He remembers.

I’m almost more horrified for him than myself, even though I’m the one tied up. Because now he remembers everything. And now he hates me just as much as he would have if he’d met me before his accident.

No worse, because now he also hates what we did together. And the baby we made.

It feels like I spend hours inside Dixon’s hateful blue stare. But in actuality, it’s only seconds. Seconds of him glaring at me in the exact same deadly way he glared at those West Virginia bikers. Associates of his, I can now see clearly, with the 20/20 hindsight of true knowledge. That must have been how he just “knew” they were there about his backpack.

Back then, those guys were the enemy and I was the woman he was trying to protect. But now…

Now his uncle asks, “You ready to wipe this impurity and her mulatto abomination from the Earth?”

And I’m so busy looking for any trace whatsoever of Woods inside Dixon Fairgood, that it doesn’t even occur to me to process or protest what his uncle just said.

But then Dixon issues a stony, “Mason.”

And like a leather clad automaton on voice control, his cousin moves toward me.

“No!” I scream. Finally understanding, but still not quite able to believe Dixon is going to kill me along with our unborn baby because of his hateful views. “No!!!”

But then it’s too late. Mason lifts me from the bench like I weigh no more than my one word of protest. Then I’m sailing through the air. Into a place where no sound or safety exists, right before I crash into the water.

I struggle against my fate, even as I realize I’m going to die.

I keep my eyes open against the sting of the cold salt water, fighting my inevitable death with everything I have, even though I know it’s hopeless.

I fight and fight. Until the ropes around my hands suddenly give way, the knot coming undone as easily as a shoe lace.

My arms are free!

Now I really start struggling, pushing my arms against the water, trying to get up to the sweet, sweet air. But the engine tied around my legs is heavy, and despite my adrenaline and desperation, my arms are starting to weaken. I’m simply not strong enough to—

My desperate thoughts are interrupted by a cannonball hitting the water.

No, not a cannonball, but…

My eyes widen. Confusion temporarily shorting out my panic as I see a man whip around, searching…until he sees me and makes a beeline.

I haven’t made much progress, but I’m close enough to the light above the water’s surface to realize that it’s Mason. And he’s got a huge knife in his hand.

What the…? Oh no!

He reaches out to me, and I fight him. But I’m no match. He easily grabs me around the waist, pulling me in close with one arm. And my soul cries out, because I know he’s going to put that knife through my stomach, but then…

I’m suddenly lighter, and just like that, we’re rising. Getting closer and closer to the surface on the power of Mason’s kicks.

And things only get stranger after we break the surface. I’m busy trying to cough up water and breathe and tread at the same time. But he seems intent on some kind of mission. He only gives me a few moments to finish coughing before pulling me backwards into a rescue hold. He paddles us back toward the old tugboat and doesn’t stop until we reach the place where a short metal ladder hangs down from the side.

I grab ahold of the structure gratefully, still coughing up water. But the oxygen must have brought back my rational brain, because I pause halfway up, not sure what to do.

On the one hand, I don’t want to take my chances back in the ocean, especially with no land whatsoever in sight. On the other hand, the last time I checked, the only thing on this tugboat was a group of bikers who wanted me dead. Including the father of my baby.

“Go!” Mason shouts behind me, ending my indecision. “Get back on the fucking boat!”

I climb, liking my odds on the boat way better than down in the water, especially now that my hands are untied and my feet are weight free.

And just as I’m about to crest the top of the ladder, a familiar hand reaches out. One that’s touched every single part of my body.

I take it, more out of surprise than anything.

And Dixon hauls me back onto the boat, gathering me into his arms in a way that feels both foreign and familiar. Yes, I remember the hug, but the leather jacket he’s wearing is cold and unforgiving against my cheek.

He takes the jacket off and tries to wrap it around me. But I shake my head. Even as cold as I am, I do not want that thing anywhere near my body.

“Mason, get her a blanket,” he calls out. And a moment later, I’m wrapped up in a blanket even warmer than Dixon’s arms.

He takes my face in both his hands, “You okay?” he demands. “Are you okay?”

“Wh-what did you drug me with to get me out here?”

He gives me the name of the same anesthesia I’d seen used to put pregnant women under when they need gallbladder surgery.

“How much?”

Again he answers with a dosage number I can live with. “Okay,” I say, releasing a shaky breath. “I was only down there for a few minutes. At this early stage I’m most likely fine, like I just took a swim. But I’ll schedule an ultrasound to make sure on Monday.”

“Thank God.” He hugs me again. “It was the only way to get you clear while I took care of them. Or else I never wouldn’t have chanced it.”

The only way? Now that my initial diagnosis is done, my trembling mind struggles to process his words. What reason could he possibly have for kidnapping me? Having me tossed in the ocean? Taking such a chance with two lives, one of which is still extremely fragile?

As if hearing my questions spoken out loud, he tells me, “They were going to come after you. I had to play along. Get them out here. Then get you clear, so I could make sure they never threatened you or the baby again.”

I pull out of his embrace, because I still don’t understand, much less comprehend his words. Until suddenly I can, because that’s when I see what I couldn’t when his arms were around me…

All the dead bodies now strewn across the tugboat’s floor.

“Don’t look,” he implores me.

But how can I not? Every single biker from before, every single biker other than Mason, is now dead on the boat’s deck.