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CHAPTER TWENTY
SHE FOUGHT HIM like a tiger. With everything she had. Tooth and nail. Anything to keep her daughter safe. Was Benni safe? She hoped she was standing on the pontoon with Wazza, unharmed and protected by him. But she really had no idea. All she knew was she needed to fight this man, so Wazza could get Benni away. And if she died doing it, then that would be worth the sacrifice. She wasn’t going to let Bruno have her daughter. And she trusted Wazza to save her little girl. No matter what it took.
She’d had the element of surprise. But Bruno was a big man, and she knew his physicality would soon overcome her. She waited for the slash of the knife to come, for him to punch her, kick her, drag her down to the depths and drown her. But he did none of those things. After those first few seconds of disbelief, he thrashed around in the water, trying to get away from her. Floundering. Attempting to make it back to the pontoon.
It came as a shock to realize that Bruno couldn’t swim, either.
But she’d use it to her advantage. Because her need was greater. She’d stay out here and fight until the bitter end.
Hanging on to his jacket for dear life, she towed him backward underwater, away from the direction of the jetty. They’d been submerged for a long time now, and the urge to breathe was getting too great to ignore. She used him as a stepladder, clawing her way to the surface and gasping one bright, life-giving lungful of air, before she pushed him down again, thwarting his attempt to reach for a breath.
In that brief interlude as she raised her head for a gulp of air, she heard a commotion on the pontoon, Wazza’s voice, but she had no time to see what was going on or if Benni was with him before she went down. She had faith in Wazza that he would do what she couldn’t; rescue her daughter.
Bruno’s struggles became weaker. The water was murky and she could barely see two feet in front of her. All of a sudden, his face was right there in front of her. Eyes wide, mouth open, bubbles leaking from his nose. Gone was the arrogant, cocky asshole with a swagger in his walk and an aura of entitlement. He looked as terrified as poor Benni when he’d held a knife to her throat, but she had no sympathy for him. He grasped at her weakly, but she pushed him away with hardly any effort. Then she watched as he drifted away from her on the underwater current.
The stream was strong, towing them steadily out to sea. Kee hadn’t counted on being pushed this far away from Diesel’s jetty. But then she’d never really counted on making it out of this river, either. Had Wazza mentioned something about crocodiles living in this estuary? They were found all over the Gulf Country. Kee had heard that drowning was actually quite a peaceful way to die. But being eaten by a crocodile, well, that was another matter. The thought of large gaping jaws and rows of sharp teeth had her fighting her way to the surface.
Her limbs were heavy and lethargic, her lungs bursting for air. But the sun beckoned to her, sparkling brightly through the lens of small waves above. Two more strokes and her head broke the surface, her mouth gaping as it searched for oxygen.
But she sunk straight back down beneath the waves again, and she panicked, swallowing water as she went. She hadn’t been lying when she told Wazza she couldn’t swim. Her parents feared the water. It wasn’t something they instilled in their kids, like Australian parents did; that love of water, the way Aussies flocked to the beach. Her parents hated the beach. So, she’d never had official swimming lessons. But Jakov had taken her to the local swimming pool with him on the odd occasion—he loved to swim laps to keep fit—and while she’d been there, she’d often listened in on the children’s lessons as she sat in the shallow end of the pool, with her toes in the water. The instructors had been teaching water safety as well as how to swim. And she learned that the best way to save yourself was to stop fighting and surrender. To lie on your back and let the water support you. Kee had tried it a few times in the shallow end, and found to her delight that she could indeed float.
Could she replicate that feat now, though?
Kicking her feet, she tried to get herself horizontal. Instead of thrashing her arms, she made small, swirling motions, around and around. And wonder of wonders, she floated to the surface. The first time it happened, she was so surprised, she immediately floundered and sunk like a stone again. Closing her eyes, she tried the same maneuver again, and it worked. Pushing thoughts of hungry crocodiles from her mind, she focussed on staying afloat. Small waves broke over her face, making her cough and splutter and start to sink again. God, was this going to work?
A drift of trees caught her eye. The far side of the riverbank was now closer than the one Diesel’s house was on. Should she try and make for it? But every time she did more than float on her back, she began to sink again, so in the end she stopped trying. Was she going to end up out at sea? She banished that thought, as it did her no good. Her only aim was to stay alive for as long as she could. Past that, she did not know if rescue was going to come. Stay calm and controlled and let fate do the rest.
Something brushed past her arm, breaking her composed bubble. What was that? A fish? A piece of driftwood? Seaweed? A crocodile? She began to sink again. God, it was impossible to stay afloat. She was going to drown.
Her last thought was of Benni, her beautiful daughter. Wazza would look after her. Because he loved Benni. Just like he loved her.
* * *
He couldn’t see her in the murky water. Couldn’t find her. He’d swum to the place he’d last seen Benni’s head go under, and then a little farther, allowing for the current, but she was gone. Nowhere to be found.
“Benni,” he shouted uselessly, swimming in circles. Then he dove again, peering through the turbid water, trying to see things that weren’t there. He surfaced again when his lungs felt fit to burst.
“Benni,” he called again.
Wait. What was that? Something. A flash of pink in the brown water.
He swam hard, stroking out with long arms, going with the current, keeping his eyes fixed on that point of color.
Just as he reached it, the shape disappeared under the water, but he wasn’t giving up that easily. Two more strokes took him to the spot, and he dived, down, down. Then his fist closed around a wad of pink material, and he climbed for the surface again. He had her.
“Benni.” He held the little girl to his chest.
She flopped lifelessly in his arms. She wasn’t breathing.
Wazza let out a sob.
“Benni. No.”
Spinning in the water, he scanned the riverbank. It was around a hundred meters away. He could make it with Benni, but how many precious seconds would be wasted? But he couldn’t do CPR in the water. He had to get her to dry land.
Without much hope, he turned on his back, resting Benni on his chest, and kicked for the shore.
A strange buzzing noise filled his ears. Then a boat pulled up alongside.
