Authors: Dianne Venetta
Stop
. Vic shook the insanity from his mind. It’s nothing more than a memory; another dark-haired girl sinking to the bottom.
Pressure built in his lungs. He was running out of time. He pressed his lids shut, then opened them. Eyes blistered against the saltwater. His side cramped. Vic yanked his head back and forth, spun his body around in the deep sway of water. Somewhere in the distance, he heard a low whine.
Get a grip, he warned himself. Or
Selena
dies.
With a powerful scissor-kick, Vic burst through the ocean’s surface. Gulping for air, water flooded his mouth, burned his throat. The next wave carried his body up and he scanned the horizon. Nothing.
Damn it
! She was here!
Is
here, he corrected quickly.
Is here..
. Vic rallied his logic. He was close. He had to be. Gauging his position off the land, he set off in the direction he last saw her—
thought he saw her
.
But it had to be right. She had to be this way. He dove under again. Through tepid currents, despite his breath pressing for release, he swam and continued to swim. Because he couldn’t quit. He couldn’t lose her.
Not again.
He looked behind him, next to him—
anywhere
. Where the hell was she? Need for air forced him up. Breaking the surface he engulfed a lung-full of air and winded, struggled to get his bearings.
How far had he moved
?
A heavy wave smacked into the back of his head. Damn it, he muttered. Where was she? She was here—I know she was!
Exhausted, stressed, Vic didn’t know how much more he had. How much time she had—and gave in to a shot of despair. Visions of frozen eyes stared at him from the pool bottom.
Help me
. Her silent plea pierced him to the core.
Help me,
Victor!
His body began to tremble. His vision tunneled. He hadn’t been able to help—time had been too short, the pull too strong. He couldn’t save her. Instead, he watched her die.
He squeezed his eyes shut.
Focus
. You can do this. His pulse skipped and careened. She never had a chance. The blade lodged deep.
But Selena does...
It was a whisper from nowhere. Wishful thinking for a man who needed to beat the odds. Treading water, his gaze floated over the surface. Blinding green into white, Selena was nowhere to be seen. Nowhere.
His heart leapt to his throat. Wait—
He caught sight of the sun’s reflection off her slick black hair. Not far off, she was bobbing.
Moving
.
A jolt of exhilaration ignited him to action.
Yes
! Vic lit into his muscles. He pounded wave after wave. He kept his eyes trained on Selena. His body moving, he kept his mind zeroed in on her. Using every ounce of strength he had left, Vic felt a sudden certainty he could reach her in time.
Hold on
, Selena. I can
see
you. I’m almost there.
When he neared, Selena was on her back. Arms outstretched she worked them to remain afloat. A burst of admiration swept through him. The girl was a fighter. Feet away now, a deep sense of vindication spread through him. He could save her.
This time
, he could save her.
As he neared, Vic planned his rescue. Crossing her chest with his right arm, he would secure her body, his hip wedged into the small of her back. He’d coast with the current, regain his strength, then swim them back to shore at the first break in undertow.
Startled by the sharp sound of an engine, Vic whirled around. What the—?
Chapter Four
Instinctively, Vic dodged out of the way.
“Grab her!”
The Jet Ski slowed, the motor sound muffled as it submerged in the dip of a deep swell. The man seated behind the driver reached out and grabbed Selena’s arm, and with skilled balance kept himself astride the Jet Ski as he hauled her body up and out of the water, easing her to a seated position on the wide foot board.
The driver worked his stance to offset the waves crashing over them, able to maintain a near level platform for his partner to secure Selena aboard the watercraft.
“You okay?” one of the men called out to Vic.
He gave a terse nod.
“I’ve got another crew right behind me. Can you hang on?”
Vic nodded again. Every muscle in his body had been rendered limp by the averted tragedy, but with relief pouring through him, he knew he could do anything. Gliding onto his back he worked to regain normal, rhythmic breathing.
Through half-lidded eyes, he watched the two young men attend to their victim—with an expertise he would not have believed them capable. Brisk fingers pressed her neck for pulse. Trained eyes scrutinized her pupils. Questions fired out to assess orientation. Once satisfied she was able to make the trip, they gently locked Selena between them.
