by Lucy Ryder
And not with just anyone, he finally admitted to himself. He wanted it with Frankie.
She might be wild and unpredictable but she’d always have his back, even—his mouth curled—when she wanted to kill him. She might have saved him from falling off the ledge that night, but he’d gone and fallen anyway.
Hard and completely.
Wham!
He’d been half in love with her for years, but that night…the feel of her against him after so many years, the light of combat in her eyes, the damn-your-hide attitude…had been like coming home.
Ty was right. Frankie was his heart. She was the reason he didn’t want to spend time with other women. She was the missing piece of his soul but he’d been too blinded by his need to prove that he wasn’t like his father—that he could and would take care of those he loved.
“Babe,” Ty’s calm voice cut through Nate’s revelation. “Calm down, okay?” His gaze, suddenly unreadable, locked with Nate’s but it was Ty’s next words—“Now, what was that about Frankie?”—that had his blood freezing in his veins.
He was already reaching for his truck keys and heading for the front door when Ty ended the call.
“Before you go off half-cocked, Frankie’s fine,” he said, grabbing his jacket as he followed Nate out. “She called Paige an hour ago from the ferry to say a woman was in labor. But Paige said they just got word that there’s been some kind of accident on board and they need all available medics. I’m heading over there to help.”
Nate paused. “And Frankie?”
Ty shook his head, his voice steady. “No one’s heard from her. But that doesn’t mean she’s hurt,” he added when Nate cursed. “It just means she’s probably busy. You know Frankie. She’s probably hip-deep in all the action.”
But Nate wasn’t listening. All he could think about as he dashed through the gusting rain toward his truck was that Frankie was in the hot zone—with no one covering her six. He’d made her believe she was nothing more than a promise to be kept. That he cared more about a memory than a fiery, vibrant woman who owned his heart—and very possibly his soul.
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
ON THE LAST leg of the two-day trip to the local islands, Frankie braced her feet against the pitching deck and tried not to think about the huge waves crashing over the lower decks of the ferry. A huge storm system had hit two days earlier than expected, with gale-force winds whipping the seas into a frenzy. It might not have been so bad if the ferry’s stabilizers hadn’t been damaged by submerged debris a few hours earlier, rendering the vessel all but unsteerable in the heavy seas.
But right now she had bigger problems than heavy weather and rolling decks. A ferry officer she’d gone to school with had asked her to help out when a man had collapsed, complaining of chest pains and muscle weakness. Then a pregnant woman had gone into early labor and she was soon treating the small band of people injured by the rolling of the ship.
She’d called the hospital to alert them of the emergency—but that had been before lightning had struck, frying all the equipment and starting a fire somewhere in the engine room. Before she’d lost her cellphone when panicked crowds had begun streaming onto the decks, letting rain and sea water pour in through the open doors.
Help was on its way but Frankie had a feeling that time was running out for Serena Porter, who had all the signs of preeclampsia, a dangerous condition for both mother and child.
Then she’d overheard the crew talking about a fire in the cargo bay and had to wonder if they were going down. Smoke had already begun making its way to the upper decks and Frankie prayed help arrived before cars and trucks started exploding.
She also couldn’t help hoping that Nate was working on his house and not getting ready to join the rescue. Maybe she was still mad at him for treating her like a one-night stand, but she didn’t want him opening up his healing wound.
The knowledge that she was nothing more to him than a responsibility had been a blow to her ego as well as her heart. Discovering that she was in love—a soul-deep connection that throbbed like an open wound—with a man who saw her as just a promise he was honor-bound to keep had devastated her and she’d needed to escape for a while. But running away never solved anything and she couldn’t avoid going home forever. Port St. John’s wasn’t that big and she was bound to run into him sooner rather than later.
Unless she moved to Australia.
Australia had the Great Barrier Reef and she’d always wanted to scuba dive and learn to surf.
“Evac ten minutes out, Miss Bryce,” an officer said, popping his head around the door. “Let’s get your patients upstairs.”
