Page 127 of Our Little Secret
Felt the swirl of water nearby.
Gideon!
He was so close.
Again, she dove deep, her lungs beginning to burn. She saw the Beretta as it reached the bottom. Made a swing for it. Juggled it as it slipped through her fingers. She pirouetted through a cascade of bubbles. Where was it? Where?
From the corner of her eye she saw Gideon reach for her.
Diving closer.
She kicked back, felt his hand graze her shoulder.
Find it! Find the damned gun!
She saw a glint in the surrounding detritus.
Shot forward, lungs on fire.
Come on!
Gideon clamped a hand on her arm.
She grasped frantically for the weapon with her free hand, scraping the muck.
The gun rotated, spiraled upward with a plume of silt.
She grabbed for it, fingers scraping metal, just as a strong hand grasped hers, grappling for the weapon. Bubbles released as her lungs began to scream for air, but she wouldn’t let go, wouldn’t let him win.
They struggled, the water churning around them, legs striking legs as they swirled together in this macabre water dance, the Beretta clasped between them.
Heart pumping, lungs ready to explode, she felt his fingers peeling hers away from the gun.
God, no!
She kicked as hard as she could and felt something rend within her, a tearing, as she held tight to the Beretta, her index finger slipping through the trigger guard.
His finger tightened over hers as they fought.
The gun fired.
Her body jerked.
The gun sank.
Gideon lost his grip.
His fingers fell away.
His face turned ashen, a ghastly mask.
Drifting backward, he stared at her, his eyes round and disbelieving.
Blood clouded the water between them.
Brooke didn’t wait.
Through the pain and horror, she kicked like hell, shooting upward, her lungs about to burst.
