Emergency Contact. Susan Peterson
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Название: Emergency Contact
Автор: Susan Peterson
Издательство: HarperCollins
Жанр: Ужасы и Мистика
Серия: Mills & Boon Intrigue
isbn: 9781472033451
isbn:
“Not really.” He put a hand on her shoulder, trying to ease the tension. “But if you’re feeling concerned about this, I understand. You’ve been through a lot these past few hours.”
A flush crept up the sides of her cheeks and she roughly shrugged off his hand. “Don’t humor me, Ryan. I hate when people play shrink like that.”
“Has that happened to you before—someone playing shrink with your head?”
Rage flashed in her eyes. “More than you’d know. They’re always trying to play around with my brain. Force me to—” She paused. Her head tilted slightly as if she were trying to remember something.
“Force you to what?” he coaxed.
She shook her head as if coming out of a trance. “I don’t know. I don’t want to think about it.” She walked over to the steps of the pool. “I’m taking that swim now.”
“Don’t overdo it,” he warned. Flames shot up around the metal grill. “Dinner will be ready before you know it.”
Tess nodded and hit the water with a sleek, shallow dive, the water bursting over her head and driving the air from her lungs. She glided to the surface and gulped air, and then lowered her head and struck out for the opposite end of the pool with a powerful crawl.
Her muscles stretched and contracted, and her body hummed with satisfaction. No paddling around in the low end of the pool for her. Somehow she knew that, even though she didn’t remember her last name or where she came from, she was a person who loved using her body and pushing it to its limit.
The mind-numbing repetition of doing lap after lap lulled her, giving her a sense of deep relaxation. Her brain seemed to stop fighting her, seemed to forget that she was trying to remember who she was and why she’d been walking in a cornfield.
She dug deeper into the water, the palms of her hands scooping the water backward and propelling her forward. The bubbles whispered past her ears.
When she reached the opposite end, she ducked beneath the surface and executed a perfect flip turn. The soles of her feet hit the wall and she pushed off and headed for the opposite end.
The crampiness in her calf muscles eased and she kicked harder, forcing her arms deeper into the water and reveling in the pull of the water against her shoulder muscles. As she tilted her head for air, she caught a glimpse of Ryan. He had moved closer to the edge of the pool to watch. His stance was relaxed, his expression contemplative.
Tess lapped the pool again, and this time she noticed that he’d moved to sit in the shade, sipping a drink. His steady gaze, with those exquisite blue eyes, was still trained on her. Her stomach growled, but she ignored it, determined to tire herself out before she indulged in food or anything else.
She swam on, numbing her body and mind with the repetitiveness and fierceness of her workout. At lap twenty, something started to niggle at the edge of her awareness—a tiny ripple of discomfort.
She swam harder, dug deeper into the water and ignored the voice, trying to drown it out. She executed another perfect flip turn and headed back toward the deep end, determined to regain the numb feeling she’d obtained at the start of her swim.
But she failed.
From out of nowhere, scraps of pictures flashed across her consciousness, all clamoring for attention. Disembodied voices filled her head. Frantic, Tess tried to push them away. She dug deeper still, drawing on untapped strength. But the images and voices persisted, beating away at her defenses and forcing her to listen. To see.
A fuzzy image of herself strapped to a table.
Pain ripped through her muscles. She floundered and, when she gasped for air, water rushed into her mouth. Chlorine scorched the back of her throat, and she reared up out of the water, trying to breathe. Trying to escape.
But she was blinded by the rush of water and wet clinging strands of her hair. Her arms slapped the surface helplessly, and she urgently tried to find the bottom.
No bottom. She was in the deep end.
She tried kicking, but her arms and legs had turned to lead. The water around her churned and roiled. One last try to reach the low end. But her body failed her, refusing to respond. She started to sink.
As water rushed her mouth, Tess thought how funny it was that she was drowning. An Olympic-caliber swimmer, and she was drowning in a backyard pool.
An odd sense of peace settled over her, cushioning and cradling her. Maybe this was the solution. Maybe she was supposed to simply let go and allow herself to be pulled under.
She stopped struggling.
Water closed over her head, and she sank to the bottom.
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