“Upstairs?” Frankie demanded, grateful for the interruption. “I thought they were being airlifted from the port-side deck.”
Officer Paul Murray shook his head. “Too many people. The captain is worried they might panic and try to get on the first chopper. We’ve gotta move your patients to the top observation deck ASAP before we let the rest up there.”
Conditions on the upper deck were worse than Frankie had feared. Lightning slashed at the sky, briefly illuminating the wind-driven rain that soaked them instantly. With limited visibility, it took a couple of moments for her to get her bearings and make out the direction of the approaching choppers. Relief had her exhaling in a quiet whoosh when she saw lights appear out of the darkness.
As the nearest chopper lost altitude, figures in protective gear dropped onto the deck and ran toward them, even before the skids made contact. “Medic’s waiting in the chopper, Ms. Bryce,” someone yelled as they passed. “It’s like hell out there, so let’s roll.”
Paul caught Frankie’s shoulder and leaned close to her ear. “I’m going to start directing people up here to the choppers,” he said. “Get moving and good luck.” Then he was gone.
Frankie quickly ushered the group to the waiting chopper, bending low as rotor wash and lashing rain made it almost impossible to see the hands reaching to pull them to safety. Once the last of her charges was on board, she stepped away and motioned for them to take off.
“You’re not coming?” the copilot yelled through the open door. When she shook her head and took a couple more steps back, he lifted his visor. “Nate said to make sure you got on this chopper,” he yelled. “Don’t make me go back without you. He knows a hundred ways to kill a man and make it look like an accident.”
She rolled her eyes at him but the words stung more than the pelting rain. Even after everything, he was still insisting on being her big brother, her big bad protector?
“Tell the SEAL he’s not the boss of me,” she yelled back, but as she splashed her way through the torrential rain toward the stairs, she wondered if she would ever get the chance to prove to him that she was worth loving.
*
“There’s been an explosion,” the pilot reported abruptly into his comms as they headed back out to the stricken ship, causing Nate’s gut to tighten into a fist of dread. “The fuel tanks are starting to explode, so look sharp, men. Those left on board don’t have a lot of time.”
It was just after eleven and most of the passengers had been airlifted onto waiting coastguard cutters or taken to the medical center, but of Frankie…there was still no word.
Several people had reported seeing her and Nate had begun to worry that she’d insist on going down with the stricken ship. She’d refused all opportunities to leave with the choppers and wasn’t on any of the cutters. He’d checked—countless times—until the shift commander had ordered him to “Get out there and find her, Oliver.”
Grateful for the man’s understanding, Nate had hopped on the next flight out, hoping Frankie was smart enough to stay out of danger and praying he got the opportunity to tell her how he felt.
They were a few minutes out when another huge fireball ripped through the night sky, briefly illuminating the dangerously listing ship.
“Move in. Move in,” he barked into his headset. “Tell them to get the last few people aboard ont
o the decks so we can evac them now.”
He could hear yelling through the comms and saw people spill onto the upper deck. He had time for one horrified thought—Where the hell is Frankie?—before finally catching sight of her tearing across the upper deck with several others in pursuit, just as another explosion ripped open the port bulkhead.
They felt the force of it as the chopper slewed sideways and Nate felt terror grip his throat. “Get them off. Now!” he yelled, watching in horror as the ferry lurched sideways, water rushing across the upper deck on which Frankie was scrambling to regain her footing.
He saw dinghies streaking across the water toward the stricken vessel even as people began falling or jumping into the water from the stern.
Frankie and the others were still scrambling up the listing ship, grabbing onto the railings to keep from sliding into the water.
“I’m going in,” the pilot yelled, banking sharply to the left. “I’ll try to get abreast of their position and hope the rotor wash doesn’t sweep them overboard.”
“Make sure your lines are secured,” Nate ordered as his men scrambled into position. “And get the safety sling ready in case someone doesn’t make it.”
