Page 2 of Undertow

Maybe no one does. Maybe it’s one of those things life chooses for you. Like being born into the wrong family or cursed with a genetic condition. You can handle a few bad breaks, sometimes even find the silver lining that inspires art and leads to celebrated stories. It’s amazing the beauty that gets harvested from pain. But eventually, one trial compounds on the next and the next, until you’re on your knees, surviving instead of living.

Once you’re a prisoner of survival, anything goes.

Right now, survival has me on a slim two-lane bridge slicing through the Gulf of Mexico. I glance out the window of a luxury SUV while Abe drives us to my next assignment.

“Damn. That view, though, right? Never gets old.”

His smile is deceptively friendly. I remember that from our first meeting at one of the Las Vegas properties. He reminds me of a furry snake—he’ll cuddle you close for a deadly strike.

“Lots of water,” I say coolly.

Abe shoots me a smirk before focusing back on the road. “Theysaidyou were smart.”

My lips twist up as I shake my head and try to focus on the dashboard, my pants, my hands… anywhere but the window.

Because thereisa lot of water. So much that my stomach pinches and my breathing accelerates with each second on this narrow bridge.

They didn’t tell me where I was going when I got the call to board the McArthur private jet. Florida it seems. We must be heading to one of the islands, which is the last place someone afraid of water wants to end up. Hopefully, this will be a quick job and they’ll send me back to Philadelphia.

I never know what’s waiting for me when we land, but I stopped fearing the unknown a while ago. The response is always the same no matter what nightmare awaits me.

Adapt.

Fight.

Survive.

This one feels different, though. This one feels…

Viscous.

“What they didn’t say was how pretty you are.” Abe snorts. “No wonder Scarlett is hung up on you.”

“What the hell are you talking about?” I mutter.

“Scarlett McArthur? The boss’daught?—”

“I know who she is. The other part.”

More fodder for my rolling stomach when he shrugs with a glib look. Shit, does he know? He can’t. Scarlett swore no one would know our sordid story if I played by the rules.

I survey Abe’s shaved head and smug brown eyes. No, he just enjoys tormenting me with floating puzzle pieces. Maybe this is a punishment. Enduring hours in an enclosed space with a dude who’s about as funny as the nine-mil he likes to wave around.

All humor drains from my thoughts when I catch a glimpse of the endless water through Abe’s window. Same view as the one through mine. Crystal hell surrounding us on all sides, mocking our tiny sliver of asphalt cutting through the liquid abyss.

Dry ground carved in naked seas.

Just breathe.

Breathe, Shaw.

Eyes closed, I pull in a steadying breath. We have to be nearing land soon.

Fear is a scratch not a scar.

“You okay?” Abe asks.

I swallow my anxiety and force a quick smile. “Yeah. Just a little motion sickness,” I lie. “It was a rough flight.”

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