Safe Harbour. Marie Ferrarella

his mind, teasing his subconscious as he tried to place it, tried to remember if he’d ever heard it before.

      The words she was saying were becoming more distinct, more audible. He could almost make them out.

      Almost.

      But they still seemed garbled.

      Try as he might, he couldn’t fight his way to the surface either, up above this oppressive hazy cloud that enshrouded him and was keeping him down.

      CHAPTER SIX

      THERE WAS A LIGHT, just a glimmer of it, really, winking in and out along the water far above his head. At first, it seemed to be more than an infinity away.

      Unreachable.

      But he knew that if he could just hold on long enough to break through the surface, then he could get some air for his all but bursting lungs.

      He’d be all right then. He’d be all right.

      It was miles and miles away, but he couldn’t give up. Couldn’t. He had to reach it. Giving up was for losers and he wasn’t a loser.

      Given a losing hand at birth, he’d still found a way not to lose.

      Hadn’t he proven that already? Beating the odds, surviving the bad neighborhoods, the indifferent families who gave him a bed to sleep in but were only in it for the money?

      He was nobody’s kid.

      Just a kid.

      But he didn’t let it break him, didn’t let it drag him down. He’d hung on, struggled, made something of himself. Made a difference.

      Where was it? Where was the surface? It had to be here somewhere.

      With his very last ounce of strength, he finally broke through, finally made it to the top of the water.

      Air, sweet, wonderful air.

      He gulped it in, trying to get enough. Trying to make up for the numbing lack of it.

      His temples were pounding, his body aching something fierce. And there was this all-engulfing pain—more like a fire—that had taken over his left side.

      Orientation followed.

      He remembered.

      Remembered what had happened, remembered why he’d almost succumbed to the watery grave.

      Spinning around, he searched for the cabin cruiser. Instead of right beside him, it was now some distance away.

      Heading away from him.

      No matter, getting back on it wasn’t exactly a viable option. He was outnumbered, outgunned. The only way it would work for him—for his survival—was if he managed to get the drop on all of them and in his present condition, that wasn’t a possibility.

      He had one chance, only one. He had to swim for shore.

      But which way was it?

      Slowly turning, moving in a circle, he searched for the vaguest signs of land. There had to be something.

      Something.

      He thought he heard seagulls and searched for them even though he knew they could just as easily be heading for the open water as they could for land. He searched anyway.

      There was nothing else to cling to.

      And then he saw them. Saw two seagulls descending in the distance.

      Disappearing in the distance.