Page 39 of Quarterback Keeper

CHAPTER TWENTY-SIX

Gia

Aurora

Istruggled to open my eyes. My wrists were trapped in a viselike hold. I blinked, willing my mind to work. My arms were stretched over my head, and my body scraped along the floor as someone dragged me.

Everything that had happened before I’d hit my head flooded back. Dayton had found me. The gun. The fight between him and Kylian. My body jostled over stairs, and I went into immediate action, twisting, pulling, and shouting to get free.

Then I saw Kylian—slumped over, unconscious, and bleeding from a knife wound. He was losing a lot of blood. He needed help. Blind panic shot through me, and I resumed my efforts to break free, giving it everything I had.

I leaned my head back as Dayton managed to pull me up the stairs, his hands tight around my wrists. So much stronger than I was, he yanked me to my feet. This was bad. Wrenching my armsbehind my back, he crushed me against his chest. I opened my mouth to scream.

“Shut the fuck up, Aurora. You brought this on yourself.”

“Let me go, and I won’t tell anyone what you did or who you are.” I trembled as he laughed. “This won’t end well for you. You know that, right?”

He leaned down, his nose against my neck. As he dragged it along the curve, inhaling, I shuddered. He made me physically sick.

“You smell like him.”

His anger before was nothing compared to what I heard in his voice. My instincts flared, and I scanned the area, looking for help. I found none. No boaters topside or people close enough to see what was happening. He was going to kill me. I had to escape.

He shuffled me awkwardly forward along the deck. A pronounced limp slowed our progress, and strain etched groves that bracketed Dayton’s scowl. Kylian had done some damage. I enjoyed the cruel smile that curved my lips. Dayton tightened his grip as he struggled to control me and get us off the boat.

Sun glinted off the rippling water as we neared the edge, sparking an idea. Dayton hated the water. We never went to the beach back in California, or even the pool, and I’d learned the reason why—he couldn’t swim.

I knew what I had to do, but I was nervous. The circumstances called for drastic measures, though, and I pushed aside my anxiety, focusing on freeing an arm from his too-tight grip. I hoped I could shove him and run for help.

He changed his hold and pulled me against him. The steel band of his arm bit into my waist and held me flush against him as he jumped off the boat and onto the dock with a pained grunt. He’d taken most of the impact when our feet had hit the pier. I couldn’t let that go to waste. It was my chance.

My gaze met a blissful stretch of water, and hope surged. A gap stood where another boat should’ve been tied opposite Kylian’s on the pier. Rope conveniently hung from one of the pilings, and I stretched my arms until my fingers gained purchase. Dayton found his balance and attempted to secure me against his body again, but I twisted and popped my hip into his. His arms loosened slightly as he released another grunt. In the small space, I turned until we were mostly facing one another then kicked his injured knee, using my body’s momentum to fully yank out of his grasp.

I had one chance to do it right and get rid of him. With all the strength I could muster, I rammed my shoulder into him. He released me, arms flailing as he stumbled to the dock’s edge. His heel missed the pier, meeting air instead. Grossly off balance with only his injured leg on the dock, he lost the battle and tumbled into Lake Michigan.

The sound of his body hitting the water sent a bolt of satisfaction through me.Stay there.If he couldn’t get to the pier’s pilings, I had a shot of being rid of him for good.

As he gasped and flailed, panic and guilt constricted my lungs. I didn’t want to feel bad, but I did. His head went under. He broke the surface, coughing and sputtering twice, three times, then nothing. The water’s surface returned to the gentle lap of waves as if nothing violent had happened moments ago. I sucked in a stuttering breath, and tears flooded my eyes at what I’d done. I would face consequences, but I couldn’t think about it with Kylian lying in a pool of blood below deck.

The pounding in my head from hitting it was nothing compared to the sound of my feet as I whirled around, jumped back onto the boat deck, and sprinted across it. Kylian needed medical attention. A sob broke from my trembling lips. I was terrified to see how much blood he’d lost.

I flew down the short flight of stairs to where he lay on the floor. Blood from his side wound soaked his gray T-shirt.

“Where’s your phone?”

“Pocket,” he croaked then winced as he tried to move his right arm to help.

Worry made time slip. It slowed then raced forward. I was so scared, and I didn’t like the lack of color in his skin. His eyes closed, and terror shot through me.

“Stay with me, QB1.” My breaths sawed in and out as I tried to keep him conscious and dial 911. I tapped his cheek with my palm when his eyes didn’t open. “Hey, open your eyes.”

He grunted then slurred, “Stop it.”

Tears ran unchecked down my cheeks. “Please don’t die on me.” I grabbed some towels from one of the drawers and carefully applied as much pressure as I thought was okay. I couldn’t tell if any vital organs had been punctured. I only hoped it didn’t cost Kylian his life. And on the heels of that thought, I glanced at his arm—could that injury cause the potential loss of his football career?

The operator’s voice was like a lifeline. I told her about Kylian’s knife wound and that he’d lost a lot of blood. Between sobs, I somehow managed to convey that we were on theQuarterback Keeper.

“I never should have come into your life. I’m so sorry.”

---