Page 89 of SEAL of Refuge

The suited man turns and stares at me. “Not the grandfather I’m referring to, Dahlia.”

“Please, I don’t know.”

“It really isn’t personal. I hope you can appreciate that. You deserve none of this, though, and I deserve it all. It’s as simple as that. Business, really.”

“But I didn’t do anything! I don’t want anything!” I continue thrashing in the restraints, but nothing happens.

“Let’s get this over with,” the suited man says. “Death leaves a nasty taste in my mouth.”

I cut through the water, pushing my muscles even harder than I did yesterday. The memories keep trickling back, one at a time. But that was the first time I dreamt of after Mr. Prescott was murdered.

The feeling of the restraints against my body. I know now that they didn’t bind my wrists because it wouldn’t have looked enough like a car accident. I imagine it would have raised quite a few red flags.

I dive down and flip in the water, kicking off the side and pushing toward the other edge of the pool. When I come up and see a blurry shape near the edge of the pool, I choke back a cry of surprise.

“It’s okay, Miss Swanson. I’m one of Mr. Granger’s security guards. I saw the light on and just wanted to make sure everything was okay.”

I let out an embarrassed smile. “Sorry. I’ll be done soon.”

“No worries,” he replies. I can’t make out his expression, but his tone is soft. Friendly. “I grabbed you a warm towel.” He gestures toward the table, but when I look away from him, and toward where I know the table is, a blur of movement catches me out of the corner of my eye.

Before I can scream, I’m plunged beneath the water.

No! Please, God, no!

Two hands hold the top of my head, pressing me down into the pool. I try to pull away, but fingers grip my hair, holding me in place. I scream beneath the water as I fight to break the surface.

Instead of trying to push up, I go farther down, then place both feet on his stomach and push off. Hair is ripped from my scalp, but he releases me, and I swim as fast as I can toward the stairs.

I burst out of the water and suck in a ragged breath.

“Help!” I scream.

“No you don’t,” the man snarls. He grips my ankle as I try to climb out of the pool, and rips it out from beneath me. My head slams into the side of the pool, and the world slows down. Something warm trickles down the side of my face as I’m pulled back into the water.

“Dahlia!” Ryker’s tortured roar fills my ears moments before the man lets me go. A gun fires and hits the man in the chest. He stumbles back and blood seeps into the water. Ryker is right there beside me, in the water, pulling me into his arms.

He carries me out and past Presley, who is holding a gun in his hand, his expression one of fury.