Page 52 of Russian Roulette
He slides into the shallow end of the pool and leans back against the edge.
“Is the water in the pool heated?” I ask, trying not to drool.
“Come in and find out for yourself,” he says. “I can tell you’re tempted. What do you have to lose? C’mon! Live a little!” He flicks the water with his hand, trying to splash me. I jump when the warm water droplets hit my arms. “You’re going to get wet one way or the other,” he warns.
That’s an understatement.
“I didn’t bring a swimsuit with me,” I tell him as an excuse. “And I’m not skinny-dipping, so you can forget that.”
“No worries. You can get it in your bra and panties. If you’re wearing any, that is. Or do you prefer ‘going commando’? I bet you do. Why don’t you show me?”
He’s teasing me about wearing panties when he remembers I do. Seven and Kit walk back onto the balcony, their faces grim. Something’s wrong.
“What is it?” I ask. “You both look worried. Did someone die?”
“Yeah, what’s up with the sad, frowny faces?” Vulcan asks. “What’s gotten into you two? Something going on?”
“No, everything’s fine,” Kit replies with a tight smile that doesn’t reach his eyes. He pours himself a glass of champagne and chugs it in two swallows.
“Admit it, Seven,” Vulcan says, unconvinced. “You’re just mad because we crashed your party. Don’t be. There’s plenty of room for everyone. I don’t mind sharing. Come on in, guys. The water’s great.” He ducks his head underwater and swims the short length of the pool before coming up near me. Shaking his dark hair like a wet dog, he drenches me with water drops.
“Vulcan!” I sputter at him. “Now I’m wet all over. I’ll need to go change into something dry. It’s too chilly out here to sit in wet clothes.” I scoot the metal chair back and stand. Before I can walk away, Vulcan jumps out of the pool and grabs me around the waist.
“Since you’re already wet,” he says, dragging me backwards toward the pool.
“No! Don’t you dare! Vulcan, I swear I’ll kill you! Stop!” I’m screaming at him while trying to keep my footing. He’s much stronger than me, making my efforts to resist futile. He walks backwards toward the water, pulling me with him.
“Vulcan! What the hell are you doing?” Kit yells. “Cut it out!”
I’m struggling to get loose because I don’t want to go into the water in my jeans, a heavy sweater and my only pair of sneakers. His foot slips on the wet edge of the pool and we both tumble in backwards. My head goes underwater and for a second I panic because his arms are still tightly wrapped around me.
Once, when I was little, a group of boys in one of my many foster homes thought it would be funny to hold my head underwater in a muddy lake.
I’ve never forgotten the panicked sensation of being held down and unable to draw in a breath. They only turned me loose when I pretended to be dead. It scared the shit out of them, and I made sure they never fucked with me again.
After that, I practiced holding my breath every single day until I reached the point I could hold it for several minutes. The skill came in handy when the Russian mafia tried to kill me, and it might work now to teach Vulcan a lesson.
I stop fighting and go limp in Vulcan’s arms. He doesn’t notice and drags me into the deeper end of the pool, with both of us still underwater.
What an idiot.
He doesn’t realize that I held my breath when I fell backwards. I could’ve gulped a mouthful of water and be really drowning right now.
When the depth is over both our heads, he treads water and pulls me up until my head is out of the water. I let my head roll to one side and hang limply in his arms. He’s behind me, still treading water, and doesn’t notice that I’m not breathing.
“Now that you’re wet, you might as well strip out of those clothes,” he jokes.
“Jade!” Kit yells in a panicked voice near the edge of the pool. “Jade! Answer me!” A split-second later, I hear him jump into the pool with us. “She’s not breathing, you motherfucker!” he roars at Vulcan. “Turn loose of her.”
“What?” Vulcan yelps in surprise.
Kit’s huge, muscular arms engulf me like a warm blanket. His long hair touches my cheek as he tugs me away from Vulcan and carries me to the shallow end of the pool. It’s all I can do not to gasp when the cool night air hits my skin as he steps out of the pool with me in his arms. Damn, I hate being cold and wet.
“Throw me a towel,” he yells to Seven.
Kit carefully sits in a chair with me still cradled in his arms. The gig is almost up because I’m right at my time limit of holding my breath. What started as a prank on Vulcan has enfolded into a very interesting scenario with Kit. My mind races, trying to decide the best way to play this. I only have another thirty seconds to figure it out. I can’t hold my breath forever.
“Jade! Breathe, damn it!” Kit yells.
