I rushed around the screen and grabbed for the gun holstered beneath her attacker’s arm. If it’d been loose in the holster I would’ve had it, but it was fastened down.
In an instant his hand was locked around my wrist, his eyes inches from mine, filled with outrage and surprise. I tightened my hand around the gun and with a tremendous heave used the shoulder holster to lift him and shove him backward over the rim of the hot tub. He held on to me as he fell, sending us both over into the water. I had to keep my hand around the gun—and the gun in its holster—or I was a dead man.
The water was cold. He was beneath me, but the tub was deep and for a moment my hand slipped and I thought I was going to lose him. Then I lunged and closed my hand over the gun again, finding my feet.
He came up and tried to roll me over but suddenly Lydia was behind him.
Deftly, she’d flipped her legs through the loop of arms and handcuffs, wrapped the chain around his neck, and pulled it taut under his chin, simultaneously strangling him and forcing his head underwater. He kicked and flailed, his neck muscles straining as he tried to free himself, raise his head, and breathe. He had a choice. Either he could let go of my wrists and grab her arms, or he could win the struggle for the gun.