Glad for her safety, Vic concentrated on filling his lungs with air and fought the ambivalence roiling in his gut.
He could have saved her
. He’d been within distance. And where he should have been happy with the lifeguard’s presence, his gratification was checked by failure.
“Over here!”
A second Jet Ski approached, waved toward Vic by Selena’s rescue team. Vic managed a scowl. The necessity of his own rescue did not sit well.
Within seconds, the second craft swung around him and the driver cut her throttle. Several feet away, she allowed them to float the remaining distance to Vic.
“Can you reach my hand?”
“Yeah.” Vic reached out in automatic response and let himself be hoisted onto the foot ledge, whereby he managed to crawl onto the back end of the seat. “Thanks.”
“You okay?” the young blonde asked.
“Fine,” he said, not intending the crisp tone of his reply.
But riding in to safety behind some doe of a lifeguard wasn’t what he had planned
.
“Hold on,” she warned and gunned the engine with a powerful thrust.
Spotting the crowd gathering along the shoreline with Diego and his team, he groaned inwardly. Perfect. But Vic’s ego released. A life had been saved today. Didn’t matter who received credit. Important thing was he didn’t lose a second one.
# # #
Riveted by Diego’s every word, Sam eyed the Morgan-Baxter file sitting on her kitchen counter and realized at once she would use it as a tool—a ploy to get Vic to her condo and get him talking.
A shudder raced through her. How close the two had come to drowning! She couldn’t imagine something like that happening to her, or for that matter, anyone she held dear. It was like a page of your life being ripped out before your very eyes. Crumpled, discarded, like meaningless litter.
But it wasn’t. The presence of loved ones in life rooted your entire existence. If Vic hadn’t been there, if the lifeguards hadn’t been there... Diego’s life would have been torn apart, irrevocably changed forever.
Anxious to end the call, Sam cut in, “All right. Listen, take care of Selena and let me know how she’s doing. If there’s anything I can do, call me, okay?”
When Diego agreed, she loosened her viselike grip on the receiver, slid the phone down along her neck and returned it to its cradle. “You, too, Diego,” she murmured to no one, pondering his final words.
Count your blessings
.
The sentiment trickled into her heart. It was something she tried to do every day but admittedly, fell short at times. But that was to be expected, wasn’t it? She commandeered a high-powered legal career. Work con-sumed her, required her complete attention. Some days, she barely had time to breathe, let alone count!
Sam’s gaze drifted out through the glass doors. Breathe, she reminded herself.
Breathe
. As her mind took flight over the bay, past the key and headed for the horizon, tension gradually released. Let go, her spirit urged. Release all thoughts and breathe. Count your blessings, your joys. Last year’s traditional Christmas family photo drifted into her mind and Sam closed her eyes, pressing the soft underside of her lids together. Happy parents, six kids… To imagine one gone was unbearable.
Sam breathed in deep and slow. If only for a moment, focus on all you have and hold dear. Vic had a close call today.
Selena
had a close call.
She inhaled again, repeating the move until every crevice of her soul was cleansed of worry, over her sisters, over Selena...everything in life she couldn’t control. In and out Sam breathed until she felt calm enough to call him. Vic didn’t have any friends in Miami. New in town, it was nothing unusual. Most men didn’t cultivate friendships as easily as women and other than Diego, she was as close a friend as Vic had.
Sam picked up her cell phone and dialed his number from her programmed list of contacts. Vic would need to talk about it. Get it off his chest, work through his emotions, his feelings...
And she would be his sounding board.
Two hours later, the rap on her door was solid but brief.
Show time
!
Sam adjusted her blouse, a breezy short-sleeved number the color of avocado, then fluffed auburn curls, brushed unruly strays from her face and walked over to answer him. Here under the guise of preparing closing arguments for Morgan-Baxter, Vic would be none the wiser when she casually mentioned her conversation with Diego.
