Perfect Victim, The (60 page)

Addison flailed
,
the cold, thin air rushing around her. The ocean laughed as her own wrenching scream pierced the air
.

She was falling
.

Then the water rushed up and received her with sharp, icy
claws. It ripped into her, tore her open from end to end. Encompassed her like an arctic crypt. Her senses scattered as the shock incapacitated her, physically, mentally.

A rush of disbelief engulfed her. Her mind rebelled against the terror spiraling out of control inside her.
This can't be happening,
she thought with startling clarity. Not when Randall had been just a few feet away.

The water sucked her down. Her mind acknowledged the sensation of nothingness. A black void. An icy tomb. She struggled against her binds, not knowing up from down. A bolt of adrenaline surged through her muscles. She sucked in a mouthful of saltwater and choked. Panic swirled inside her like a tornado.

She opened her eyes to total blackness and felt the burn of saltwater against them. She kicked with all her might, cursing the boots that weighed her down.

An instant later she broke the surface. Sound and light and bitter cold assaulted her senses. She kicked, struggling to keep her mouth above the waves. The water tugged her down. Her face slipped below the waves.

And she was drowning.

Chapter 30

Randall reached the gunwale just as Tate crumbled. An animal sound ripped from his throat as he leaned over the rail
.
Ten feet below, the unforgiving water churned angrily. "Addison!"

Desperate
,
he turned, spotting the cabinets set into the transom at the stem
.
Sprinting across the deck
,
he dropped to his knees. One by one
,
he ripped open the cabinets
,
finally locating a cache of life vests.

Jerking the vests from their nest, he rose. Ten feet away, the sight of Tate lying face down in a pool of blood
stunned him.

Randall shook himself and darted back to the rail
.
There, he secured one of the vests at his waist, lodging two more beneath his arms
.
Without a thought for his own safety, he climbed onto the rail
.
From atop the gunwale, he scanned the water and listened for cries that never came.

"Addison!"

It was December and the water in the bay couldn
'
t be much over fifty degrees Fahrenheit. Randall knew how
quickly hypothermia set in. Christ, how long could she tread water with her hands bound?

Panic hammered at him. Screaming her name, knowing there was no more time, he tightened his grip on the vests and hurled himself over the edge.

Addison wasn’t sure how long she’d been in the water. It seemed like hours, but it could have been minutes, even seconds. Cold numbed her body. She no longer felt her hands or feet. The muscles in her legs throbbed with the effort of keeping her head above water. Her clothes and boots felt like dead weight.

Oh, dear God, where was Randall?

Despair stabbed through her. She couldn't stay afloat much longer. The cold was zapping her strength with frightening speed. She couldn't see the boat; she couldn't remember which direction it was in.

A wave washed over her. Choking, she rolled onto her back and kicked. An eerie calm descended over her. She felt as if she'd been drugged. Detached. She closed her eyes. The darkness enticed with a warm embrace and a murky promise to end the pain. To end the struggle.

Her face slipped below the surface. She sucked in water, felt it burn her lungs. Raw adrenaline speared through her. She surfaced again, coughing. "Randall! Help me!" she choked. "Oh, God, help me, please!"

A wave crashed over her, pushing her down. She kicked violently, using the last of her strength to break the surface.

One more time, she thought wildly, one more breath. One more minute of life. She took in a mouthful of acrid water. She coughed, shuddered with the effort, and felt herself slipping under.

She barely felt the hands lift her, forcing something solid beneath her arms. "Addison! Honey, it's me."

Randall. Beside her. Touching her.

“
Talk to me, dammit!" Without finesse, he slapped her cheek with an open palm, shaking her gently. '
'
Wake up! Honey, we've got to swim back to the boat
.
"

She was aware of him struggling, the breath rushing between his teeth, the hardness of his body bumping against hers as he stroked through the turbulent water.

She tried to speak, but her mouth couldn't form the words. She felt warmer now
.
Slipping away to a place that wasn't so cold.

