-creaking cold in my soul. I never want to leave.
“When you woke up, you said you loved me.”
“Oh.” Heat flushes across my cheeks, and I can’t stop the small smile that creeps across my lips. “Yeah. I meant it. I love you in this kind of obsessive, really overwhelming way, and I was scared I’d never get to tell you. Convinced, actually. And part of me thought you were a dream so I just… yeah. I said it. And I mean it. I love you.”
My pulse quickens suddenly as I’m faced with the prospect that he doesn’t feel the same, and a sharp shiver lances down my spine. I shudder in his arms, and Cormac leans so close that the tips of our noses touch.
“Good,” Cormac murmurs. “Because I love you too.”
