by Mona Risk
Her flip-flop slippers dangling from her hand, she tiptoed out of the room, and grabbed her keys from the horseshoe hook hanging on the corridor wall. After shoving her phone into her pocket and wearing her slippers, she silently walked out of the apartment and rode the empty elevator to the basement garage leading to the beach terrace.
A moment later, she took off her dress, stuffed her keys into its pocket, and left it on a chair with her flip-flops. She had often swum in the early morning and delighted at seeing both the terrace and the beach deserted. A little paradise that belonged only to her—at least until the crowd of sunbathers invaded the sand. The ocean scent she grew up with beckoned with a sure promise of relaxation.
Not wasting time, she dove into the crystal clear ocean, swam vigorously away from the shore, came back, and repeated the strenuous exercise several times. Finally tired from the effort, she eased on her back and floated. Arms spread and eyes closed, she welcomed the early morning peace and the comforting din of the light surf.
Things would get better soon. Focusing on happy moments with Dante, she coached herself to relax and unwind. A picture of Dante, holding her and kissing her, popped into her mind, bringing a surge of cheerful tingles to her stomach and a wave of tenderness to her heart. Rejuvenated, she smiled, ready to tackle the day with renewed energy.
Time to go back. She opened her eyes and startled at the sight of a masked face bending over her.
No. A hand slammed her mouth shut. Her cry didn’t reach her lips. An arm coiled around her neck. Help. Her scream clogged her throat. Hoping to free herself, she clutched her attacker’s head with both hands and clawed at his face. Only to feel a ski mask under her fingers. So he came prepared to kill and escape, unrecognized.
Help. “Don’t kill me,” she pleaded against the palm gagging her. Incoherent sounds reached her ears. No one could hear her. No one would come.
He pushed her down, under water.
Save yourself, girl.
She wriggled and spun. Like an android out of control, she kicked and punched in all directions, hitting him in the groin. The man released her throat. She propelled herself up and managed to surface.
“You bitch,” he groaned. Grabbing her hair, he yanked hard, submerged her again, and dragged her lower and lower.
Don’t panic. Think. Quickly. She’d always been a good swimmer, winning competitions. She couldn’t let a killer drown her. Holding her breath as she’d learned during her underwater ballet lessons, she let herself sink to the bottom and remained motionless, playing dead and praying that her ploy would fool him. The man kicked her back with his foot one last time and swam away.
Thank God, it worked. Gathering her failing strength, she crawled at the bottom of the ocean, counting the seconds, afraid to emerge. Her lungs ached, about to burst with her effort. Yet she retained her breath and kept counting. Hundred, hundred and one, hundred and... Unable to stay under water any longer, she surfaced and gasped for air. Would he come back and attack her again?
Rattling from the shore, a rumbling noise hammered her brain. Her heart pounded. Don’t wait like a lamb. Open your eyes. Do it. She forced herself to look at the beach.
On the right, a man in black shorts strode away from her building, away from the bulldozer that cleaned the sand every morning. She needed help. The driver could save her. She swam and staggered to the shore, tottered, and stumbled in front of the oncoming vehicle. “Help, help.”
The driver cut the engine and jumped out his bulldozer. “Ma’m, are you sick?”
“Yes,” she hiccupped. “Take me... Blue Waves.”
He helped her up and supported her across the width of the beach to the terrace.
“Alexa.” Dante’s shout was the sweetest sound she’d ever heard. He ran toward her, pulled her in his arms. “What happened?”
“The lady was swimming and felt sick,” the driver explained. “She collapsed in front of my bulldozer and asked for help.”
“Thank you. I’ll take care of her.” Dante put an arm under her knees and carried her to the terrace.
****
Scrutinizing her face, Dante set her on a chair and bent over her. “You got sick? Stomach sick?” She looked deathly pale, with wet hair plastered all over her cheeks. Scrunched eyes attested to her pain. Yet she didn’t utter a sound. “Alexa, tell me what happened.”
“Drowned,” she whispered. “He tried... kill me.” Her words were barely audible.
