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Closing her eyes briefly, she commanded her element. It only took her a second to raise a wall of water right behind the roller they were headed for. When they crossed the first safely, the fifteen-foot freak wave was on top of them.
“Mother of Jesus,” Eduardo exclaimed.
Tons of water was poised like curled fingers, suspended in the air, motionless for a beat before the fingers closed and the fist came down.
She ducked, preparing herself for the blow.
The crash was deafening. The force of the liquid explosion hurled her overboard. Whirling water hauled her under the foam, thrashing her body left and right. The angry rumble roared in her eardrums. She was too disorientated to command the water.
In a few more seconds, the thrash died down enough for her to still and find a sense of direction. Opening her eyes, she looked around in the murky water, blinking against the sting of the salt, and spotted the milkiness of the break above. Her hands were still tied, but she could propel herself up with her feet. When her head finally broke through the surface, she gasped for air.
She ducked just in time as another wave broke. Coming back up, she saw pieces of debris floating everywhere. What was left of the shredded boat was probably sinking. She scanned the water for Eduardo, but he was nowhere in sight.
It was a tough swim to the island, but she could create a slipstream to carry her through the reef. She took another deep breath and duck-dived to escape a high breaker.
Resurfacing, she swallowed a mouthful of water at the sight that awaited. Shark fins were all around. Turning in three hundred and sixty degrees, she treaded water, aware of how her legs dangled vulnerably in the water.
She coughed and spat.
The predators were close enough now for her to recognize the sharp-tipped jaws. She was surrounded by Zambezi’s, one of the most aggressive shark species in the world. And Victor’s blood was a red pool of bait.
There was only one thing to do. She had to part the water. Either that, or become a shark snack. Keeping her eyes on the nearing fins, she focused on the ocean again. The molecules started splitting, creating a wall of water on either side of her with a clear path between. Her body dropped with the receding sea to a sandy bottom littered with rocks and reef. She found her feet and started running as fast as the wet, sharp seabed allowed. Through the wall of water on either side of her, disorientated fish swam in all directions. She started at the grisly sight of one of the Zambezi’s shredding the meat off a human leg. The only way was forward, toward the island.
Her boot-clad feet sunk into the sand. With her hands tied, she was slower than usual. The sun beat down on her head. Despite her wet body suit, she was perspiring by the time the shore came into sight. She paused and looked around the island for anyone waiting for the boat. All she could see were palm trees and the thatch roof of a large building in the distance. She staggered onto the blinding white sand, not stopping to catch her breath until she reached the dense shrubbery.
Seeking shelter in the shade, she took a moment to let the water fall back into place. The two liquid walls crashed together and caused an explosion that shattered the peaceful quiet. Birds chirped loudly as they flew up from the trees.
Exhausted, she sank to the sand. Her throat felt like sandpaper. Fresh water would be sweeter than anything right now, but her first priority was to find a way to cut the zip tie. And then to get the hell off Ilano’s island.
A branch cracked behind her. She knew what was coming even before yet another gun barrel was pressed against the back of her head.
“That’s right,” a male voice said. “Stay on your knees.”
While the man at her back aimed the weapon at her, another stepped into her line of sight. He was big and bulky, his meaty face dented with pockmarks. Ugly bastard. The sour look he wore didn’t help.
“Where are Victor and Eduardo?” he asked.
She smiled. “Shark food.”
The man’s lips pulled back from his teeth. “On your feet.”
Pain shot up her shoulder as the guard behind her pulled her roughly up by her arm.
“Walk.” Pockmarks motioned with his automatic handgun at the beach before taking the lead.
Sandwiched between the two men, she didn’t have a choice but to follow. After a short walk, they turned onto a path paved with crushed shells. It led to the building she’d seen in the distance, which she could now make out as a handsome, wooden lodge with a large, open deck covered by a thatch roof. Six armed men lounged around the garden. Three more played cards at a table on the deck.
