I’d kill those sonsabitches.
They’d ambushed me on the deck, beat the s**t out of me, and pushed me over the rig into shark-infested waters—leaving my ass for dead.
Where the hell was I?
was What happened to my clothes?
The solid ground beneath me was a relief. So was being alive.
The surf turned out to be the first thing I heard after waking to the feel of two feminine hands on my chest. She used me as her own personal resting board to peer down at my face. She was looking at me. I made that out even with my eyes closed.
Not sure how long I remained out after the ambush and the beating those fuckers gave me, nor how I got here. The only chance they stood at winning a fight against me had been five against one when I’d least expected it. Lucky they didn’t get their wish of turning me
