Devil's Advocate: A Dark Mafia Romance (Devil's Playground Book 1) by Vivi Paige (different ereaders .TXT) 📗

Thing is, Lake Michigan sure ain’t got no salt in it. I hit the surface and immediately got washed over by a rearing wave. I swallowed about three gallons before I came out on the other side, sputtering.

“Sophie!” I shouted. I found myself in debris-strewn water, no sign of the Loggias or Sophie in sight. I screamed her name again, my face hurting like crazy from the freezing water.

At least the wetsuit kept me from freezing to death. Yet I had another problem. Like I said, I never was a great swimmer, and when you get yourself down to—ahem—five percent body fat as I have, it can be kind of hard to remain afloat. Unlike most folks, I wasn’t naturally buoyant.

“Oh fuck.” Another big swell loomed over me. I sucked in a gasp of air right before it enveloped me. Back in Miami, I’d ridden the swells up to the top thanks to the salt water. In Lake Michigan, I was being drowned by degrees.

I realized real quick I was going to need some way to stabilize myself before I went searching for Sophie. My strength faded fast, and I knew I had to do something quick. I spied a bit of floating detritus and swam toward it. The little plank of enameled wood had previously been the hull of the Loggia boat. Now it was my lifeline as I struggled to cling to its flimsy surface.

I tried to rest my weight on it, in order to take a break, but it plunged beneath and took me with it. It helped, but it wasn’t enough. I cast my gaze about, spying a black-clad body bobbing not far away. Morbid, but you know what they say about any port in a storm.

I swam toward it as best I could, but a wave I hadn’t seen coming inundated me. I was driven beneath the surface, scrambling frantically with all four limbs to beat my way back to the surface.

I thrust my head above the water and cried Sophie’s name again and again. At last, I heard her holler back.

“Indro!”

I turned about until I spied her, clinging to an orange lifesaver. She kicked her legs, coming toward me as a wave slammed into me. When I came back out, I spat out a stream of disgusting water and saw her a few feet closer. It seemed like the lake itself was working against me, trying to keep me from her.

My side ached with a painful stitch. I struggled to stay afloat, but it was futile. I don’t think I’ve ever felt more despair than I did when I slipped beneath the water that day.

I saw the surface vanish overhead, my hopes along with it. My first concern wasn’t even for myself. I feared Sophie would drown herself trying to save me.

Spots danced before my eyes. I held the air in my lungs until they burned, screaming for release. I knew that if I did that, I would only have cold, chill water to replace it. Just when I felt myself giving in, a hand closed around my arm.

Sophie pulled me up until I was able to grasp the life preserver. The air exploded out of my mouth as I hit the surface. I sucked in big, tasty lungful after lungful, barely able to cling to the life preserver.

“Indro,” she gasped. “Hang on.”

“Well, I wasn’t about to let go,” I muttered.

It was a long swim back to shore, and honestly we probably wouldn’t have made it, even with the life preserver. The wetsuits weren’t the thickest around, and soon the cold began clawing its way through the layers of rubber. Not to mention I’d lost all feeling in my face.

Sophie’s visage had turned dark pink, her bottom lip quivering as we shivered in the cold lake. Then, from behind a heavy swell, a light appeared.

“There’s a boat,” she gasped.

“Yeah, but whose boat?” If it was the Loggias, we were as good as fucked. Though I guess we couldn’t get much more fucked than we already were.

Imagine my relief when the Coast Guard hauled us out of the water. My old man used to make fun of the Coast Guard, saying they were men unfit for the Navy, glorified lifeguards. Well, with all respect to my pop, those glorified lifeguards saved me and Sophie alike.

We spun a bullshit story about having been out on the lake when the storm whipped up and deep-sixed our boat. By that point we were nowhere near the debris left behind by the collision, so they bought it hook, line, and sinker.

No pun intended.

Chapter Thirty-Three

Sophie

Mugs of cocoa didn’t do as much to warm Indro and me as the heated towels the Coast Guard provided. Indro wanted to split as soon as we got back to land, but I convinced him to fill out the paperwork they requested. Using false names, of course.

Fortunately, we didn’t have a strip of identification on us, so no one was about to question them. We were hardly the first victims of a sudden squall to get hauled out of Lake Michigan by the Coast Guard, after all.

Roughly three hours after we’d crashed our boat into the Loggia family’s, Indro and I turned up at my apartment, wearing ill-fitting borrowed sweat suits. I collapsed onto a chair, still shivering.

“That was one hell of a day.”

Indro puttered around in the kitchen, making coffee. His shoulder wound had turned out to be superficial, not even requiring so much as a single stitch. He stripped off his sweatshirt while the coffee brewed and poked the gauze pad taped in place at the Coast Guard station.

“If you pick at that, it will never heal.”

Indro cocked an eyebrow at me. I’m not sure, but I think that was the first time I’d teased him without being mean. A smile stretched his handsome face.

“Okay, MOM,” he said, jabbing a finger at me. “You know, none of this would