Randall couldn’t believe he’d found her. Now that his arms were wrapped around her, he swore he'd never let her go. But she was cold
.
So cold it frightened him.

They were less than ten feet from the boat when he heard the low rumble of an engine. He stopped stroking and cocked his head to listen. The smell of exhaust reached him through the rain and wind. Terror ripped through him, shaking him to his very foundation as he watched the
Anastasia
pull away.

Tate was alive. And he was leaving them to drown
.

Randall bellowed a curse
.
He slammed his fist against the water in outrage. Lying against him, barely conscious, Addison stirred.

Fighting panic, he shook her
. '
'We're going to swim for the other boat
.
I need for you to kick your feet, Addison. Right now. Come on! Kick for me."

Even in the darkness, he saw the distance in her eyes
.

When she tried to speak, her words were slurred, unintelligible.

Christ, he was losing her to hypothermia.

Remembering his pocket knife, he fished it out of his pocket with numb fingers. Setting the blade against the nylon cord of the handcuffs, he sawed back and forth. "I want you to swim, honey." The cord gave, freeing her arms. Kicking furiously, he rubbed her arms briskly
.

"Randall
.
Oh, God
,
Randall
.
"

The sound of her voice crushed him. He closed his eyes, felt the weight of the world settle onto his shoulders. "That's right, honey. It's me. We're going to swim. I want you to kick your feet."

When she didn't respond, he shook her gently. Taking her hands between his he rubbed them vigorously. "Help me, dammit." Panic edged his voice. "I need your help. Kick your feet. You've got to swim."

She moved feebly beside him, but he knew it was useless. She didn't have the strength.

Randall rolled her onto her back and tied her vest to his, binding them together. He wasn't going to let her go. Dammit, he wasn't going to let her die. Not after everything they'd been through.

Determined to save the life of the, woman he loved, he swam in the general direction of
The Pulpit
. He couldn't see the boat through the darkness and swells, but he trusted his sense of direction. With Addison in tow, he used the last of his strength stroking and kicking. He put everything he had into that swim, cursing every wave, every moment when that little voice inside his head told him they weren't going to make it.

When his arms and legs threatened to give out, he swam on adrenaline alone. When it became painful even to draw a breath, he thought of Addison, of everything that would be lost if he gave up now. When he thought he could go on no more, he used his own fury to fuel him.

Blinded by water, deafened by the wind. he drove himself mercilessly. His broken ribs took him beyond pain. Exhaustion hammered through him and the cold zapped his strength. The waves pummeled him. He cursed with one breath, prayed with the next.

Treading water, he tried to get his bearings. Next to him, Addison was silent and still. However much he longed to comfort her, to give her his warmth, he hadn't the strength left. He couldn't swim much farther. He couldn't take much more cold.

A bolt of adrenaline ripped through him when he saw the silhouette of the Bertram twenty yards to his right
.
A hologram against the horizon
.
Fading in and out of his vision like a mirage.

Hope burgeoned in his chest
.
Praying his mind wasn't playing tricks on him, he began to swim. "Hang on, Addison
.
"

They approached
The Pulpit
from the stem. With weighted arms
,
he reached for the dive ladder and pulled himself out of the water.

The wind cut through his wet clothes
,
stunning him with cold
.
He murmured her name as he bent and lifted her out of the water
.
"Hold on
,
honey. We're safe
.
We
made it
.
"

A foot of water sloshed from side to side on the deck. Another hour and the boat would be at the bottom of the bay
.
Randall took her to the pilot house
.
Once inside, he closed the door, fell to his knees, and lowered her to the floor
.

She spilled from his arms in a wet heap, cold, motionless
,
seemingly lifeless. There wasn't enough light for him to see her face so he couldn't tell how bad her coloring was
.
He checked her pulse at he
r
throat
,
finding it weak and slow.

Acting on instinct, he quickly removed her boots and wet clothing
,
too frightened to notice the beauty of her flesh beneath.

"
Addison, honey, we made it
.
"
His voice was thick with emotion
,
uncertainty
,
and the remnants of his own physical strain.
"
You're going to be all right
.
"