“Someone tried to drown you?” Had he heard correctly? Dread pooled in his stomach.
She grasped her chest and curled up on her chair. Short frayed breaths escaped her open mouth.
A spasm tingled at the base of his neck. “Dio, you can hardly breathe. I’m calling an ambulance and the police.”
“No. no.” Shaking her head frantically, she grabbed his arm. “No. You...take me...hospital,” she spat, and then gulped air. “Not others.”
Dante scooped her into his arms and rushed to the garage and his car. Her panic squeezed his gut. Guilt overwhelmed him. A killer had tried to drown her while Dante slept comfortably in her bed. Who and why?
He revved his engine and drove out of their building. No traffic clogged the streets at this early hour. He immediately sped above the limit. A moment later, a police car signaled to stop. “Officer, we need help. The lady almost drowned. She has chest pain. I’m taking her to the hospital,” Dante recited.
“Follow me. We’ll go to Holy Cross,” the policeman said.
The siren blared in the silence as they zoomed to the hospital. By the time, Dante stopped in front of the ER entrance, the cop had already notified the reception, and a volunteer pushed a wheelchair to the car. Dante climbed out of his BMW, opened the door for Alexa. She collapsed in the awaiting wheelchair.
“The officer already told us she has chest pain.” The orderly wheeled her through an automatic door. “I’ll park the car and join you in a sec,” Dante called.
When he entered the ER, the nurse at the front desk directed him to one of the examination rooms. Raw emotions boiled inside him. His breath hitched at the sight of Alexa in a hospital gown, eyes closed and deathly pale, with an oxygen tube inserted in her nose and her golden brown hair mussed over the pillow. A fragile patient so different from the sophisticated young woman he’d known so far. A nurse was sticking electrode patches on her body while another took her blood pressure.
“She said she spent some time under water, holding her breath. No wonder, she has chest pain. Why did you do that, Alexa?” the nurse asked. Tears streamed down Alexa’s cheeks, but she didn’t answer. “Was it a game or something more serious?” Bewildered the nurse frowned while shaking her head. “Your BP is too high. Understandable if you’re very nervous.”
The other nurse announced, “EKG normal.”
Standing next to Alexa’s bed, Dante caressed her forehead. Her eyelids fluttered. She fixed a tired look on him, her beautiful green eyes shimmering with fear and distrust of her surroundings. “You’ll be fine, Alexa.” He was beginning to sound like a broken record to his own ears. His jaws tightened in frustration. How many times had he assured her she’d be fine? Yet, he’d been proven wrong.
“Don’t leave me, please.”
“Never.” He enfolded her cold hand between both of his. She’d been his top priority since his return from Sicily, and he’d been at her side continuously. Except this morning. Someone lurked, ready to hurt her. Who and why?
The policeman stood at the door, his gaze flipping from Alexa to Dante. “Is she in a condition to give us a report?”
“I’m her lawyer. She told me a man wearing a black mask tried to drown her while she was swimming in the ocean. It’s a miracle she managed to survive.”
The policeman pulled a form from a folder he held and scribbled on it. “Any witnesses?”
“No one was there at the time. Later the man cleaning the beach stopped his bulldozer to help her when she collapsed on the sand.”
“Can you please, read this, a
nd have the lady sign here?” the policeman said after recording the information.
Dante carefully read through the written words. “It’s good. She’ll give you more details later when she’s in a better condition.”
After Alexa signed, the policeman tucked the report into his folder. “I’ll file it at the police station. An officer will contact you later. I hope you feel better, Ma’am,” he added.
As soon as he left, Dante texted on his phone, calling the detective. “Ladd will be here soon,” he said to Alexa.
A young man in white coat approached her gurney. “Mrs. Partson, I’m Dr. Morse, the ER attending doctor.” He glanced at Dante. “Are you her husband?”
“No, her lawyer.”
“Can you please step out? I want to examine her.”
“Stay, Dante.” She squeezed his hand, her eyes begging him not to leave her. “Doctor, let him stay. He’s my friend.”
