The Freedom Broker (Thea Paris #1)(98)

Dazed, dangling, she spotted Nikos bouncing beside her on another bungee cord. “You need to stop living Papa’s lie,” he shouted as he smashed into her again, his left hand grabbing a large clump of her hair. She turned her body sideways and crooked her right leg, uncoiling a vicious kick to his chest. A loud grunt. Sharp, stinging pain flared in her scalp as he swung away, taking a handful of hair with him.

He came for her again but swung past without contact. She scrambled for her knife. Her hand connected with her boot, but she couldn’t lift her pant leg fast enough.

In the meantime, Nikos had encircled her so that their cords were now intertwined.

She rotated in the opposite direction to unlink the twisted ropes, but Nikos’s fist hammered her jaw. She tasted blood. He spun around her again. The knife. She needed it now. In close quarters, he would overpower her.

Nikos swung toward her, but she arched out of the way, yanking up her pant cuff. His foot connected with her lower back. Pain shot deep into her left kidney; white spots blurred her vision. Their faces were inches apart. His lips curled in rage. “How dare you choose Papa over me?”

All these years, she’d never seen this Nikos. Love and guilt had blinded her.

His breath was hot against her cheek. The pungent stench of gasoline flooded her nose. She flashed on the General, his necklacing. She understood now—all this was payback.

She tried to twist away, but his hands closed around her neck, crushing her windpipe as they swung back and forth, awkwardly spinning above the river. She chopped at his arms, but his grip was impenetrable.

Can’t breathe. Darkness descended. She curled her leg underneath her, her fingers connecting with the blade’s handle. She pulled it out and sawed desperately at her cord.

Nikos drew her face to his, his hands still wrapped around her throat. “You were supposed to choose me. Not him. You were supposed to love me.”

“I do love you,” she gasped.

Snap.

Her full weight ripped her out of his hands and sent her hurtling toward the river.

The impact of the water hammered into her like a truck, and she plunged down, the cold river swallowing her. She clung to the knife as her body tumbled in the vicious currents.

The sound of roaring water hit her ears when she broke the surface. A deep gasp, and she coughed repeatedly. Her throat burned. Her lungs heaved, greedy for air. She looked right, left, trying to orient herself. Nikos was still in the sky, hanging from his cord. She scanned the water for her father.

Papa lay face up in a slower-moving eddy created by a collection of rocks near the shore. His left hand clung to an outcropping, but the swirling water could suck him down the rapids any second now.

She swam to him, keeping an eye out for crocs. His skin was pale, but he was conscious. He’d lost a tremendous amount of blood from the gunshot wound.

“Can’t move my arm. Hurts.” His teeth were clenched, his eyelids fluttering. His right arm hung a few inches low and wide—his shoulder had been dislocated from being yanked by the bungee cord, but it had saved his life.

“You’re going to be okay.” She looked around, searching for a way out of the water. Rif was scrabbling down the escarpment, followed by Gabrielle. She’d never been so happy to see him.

A loud splash caught her attention. She turned. Nikos had dropped into the river, surfacing not far from them.

Her brother wasn’t giving up.

She waved her arm high in the air, yelling to Rif. “Take care of Papa.”

Her father looked into her eyes. “Don’t leave me.”

“Rif is here; he’ll help.”

She swam away from shore, inserting herself between brother and father.

“It’s over, Nikos. Let it go.”

“Get out of my way.” Her brother’s powerful arms made short work of the distance between them.

“I’m not your enemy, Nikos. Neither is Papa.”

“You made your choice.” He reached out with one large hand and shoved her head underwater. She dove down and resurfaced to his right, slicing the knife deep into his shoulder. His right arm flapped beside his torso, pouring blood into the water. She kicked him in the gut, forcing them apart.

The current was carrying them toward the rapids. She looked for something to grab on to, watching in horror as two crocs slipped off the shoreline into the water, their powerful tails driving them forward.

Nikos closed the distance between them, swimming strongly despite his injured arm.

Blood poured from his shoulder, hatred from his eyes. His left fist slammed square into her nose. Her head snapped back. Dizziness threatened. She sliced at him again with the knife, only grazing his left biceps.

Seconds away from the rapids, the current accelerated, trying to suck them below the surface. Water splashed into Thea’s face, mouth, and nose.

Nikos grabbed hold of her right wrist and twisted hard. She felt a bone crack, followed by intense pain. The knife sank into the water.

She tried to head-butt her brother, but he ducked to the side.

His full weight was suddenly on top of her, his left arm holding her tightly, forcing her underwater. The dark river turned her world black.

He’d expect her to panic, flail. But fighting would expend too much energy, and he could overpower her at close quarters. Instead, she’d use the river. She went slack, every muscle soft. Her lungs burned, desperate for oxygen, but she allowed the undertow to suck them downriver. Not long now.