Ruthlessly squashing the fear that tried to rise up like the angry sea, Nate deliberately slowed his heartbeat and tried to pretend this was just another mission, just another rescue. But as his eyes locked on Frankie with grim determination, he knew he was lying to himself. This wasn’t just any rescue. This was about rescuing himself as well.
He caught her expression and knew she understood what they were about to attempt. He saw rather than heard her shouting as the chopper moved in. This close he could see how young they were—probably all ferry staff—and terrified. She shouted, “Jump, they’ll catch you,” just as another wave broke over them.
The chopper edged closer and one by one the frightened staff were hauled to safety until there was only Frankie and a young uniformed kid left on the deck.
Above the rotor noise, Nate heard another muffled explosion and the next instant the deck pitched dangerously. The pilot jerked the chopper sideways in an attempt to maintain enough rotor distance and Nate saw the kid start to slide. Frankie shouted a warning and shot out her arm to snag the back of his uniform and haul him up.
Eyes white with terror, the kid flailed as he tried to regain his footing as the ferry slid down another few feet.
“She can’t hold on forever, LC,” the winch operator yelled, tossing a sling at them. It fell short of its mark but Frankie couldn’t have grabbed for it anyway. Terrified that they were both going to slide into the churning water, Nate quickly hooked himself to the safety line and scrambled onto the skid. “Give me a little slack,” he barked into the comms. “And get as close as you can.”
Once the line played out, Nate leaned forward, his arms spread out as though he was flying. Spray from the surging sea instantly covered his visor, making it impossible to see.
Although they were designed to repel water, Nate shoved it up because he couldn’t afford to screw up. Not with two lives relying on his experience and training.
Not with Frankie hanging on by one arm while holding onto someone else with the other.
He could literally feel the collective breaths being sucked in behind him as he leaned out over the turbulent water. His gaze locked with Frankie’s and all the fear, exhaustion and grim determination in them hit him with a one-two punch.
“Hang on,” he yelled, snatching at the swaying rescue sling. “Grab it and if you can, slip it over your head and under your arms. We’ll do the rest.”
Out the corner of his eye he saw Frankie’s face go white with pain and desperately wanted to yell at the kid to hurry up. At the third attempt he managed to snag it and slip it clumsily over his head and under his arms, and Nate finally took his eyes off the kid to shout, “Frankie, let go now and grab my hand.”
Eyes on his, her mouth moved and he thought she said I love you just as a huge wave broke over her. The sling line abruptly tautened and the boy swung free, jerking at Frankie’s body. She wasn’t going to be able to hang on against the drag.
“Pull him up and give me four feet,” Nate yelled frantically as he watched her struggling against the pull of the water. He instantly felt his line play out and hooked his feet over the chopper floor as he fell forward, catching her just as she lost the battle against the sea.
“I’ve got you,” he said, although he knew she couldn’t hear him. Through his comms he heard cheers and, “Oh, my God, he actually did it. Nate’s a freaking super bat.”
“He’s got her, Lieutenant,” another voice yelled. “Let’s get out of here.”
Nate immediately felt the chopper gain altitude before banking sharply away from the sinking ferry.
Using his upper-body strength, he tightened his grip on her arm and pulled her up until she could grab onto his harness.
“You came,” she said simply.
And just as simply Nate replied, “Always.”
The instant they were hauled aboard, Nate pulled a wet and shivering woman into his arms, only vaguely aware of the excited commotion around them.
He needed a moment. Hell, he needed a whole bunch of moments to get his heart rate down from stroke level and take in the reality of the woman pressed against him. To enjoy the feel of her warm breath on his throat and let the fact that she was alive and safe register. Someone dropped a blanket around her shoulders and after a couple of beats he loosened his grip to wrap it around her icy body.
“I’ve got you, babe,” he murmured, his throat tight and the band of fear around his heart finally loosening. Now that he had her safe he could admit to himself that he’d been scared. Terrified that he would lose the best thing that had ever happened to him.