Dr. Morse raised his eyebrows, then shrugged. “Okay.” Without further comments, he examined her with his stethoscope, listened to her lungs, looked into her eyes with a light, poked at her stomach and belly.
“As far as I can see you’re fine, but we’ll have your stomach pumped, in case you swallowed a lot of salt water. And I want an x-ray of your chest. I’ll prescribe pills for your high BP and for anxiety.”
“No drugs, please,” Alexa protested. “I won’t take any.”
The physician crossed his arms over his chest and studied her. “They would help you. You’ve obviously been through a big shock.”
She shook her head frantically. “No drugs.”
Dr. Morse glanced at Dante who nodded. “She’s never taken sedatives and doesn’t like them.”
“In that case, we’ll continue the oxygen, and keep you here under observation for a few hours.”
Alexa sighed.
“Much better, thank you, doctor.” Dante offered her a reassuring smile.
“The nurse will take you for an x-ray, now.”
“Dante,” Alexa called.
“I’m coming with you.”
****
An hour later, Alexa rested in the ER room, lungs x-rayed and stomach pumped. Sitting by her bed, Dante held her hand, glad that she’d recovered from her previous panic. With the oxygen tube still in her nose, she seemed to breathe better than when he’d brought her to the emergency room.
“How did you come on time to help me?”
“Not on time. Unfortunately. When I woke up, I glanced out of the balcony and saw you relaxing and floating on your back. So I decided to join you for a swim. That scum must have attacked you while I was on my way to the beach. Can you tell me what happened exactly?”
She related her terrifying ordeal. “Do you think someone else may have seen him?”
Thank God, she was back to her logical self, questioning and analyzing. “Difficult to tell at that early hour. It’ll be up to Detective Ladd to find out.”
“Find out what?” The detective stood at the door, as if mentioning his name had attracted him to her room.
“Someone tried to kill Alexa.”
“Hold on.” The detective switched on his little recorder and pulled his yellow pad and pencil. “Go on.”
She repeated her story.
“How could you hold your breath for so long under water?”
“It’s a technique I’ve learned in water ballet. I covered my mouth and nose with my hand, and concentrated on counting the seconds. Except I did it for too long. My chest hurt and I started swallowing water.”
“Were you able to identify your attacker?”
“He had a ski mask. I felt the knitted material when I tried to scratch his face.”
Ladd kept scribbling on his pad. “Did anyone see him attacking you?”
“I don’t know. I was too busy struggling to save myself. Maybe the bulldozer driver saw my attacker. Maybe one of the neighbors was on the balcony and witnessed the scene.”
His eyebrows scrunched. “I will certainly interrogate them.”
“Your suspect in Bairey’s death is the same one who tried to kill me.” Hopefully, the morning’s dreadful episode had let her off the hook.
“That has still to be proven.” Ladd’s ominous tone grated on her nerves, but Dante’s finger rubbed against her palm, warning her to watch her words. She sighed and clamped her jaws.
How would she have survived today, if not for Dante’s unwavering support? Would he always be ready to bail her out of trouble? Don’t count on it, girl. Greg had offered his help, support, and love. Where had that led?
But Dante was not Greg.
“Anything else? Mrs. Partson, are you listening?”
No, she was not. And she hated to be called, Mrs. Partson. Especially when she’d stopped being Mrs. Partson three years ago, and didn’t want to be reminded of her old ex.
“Mrs. Parts—”
“Please, stop calling me that. I’m divorced.”
“Oh? Isn’t that your official name, Alexa Partson?”
Dante’s thumb stroked her again and his warm fingers enveloped her hand. “Alexa would prefer to be called by her name. Or Ms. Alexa if you insist on being formal,” Dante added with a chuckle.
Ladd raised a sarcastic eyebrow and shrugged. “We’re done. I hope you feel better soon, Ms. Alexa.” He glanced at Dante. “Wherever you two go, make sure I can reach you. I’ll see you tomorrow at the funeral.” He left, and she glared at his back.
“How do you feel now?” Dante asked after the detective left.
“I’m good. The chest pain is gone and I can breathe normally.” She slipped out the oxygen tube and inhaled. “Really, I’m well enough to check out. But...”
