Strong Enough(65)

“There’s more where that came from, motherfu—”

Matt’s long fingers wrap around my throat and squeeze, cutting off my rant. “Do you think I won’t kill you and throw your whore’s body into the lake?” he hisses.

I sputter ineffectively, trying to spit acid around his tight hold.

“But I can do worse. If you don’t sit quietly while I row this shitty little boat to shore, I’ll shoot you in both arms and both legs and then drag your ass down the road. You get me? I need you for a little while longer, to help me get your father out of the way, but I can make do without if you prove to be more trouble than you’re worth.”

A sob builds in my chest. Not because of his threat, but because I can’t bear the thought of leaving the lake. Jasper’s body is in the water. I can’t leave him here. I can’t leave him here all alone, to die with his brother in the water.

I nod since I can’t speak and after another twenty seconds or so, Matt releases me. I pull in huge gulps of air, raising my hand to massage my neck. My head spins lightly as blood begins to flow to and from my brain again.

“Here,” Matt says, pitching first one oar and then the other at me, the handle of the second hitting me just above my right eye. “You can row, little girl.”

My eye tears and I blink rapidly so that I can see. As I’m winding my fingers around the oars, I imagine swinging one of the long pieces of wood and hitting Matt in the side of the head, as hard as I can. My grip tightens and loosens, tightens and loosens as I think, as I plan.

Just a few strokes to put him at ease and then I can stand and swing at the same time, catching him off guard. Maybe before he can get off a shot.

Or maybe he’ll even drop his gun and I can get to it before he does.

Or maybe the blow will kill him and he’ll fall into the water and I won’t have to worry about him ever again.

I go through the motions as I think, lowering the oars into the water and adjusting my feet in the bottom of the boat. I glare at Matt as he uses his shirt to wipe more blood from what must be a deeper wound seeping at the corner of his mouth.

I hope it hurts like hell, you asshole!

I squeeze the handles as I pull back on the oars, sending us slicing through the water in a backward motion. One, I think to myself, deciding that lucky number three will be the upswing that I aim toward Matt’s head.

I raise the oars and reset them in the water and pull again.

Two.

I don’t take my eyes off Matt as he cleans and preens, the gun always aimed roughly at my chest. I raise the oars again, resetting them in the water, my muscles clenching for what comes after stroke number three, but it never happens.

The boat lurches sharply to the right and dips down at Matt’s end as a dark, glistening shape arises from the water behind him. A thick arm wraps around Matt’s upper body and, with a vicious twist, pulls him into the shiny blackness.

“Jasper!” I cry as I leap to my feet. But he’s gone. They both are, disappeared into the liquid onyx below me.

I kneel and lean over the edge of the boat, watching, waiting. I hold my breath as I eye the glassy surface for any indication of struggle or movement. But it remains calm. So very calm.

I don’t know how many seconds elapse before my anxiety rises to fever pitch and I bend down to slap my hand on the water. “Jaaasperrr!”

Oh God, oh God, oh God!

Nothing.

Then, like a bullet, Matt breaks the surface with a splash and a gasp, reaching for the edge of the boat. His fingers clamp down over my right hand and I screech, using the fingers of my left hand to pry open his grip.

Matt jeers up into my face. “Snuffed him just like I did his whore mother,” he sputters, tightening his grip to lever himself up into the boat.

My muscles are preparing for another fight when I see Jasper surface silently behind him. I don’t have to ask if he heard Matt’s words. I can see that he did. His face is death and his eyes are murder. I see Matt’s fate in the dark gold orbs. I see his end. Matt’s life is over. He took something from Jasper that he shouldn’t have. And now Jasper will take something from him in return.

Moments and movements tick by like days. Slow, frightening days. I see only the highlight of each, like a slideshow recap.

Long fingers move to Matt’s chin.

They cup just before they close, like a lover might.

Matt’s eyes widen.

Jasper’s knuckles whiten.

Lips pull back from teeth in a sneer.

One loser.

One winner.

A sharp jerk.

A muted snap.

A pause.

My heart thunders as I watch, as I wait.

But then Matt’s fingers slither off mine. Slowly, like five thin, cold snakes. I can’t take my eyes off him as he slinks silently, bonelessly into the water, down, down, down, until he’s out of sight.