Page 94 of Don't Lie To Me

A whimper escapes me, knowing I’m fucked. “Where are you taking me?” I cry desperately.

“The watch tower.”

I blink back at him, wondering what the hell he’s going on about.

He lunges, his fingers reaching for my arms, and in a flash, I stumble backward, plunging into the icy water. It’s all-consuming, swallowing me and stealing away my breath in an instant.

I hear him yell for help. Screaming to get me out of here. But I can’t focus on him. All I can do is try to move my arms and legs and focus on getting my head to the surface to breathe when it feels like little, tiny knives are stabbing at my skin.

I kick my feet and paddle my arms, bursting to the surface, gasping for air. The icy water causes my lungs to constrict painfully, each breath a searing struggle. My tight skirt clings to my legs, making it nearly impossible to kick through the water. But I keep moving, doing everything I can to get away.

The boat’s engine cuts out with a jarring clang, bringing it to an immediate halt.

I glance back over my shoulder to see Romeo at the edge of the boat, his shoes already off. “Throw her a flotation device, she can’t swim,” he calls frantically to the other dude as he strips off his shirt. It’s then I realize my mistake—this isn’t Romeo at all. There, on his lower neck and down onto his chest, is a tattoo I haven’t seen in nine years, an angel right next to what could only be a bullet wound scar. It was hidden by his collared shirt.

Orlando Moretti is still alive, and he’s the motherfucker who’s been after me.

The end