Holding the seat cushions by their built-in straps, I pulled Julianne out of her seat and looped her left arm around my shoulder and my right arm around her waist. I needed the perfect moment. Low enough so the impact didn’t injure us, but not so close to shore we hit bottom. Or worse, land.

“What are you doing?” she repeated.

When we descended to thirty feet, the beach coming up fast, I made my move. Scooping in a deep breath, I held Julianne tight against my body and jumped.

She screamed all the way down.

There will be times when you must work with other operatives,” The Instructor said. “Rely on your counterpart to put his mission first, always, and you do the same. As long as you share the same goal, you don’t need to worry about trust.”

The water hit my feet first, slapping them hard, the force shuddering up my legs and through my spine. Cold enveloped my body and closed over my head. Moments after we submerged, I lost Julianne.

I was only under for a few seconds, just enough time to stop my downward trajectory and fight my way to the surface, but it felt like forever.

It felt like I was going to die.

I almost—almost—freaked out, but peeking through the water, eyes stinging, I could see the sun glinting off the waves above me, and my arms and legs scrambled hard and fast, like I was crawling up out of a grave.

When my head broke the surface, I gasped too soon. Salt water filled my mouth, making me gag and cough. Above, the helicopter blades continued to beat out their rhythm.

Julianne’s blond head broke the surface just two feet away. She stared with panicked eyes. Reaching out, she clawed at me like a frightened kitten.

I grabbed her hands and did my best to control her, keeping us both afloat with a scissors kick. I knew how to swim well enough, and once I got myself beyond the terror of being plunged into water, I could do okay. But that didn’t make it easy. Julianne’s grabbing and thrashing made keeping my own fear in check more challenging.

When panicked, a drowning swimmer can pull down anyone attempting a rescue. If this kept up, I would have to dive deep, forcing her to choose between holding onto me or self-preservation. Once she let go, I would be able to secure her with a cross chest carry.

I preferred it wouldn’t go that far. I’d drowned once before and didn’t care to risk repeating the experience.

“Julianne, I have you. It’s all right.” I looked straight into her panicked blue eyes and kept repeating the words. Finally she focused, and I seemed to break through.

I caught sight of a seat cushion carried on the waves, too far away to justify the effort to fetch it. Instead I placed Julianne’s hands on my shoulders, so I could perform a tired swimmer’s assist.

“Lean back and float.”

Miraculously she did as I said, her legs coming up on either side of me. Moving my arms and legs in a modified breast stroke, I pushed us both toward shore.

When I finally touched sand, my muscles were so fried I wasn’t sure I could walk. We emerged from the water and limped up on a strip of land flanked by a crowded, summertime beach and a waterside restaurant, its parking lot nearly empty in the hours between lunch and dinner.

Julianne leaned against me, her steps uneven as we wound through swimmers and sunbathers scattered along the beach’s edge. People eyed her dripping clothes, but no one spoke or tried to help.

Overhead, the helicopter hovered high in the sky, its blades still beating staccato. No doubt the pilot had seen us come out of the water. Hawk Nose and whatever men he had left would be descending on the beach soon. We needed to be gone when they arrived.

I dipped a hand in the purse still slung diagonally across my chest and brought out my phone.

After locating a sign proclaiming the beach’s rules, I texted the name to the number Jacob had given me.

I sure as hell hoped Morrissey was close. If he didn’t arrive soon, we’d have to make a run for it and hope there was a train station nearby. At least I had the cash Jacob had stashed in the purse.

“You … threw me out of a helicopter,” Julianne said. Her tone was belligerent.

“It was the only way.”

“I’m sure there were other ways. There had to be other ways.”

“There weren’t.”

“You’re crazy.” She yanked her arm away and stumbled on her own for a few steps.

I caught up, grabbing the crook of her arm.

“I’m here to help you.”

“Get the hell away from me.”

“Those men weren’t working for a modeling agency, Julianne,” I said. “You were right to be afraid of them.”

“You threw me out of a helicopter, you crazy bitch.”

Standing there with her hands fisted by her side, she reminded me of how young she actually was. And how stupid. But I couldn’t be too angry. After all, as many mistakes as she’d made, I was still about half a dozen up at her age.

“Those men are human traffickers, Julianne. Ever hear of sexual slavery?”

She shook her head.

“They sell girls. They were planning to sell you.”

“What?”

“You think normal modeling agents carry guns around? They’re going to sell you to some rich asshole overseas, where you’ll be raped and killed.”

Her eyes went out of focus. She stammered something I couldn’t decipher.

“What are you on?” I asked, squinting into her eyes. “What did they give you?”

“Leave me alone.”

Her pupils looked normal. From the slightly slurred speech, and the lack of coordination, I guessed it was something in the diazepam family, Valium, maybe Xanax.

“Julianne, you have to listen to me and do whatever I say. We’re not safe here.”

“If you don’t leave me alone, I’m gonna start screaming.”

I saw her take a deep breath. Screaming would draw attention, which would draw Hawk Nose.

I raised my hand and slapped her, hard, wet palm against wet cheek.

Her eyes went wide.

“I don’t give a shit if you don’t believe me, or you’re confused, or the drugs are clouding your head. These are dangerous men, Julianne. You’re in trouble, and if you don’t do exactly what I say, when I say it, I’ll knock out every one of your teeth, and then any chance you might have at a modeling career will be gone. Got it?”

She nodded quickly. “I … I …”

“Shut up and come with me.”

I took her by the hand and led her into an overpriced gift shop in the beach parking lot. After spending a minute working the rolled up fifty dollar bill out of my purse lining, I bought each of us a Red Bull and ordered Julianne to drink hers. They didn’t have first aid kits, and the bandages they sold were too small for my wound, but they had the next best thing—super glue. I dripped half a tube onto the bullet burn, effectively stopping the bleeding. It was ugly, but effective.

The limo pulled up just as we walked back outside.

Morrissey lowered the window. “I think everyone east of Oyster Bay saw you jump out of the helicopter. Cops will be here any second.” He eyed my shoulder. “Are you bleeding?”

“I was. I took care of it.”

“Is she?”

“No.”

“You sure?”

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