Deadly Lies (Deadly #3)(69)

“My plane had just landed in Jasper, and I was walking through the terminal. Well,” she gave that same weak laugh, one that held no humor, “that’s what they tell me, anyway. I don’t really remember much about the airport. I just remember waking up and being tied to a chair in some cabin.”

When she sucked in a sharp breath, Max realized that his fingers had pressed too tightly around her hip. He forced his hold to ease. “What did he do?”

Her lashes swept down. “Does anything scare you, Max?”

You do. “I was scared as hell that I wouldn’t get Quinlan back alive. When I got to the hospital and found my mother in a coma because she’d overdosed on her pain pills, yeah, I was scared.” Terrified. “I know fear. Everybody does.”

“But you’re scared for others.” Her lashes rose. “You’re like Monica. Both of you—you’re strong.”

“So are you.” Absolute certainty.

The covers rustled as she shifted against him. “I need to—I have to get up.”

He didn’t want her to move, but he wouldn’t force her to stay with him. So he pulled back his hand and let his fingers graze her silken skin as he released her.

Samantha all but jumped from the bed. She hurried to the vanity and picked up a robe. Her arms shook a bit as she pulled it on and tied the belt. Protecting herself.

She paced a bit, and then stopped near the side of the bed. He eased up, sitting, and kept the sheet over his hips as he waited. This moment was important for her, and he wouldn’t rush her, even though he was desperate to find out—

“If I’d been stronger, he wouldn’t have broken me so quickly.” Her arms crossed over her chest. “By the end, I was begging him to let me die.”

The nightmare she’d had—dammit. Max was out of the bed and on his feet in an instant. So much for holding onto his control. He needed to hold her. His hands closed around her upper arms and he pulled her against him. “What did he do?”

“I told you before. When I was a kid, I-I almost drowned at my parents’ lake house.”

And she’d said her mother… hell, she didn’t even notice because she was so drunk. Not like he’d forget that story any time soon.

Her breath heaved out. “I hated the water after that. Hated it. My mom—she started working to get sober, and when she was better, she wanted me better.”

“You? What was wrong—”

“Every time she tried to get me to so much as dip my toes in the pool,” she said, cutting across his words, “I started shaking. If I thought I’d have to get in the water, I’d have a panic attack. My mom took me to see some shrinks. About half a dozen of them. They said I had hydrophobia—”

She broke off and shook her head. “Like I needed those guys to tell me that I was afraid of the damn water.”

“It’s normal to be afraid after an event like that.”

“So they said,” she murmured. “They also said that I could work my way past the fear.” She breathed out a long sigh. “But I just said screw ’em. I didn’t like the water, and I sure didn’t want to go jumping in it again.”

And then the Watchman had come along.

Her gaze darted to his, and Samantha said, “When I woke up, tied in that chair, I heard the water lapping nearby, and I knew what he was going to do.” The words were so low that he had to strain to hear them. “I just didn’t think… I didn’t think he’d bring me back so many times.”

He shook his head because he had to be wrong. No way did she mean—

“After the fifth time he killed me in that water, then brought me back—his mouth on mine, his breath in my lungs—I stopped counting. And I started begging him to let me die.”

He dragged her against his chest and held her close to his heart. No, no, f*ck, no.

“Do you know what it’s like to drown?” Her voice was still whisper quiet, but unfocused now and weak.

“No,” he bit out and tightened his arms around her. His hands were in her hair, and her body pressed against his. Soft. Warm. Alive.

“Most people think drowning is fast and easy, but it’s not. Every second stretches for so long, and your throat closes and your lungs burn, and you want that air so badly.” The words tumbled out in a quick whirl, gaining strength and getting louder. “Your temples explode, and the pain comes in, hitting in waves just like the water, and then—then you start to sink. Your body won’t work. You can’t kick anymore, you can’t claw the water, you can just sink and the water gets darker and—”

“Samantha!” He shook her, and her head whipped back. She blinked and seemed to see him.

Her lips pressed together. Silence held for a beat of time, then she told him, “It’s not easier the second time. Or the third or—”

Tears slid down her face. His lips feathered over her cheek and tasted the wet salt. “You survived.”

“No.”

His head lifted, and he found himself staring into the dark pools of her eyes.

“I died that day,” she told him. “And no matter what I did in the months after that, I couldn’t come back. I couldn’t live.” She swiped her tongue over her lips. “My control was gone. Fear rode me constantly, and I just wanted to break away. I wanted to pretend I wasn’t the damaged agent.”