And looking into her beautiful face he pulled her into his warm body and swore And this time I’m not letting go.
After a couple of beats he realized that she was trembling and lifted his head to press his lips against her temple, giving thanks that beneath the delicate skin her pulse beat strong and sure. “You’re shaking.”
Frankie made a sound between a laugh and a strangled sob. “No,” she whispered. “That’s you.”
It took him a few moments to realize that she was right. He was shaking but then again it had been close…too close for comfort.
“I thought I’d lost you,” he rasped, pressing his cheek against hers. “I thought…” He sucked in a steadying breath and admitted, “I don’t think I’d survive losing you too. Not you, Frankie.”
“Hey,” she said, pushing back a couple of inches to take his face between her icy palms. “I’m here. I’m not going anywhere.”
“You’re right,” he said firmly. “You’re not, but—”
“You saved me,” she insisted gently. “Just like you promised Jack. But it’s over now, Nate. I’m safe and your debt is paid. Let it go. Let him go… It’s time.”
Hell if she wasn’t right. Jack would never be forgotten but maybe it was time to let go of the past, let go of the grief and the guilt of being the one to survive when Jack, the best of them, had died.
“Yes,” he admitted, taking her icy hands in his and pressing them against his heart. “And it’s also time for you to stop giving me heart failure.” He gave a rough laugh. “I can’t take much more.”
“Me?” she croaked, as though her vocal cords had seized. “What about you?” Huge green eyes glowed eerily in her white face. “What was that? What the heck was that move?”
Now that she was safe and they’d come to terms with Jack’s death, he could smile. “Admit it, that move was awesome.”
“No,” she practically snarled. “It wasn’t. It was reckless and stupid and—”
No longer able to keep his relief and joy under wraps, Nate started laughing and quickly dropped a kiss on her surprised mouth, effectively silencing her. “Exactly what you would have done. It’s what SEALs call thinking on your feet,” he drawled, lowering his vo
ice. “It’s what’s called being creative and doing whatever you need to do to save the woman you love.”
“Well, I call it male stupidity,” Frankie said, with a lot less heat. “What were you thinking? What if your line had snapped? What if…?” Her eyes grew huge and she sucked in a shocked breath. “Wha—What did you say?” she whispered hoarsely.
“You heard me. I love you, so damn much. And as to what I was thinking?” he murmured, abruptly serious. “I was thinking that I can’t seem to live without you. I was thinking that maybe you were right and I was using my promise to Jack as an excuse to keep you from getting too close.” He sucked in a deep breath. “But it’s too late. You’re already so deep nothing short of a soul transplant will get rid of you.”
Frankie looked as though someone had punched her in the head. “You…you l-love me?” she whispered, looking more stunned and vulnerable than he’d ever seen her.
“Hell, yes,” Nate declared emphatically, pulling her against him and tucking her face against his neck. He waited until she lifted her head to say, “I love you, Frankie. With everything that’s in me. Seems like I’ve always loved you, even when you’re mean and bossy and drive me completely insane. Besides…” he chuckled when she pushed him lightly “…who else will put up with you?”
A snort of laughter filled the silence. “You might be a superhero, Nate,” someone said. “But you sure need lessons in romance.”
He caught her hands and lifted them to his mouth. “I’m not the most romantic guy, Frankie, but you’re my happy. Without you I’m only just going through the motions.”
“Oh, wow,” one of the woman survivors sniffed. “If that’s not romantic, I don’t know what is.”
Frankie’s hands rose to cup his face. “I don’t need romance, Nate,” she said, eyes shining with tears and laughter. “I just… I just need you.”
“And you’ll do as I say?”
Frankie snorted rudely and to Nate it was the most beautiful sound he’d ever heard. Frankie was everything he needed; everything he’d ever wanted, wrapped up in silky-soft skin and prickly attitude. His heart.
