Underwater

“So, do you think she can swim?” The Thug asked jokingly.1

“I doubt it.” The other said seriously. “Not with all those ropes around her.”2

“Let me go, you bastards!” I swore angrily. In the past twenty four hours, I’d been drugged, tied up and held for ransom by the brothers psychotic over there who were about to throw me off the pier. Suffice to say I was not a happy camper. The sun was setting under the horizon, painting the sky bright orange and pink. It would have been beautiful were it not for my immediate demise looming in front of me. I never quite learned how to swim.3

“It’s Five Fifty Nine.” Thug 2 said. “Your father has one minute to show up with the money or you’ll be sleeping with the fishies.” He said to me.4

“Clichés aside.” A familiar voice spoke behind us. “Let the girl go.”5

I knew who he was immediately but I was straining my neck to see him anyway. It was Jett Anderson… the man Father had hired to be my body guard. I didn’t particularly like Jett; (He was only a few years older than me and about as friendly as a crocodile) but at that moment, I took back every rude thing I ever said behind his back. He stood at the edge of the pier, his black hair waving slightly in the breeze, his green eyes fixed on me.6

“Do you have the three million?” Thug 2 demanded.7

“Nope.” Jett said.8

“That bastard.” I swore again, my mouth hanging open. “That dirty cheapskate! He doesn’t even pay the ransom on his own damn daughter!”9

It was at that moment that I felt Thug 1’s boot collide with my stomach and my body falling backwards into the ocean.10

The Thug had thrown me over mid rant so I was now shouting through a mouthful of water and sinking deeper into the depths. Already it was getting dark and as I choked silently, it dawned on me that I was going to die. I struggled vainly for what seemed like an eternity, grasping desperately for the surface, but it was useless bound as I was. I felt the blackness over take me.11

Then I felt his arms circle around me and suddenly I could breathe again. I opened my eyes and saw him. Jett Anderson’s lips were pressed hard against mine and his breath entered my body. He clasped me close to his chest and began to swim to the surface, carrying me as though I were a rag doll. He was still kissing me and I felt weak at his touch. His lips were surprisingly soft, though every thing at that moment tasted like sea water. He watched me, glaring at me with those striking green eyes, as though willing me to live. We hit the surface with a loud crash and, to my inexplicable disappointment, Jett stopped kissing me and, muttering a swear word, pulled out his gun.12