Slipping into a pair of leather sandals parked by the door, she sported her warmest smile, grasped the knob and opened wide. “Hey, Vic.”
“Hey,” he returned, delivering a fleeting once over on her attire.
She decided shorts would be suitable, since she was in the privacy of her own home. Short, but not too short. “C’mon in,” she replied and made way for him to enter.
“Thanks for coming by.”
“No problem.”
She closed the door behind him and followed him until he stopped mid room.
Light bamboo flooring, her place was sleek and trendy, white walls spotted by an eclectic display of paintings and glass sculptures, her furniture more art than function. Above her dining room table, cool blue lights dangled from the ceiling like glowing sea anemones. The fixture was one of her favorites because it made the connection between the ocean outside—calm, cool, deep and intense—and her spirit. The two resonated on every level.
Scattered throughout the room were candles. All sizes and shapes, she thought their earthy colors and textures provided warmth to the ultra-sleek space and reminded her of the light Divine glowing within; her ultimate guide.
Vic’s gaze eased outside and he let out a low whistle. “Damn, but this is some kind of beautiful.”
Yes it is, she thought and admired the view. Vic was dressed in white Polo shirt and jeans, and she couldn’t help but notice his high and tight backside atop legs that went on forever. Not only good-looking, the man was well built. But then again, Sam indulged in a private smile, she had already deemed Victor Marin to be one fine specimen.
Snapping free from her musings, she walked across the room and opened the sliding glass door. Stepping outside onto the balcony, she invited him to join her.
Vic did so and scanned the horizon. “You’ve got a nice place here.”
“Thanks.” Sam inhaled a chest-full of moist, salt-laced air and relished the instant relaxation that spread through her body. It never failed and served as one of the main reasons she lived here.
Grasping the round metal railing with both hands, she took in the scenery splayed before her like a 3-D canvas and let her vision run. Biscayne Bay was a glorious sight to behold.
Front and center was Rickenbacker, an arched causeway over the water and the sole entrance for Virginia Key, Key Biscayne and Crandon Beach. When she was younger, this was her beach of choice. But as Miami expanded and refurbished, South Beach became her preferred destination for surf and sun. To her left was downtown, a beacon of international commerce and culture and beyond lay the ocean...
The ocean carried her thoughts away. “Whole different feel, isn’t it? Pennsylvania may have some mountains, but nothing opens up your senses like a hundred mile view.”
“No doubt. And modern. I like modern.”
“Me, too.” Sam turned to face him. Drawn by the sharp outline of his profile, she studied the dark features that jumped out against the pastel hues of her building. Was he okay? With the incident now behind him, was it no big deal? Or was he conflicted, brooding over what transpired yesterday?
“What’s that gold thing over there?”
Sam followed the direction he pointed, but it wasn’t necessary. The shiny gold dome was a landmark in this area. “That’s the Seaquarium.”
“Seaquarium?”
“Yes. Kinda like our very own Seaworld right here in Miami. It’s one of the oldest of its kind. Been around as long as I can remember, actually. Just past it is a marina. My family used to stop there on the way home from the beach and watch the fishermen clean the day’s catch.”
He glanced at her. “Do they have shows?”
“They do. There’s even a marine lab next door for students from the University of Miami to conduct research,” she said, and continued to watch him, to study his features.
Vic nodded. “What are those buildings off in the distance?”
She ran her hand along the railing and replied, “Key Biscayne. It’s a mix of homes, small businesses, Crandon Beach and the Cape Florida Lighthouse.”
“You go there much?” he asked, but didn’t turn toward her.
“Used to, but South Beach is the place to be now,” she said. “Can I get you something to drink?”
“No thanks.”
“I’ve gone over some arguments for trial,” she began, following the ruse she set. “I’d like you to take a look at them. The file’s inside.”
Vic acknowledged he heard, but seemed reluctant to leave his spot. He took hold of the railing and squeezed, his attention focused outward.
Immersed in the view as he was, she wondered to his state of mind. Did the ocean have the same effect on him as it did on her? Did he feel it, breathe it...let his mind fly far and beyond?