He pivoted, nearly losing his balance and bracing himself with the damned cane. Had she run off to meet her fence? He’d actually started to wonder if she was telling the truth. She’d almost had him convinced a time or two. Was it all just an attempt to sucker him in so she could sneak off? At first he didn’t see her. Then everyone saw her. Nate’s mouth went dry. She perched on the platform above the murky dunk tank, bare-ass naked. The smooth black length of her hair slid over her shoulders, but instead of concealing her nakedness, it just seemed to accent it. Her arms crossed over her breasts, and the way she drew up one knee and bent at the waist maintained the impression of decency. Nate began shouldering his way toward her. A crowd gathered around the foot of the tank—the spectators evenly divided between the amused and the enraged. “Ciara,” he shouted, hoping she could hear him over the rising chatter of the crowd. “Don’t you dare.” Before he finished speaking, she plunged into the tank.