“Yes?”
“I don’t want to go home. Oh Dante, I’ll look at every man in the building and wonder if he was the one who attacked me.”
“It’s a good way to be continuously on your guard. But I’ll be with you. All the time,” he added with a tender smile that reached deep into her heart.
Yes, Dante was not like Greg. She brought their entwined hands to her mouth and pressed her lips on his fingers.
He bent and kissed her cheek. “Hey, we can’t start something here. In an ER room. Unless...” He grinned, waggled his eyebrows, and then went to close the door.
“Are you crazy? The medics will kick me out.” Her pulse accelerated, but she chuckled at his antics.
“If they catch us.” They burst out laughing. He leaned over her and gave her a searing kiss. Winding her arms around his neck, she pulled him over her, delighted to forget her misery in his arms, and eagerly returned his kiss. The hospital loud speaker intruded on their delightful interlude. Alexa remembered her surroundings. Snatching her mouth away, she buried her head against his shoulder. “Take me out of here, Dante.”
He released her and straightened. “I’ll see if the doctor can discharge you.”
“I wish I could shower.” She scratched her neck and grimaced. “Sorry, I’m itchy. Can you please ask a nurse to bring me a wet towel? I want to wipe away the salt water and sand.”
Half an hour later, she was wheeled out of the ER, refreshed by a sponge bath, and covered with a blanket thrown over her beach dress. While waiting for Dante to get his car, she switched on her cell phone. Damn, Greg had left four messages. She shoved the phone back into her pocket. Dante pulled up to the curb and helped her settle inside his car as carefully as if she were made of porcelain. She chuckled when he leaned over her to buckle her seatbelt. “I can do it. Really, I’m good.”
Except that deep in her heart, she still shivered at the thought that a killer had tried to drown her and the bastard was running lose. Maybe watching her.
“Greg already called several times,” she said after Dante exited the parking lot.
Dante glanced at her. “So, are you going to tell him about today?”
“No, I don’t need his sympathy or his help.” She vehemently shook her head. From now on she’d stand her ground. Her brush wit
h death had taught her a valuable lesson. To count only on herself and not let any man control her. “I just want to stay in my apartment in peace.”
“We’ll be home in a few minutes.” Dante squeezed her hand. “I know it’s been a horrible day for you, and I can’t forgive myself for not waking up on time to be there when you needed help.”
“You couldn’t guess what would happen.” She snorted, but tears filled her eyes. She wiped them with the back of her hand, furious at herself for this new bout of emotion.
“From now on, I’m sticking to you.” He smiled and then winked. She couldn’t help laughing at his amorous attempt in the ER. “Aren’t you supposed to go to work?”
“I’ll call the office to give a few instructions to my junior lawyers, and then work from home. Actually, we could stop now before going back home. Would you like to visit my office?”
“Yes. But...” She looked at her beach dress and his t-shirt and swim trunks. “We’re not presentable.”
“If we go back to our condos to get dressed, we won’t be able to leave for some time, what with Greg and others calling.” He made a sudden U-turn. “We’ll make a quick stop at the Mall. Do you think you can buy an outfit in ten minutes?” His eyebrow rose in challenge.
Amused, she shrugged. “In general, it takes me hours to choose a dress, but I’ll do it in ten minutes while you buy yourself a decent pair of pants.”
“No, we stick together, remember. I’m coming with you, and then I’ll drag you to the men’s department.”
“What a fun experience.”
What a nice, cozy experience. Shopping with Dante, like a married couple. Her heart tightened, wishing, hoping... She stiffened, smashing the lid on crazy wishes. No more men in her life. When this horrible episode ended she’d be on her own, for a long time.
Picking a black skirt and black and white printed shirt, she rushed into the dressing room, and then modeled it for Dante. “Not your usual style, but lovely on you. You look like a career woman. Keep them on.” He called a seller. “My friend likes this outfit and wants to wear it right away. Can you ring it for me?”
“Sure.” The woman tore the tags, rang the sale, and then put Alexa’s beach dress in a bag.