by MJ Fredrick
With one hand over the pony tank, lest he forget it, he started swimming.
“Where’s Adrian?” Mallory demanded, pushing her wind-whipped hair out of her face when the big blond diver, the one she’d nicknamed Brutus, surfaced and stripped off his mask. The water was growing choppy as clouds rolled overhead and she had to brace her feet to stay upright as the boat lurched.
The big man shook his head. “It’s cloudy as hell down there. I lost track of him.”
A frisson of alarm ran through her, but she battled it with reason. Adrian was the best diver she knew. A little silt wouldn’t throw him. But if he couldn’t see the guideline, or his dive watch wasn’t working… She couldn’t lose him, not like this.
She made her way to the pilothouse of Valentine’s yacht, encountering one of the other men who folded his arms to block her path. She pushed past him, and he grabbed her arm, fingers digging in. Looking up, she saw he enjoyed her pain, her panic.
“Where do you think you’re going?”
She wrenched her arm, but couldn’t dislodge him. “To get him.”
“I don’t think so.”
“What’s going on?” Valentine asked, coming out of the pilothouse behind her.
“Adrian hasn’t surfaced and a storm is coming up.”
“Maybe he found something good,” Valentine countered. “He has time.” He leaned against the doorway. “He’s a big boy. He doesn’t need you jumping in after him every time he’s late. He lived for how many years without you?”
Mallory turned away, fear still churning in her gut, and saw the dark-haired diver’s smirk. Her blood iced as his expression told her everything she needed to know. She lunged for him, her fingers digging into his shoulders as his had into her arm.
“What did you do?” she demanded.
Strong hands closed over Mallory’s shoulders and dragged her away from the diver and the glint in his eye. She tried to shake off the men holding her but they released her suddenly and stepped in front of her. Toney and Jacob.
“You sabotaged his equipment,” Toney accused Valentine. “What was it? His dive computer? His hoses?”
Dread dragged at Mallory, and it was all she could do to stay upright. The wind that kicked up with the approaching storm didn’t help, buffeting the water, sending waves crashing into the hull, splashing over the deck.
She almost wished Jacob and Toney were still holding onto her. This man hadn’t killed Adrian outright. He had let the sea take him. She knew it had to be something tricky—Adrian was fanatic about triple checking his equipment before he dove.
“Where is he?” Her voice sounded like it came from far away.
“There!” One of the men below pointed, and Mallory shoved her way around Jacob and Toney to look out across the sea, where a diver bobbed in the churning waves, partially floating on his back, his face turned toward the sky.
She gripped the rail. Adrian. At least two hundred yards away in rough water. He couldn’t make it to the boat. Knowing Valentine, he would start the boats and head for shore without him.
“Adrian!”
He couldn’t hear her, not over the water, but she shouted again.
Slowly, he turned toward her, his movements sluggish. He was exhausted. No way could he swim to the boat. Her heart thudded with fear and the need to go to him. But even as the muscles in her body screamed for her to do something, she knew she couldn’t reach him before he drowned.
Beside them, the pilot of Adrian’s boat started its engine and headed out to Adrian. She looked at Valentine to see if he’d shout for them to stop, but he didn’t. Instead, he set his jaw and watched the rescue.
Adrian flopped onto his back on the deck of the boat, feeling boneless after what had to have been nearly two hours in the water. He stared up at the sky he thought he’d never see again and wondered why it was so watery.
His goggles. Right. Lifting his arm to strip them off took more effort than he would have expected. He squinted up at the muscle that Smoller surrounded himself with. They’d fished him out of the water, so where was Smoller? Where were Mallory and Jacob and Toney?
“Mal?” he croaked.
“Other boat,” said the muscle who’d pulled him up, the one he’d heard Mallory call Brutus.
Safe. He nodded and let sleep take him.
Mallory was exiting the head when she heard the shouting. She’d never heard Valentine shout, but he was tearing into someone now, on deck. She hurried toward the stairs because surely the only person who made him that angry was Adrian.
“What the hell were you thinking, Karl? I don’t want the man dead!”
Not Adrian, then, but the dark-haired diver. Mallory crept forward to see his shoulders tighten defensively. “He could have killed Jeremy.”
“Jeremy acted on his own and probably deserved what he got. I need Reeves alive. I want him to bring up that chest and hand it over. I want him to go home empty-handed and live a long life full of regret for what he can never have. I want to take everything from him the way he’s taken everything from me, and I want to do it so he doesn’t forget it.”
Mallory shrank back when footsteps sounded on the stairs, and she slipped into the head, rubbing at the goose bumps that covered her body. He didn’t plan to kill Adrian. That was good news, right? But taking everything away from Adrian… What did he mean? The site, certainly. Her, too, perhaps, though Valentine had to know he couldn’t play her the same way twice. Her eyes would be wide open. Valentine had to be aware.
Which meant what? Taking her away from Adrian… Did he mean to kill her?
They had to escape, and it had to be now.
Chapter Eighteen
Adrian couldn’t take another chance. He knew what had caused his narcosis; he’d figured it out floating in the ocean, watching the boat approaching.
Someone had switched the gases in his tank. The team had been using Heliox so they could stay underwater longer. Someone had switched his tanks to Nitrox, and he’d had higher levels of nitrogen in his blood, leading to his narcosis.
If he’d gone deeper, he could have died.
Ingenious, really. Anyone who paid attention to him knew he checked his equipment to the nth degree. Gas mixture was not something he’d thought to check.
But the experience had given him an idea.
Last night he’d slipped out the window of his cabin and smuggled three full-sized tanks from the boat, strapping them to the underside of the barge. He might manage a couple more pony tanks, and hope that would be enough. He and Toney could use the pony tanks—they were the most experienced divers. They wouldn’t have to go as deep as usual, so they wouldn’t use as much air. He just hoped they’d have enough to get to land without having to surface and risk being seen.
He’d gone back after securing the tanks and dumped the extra hoses and regulators overboard, then released most of the air in the remaining tanks. He’d cracked open the gauges and manipulated the needles until they stayed pointing to “full” before he added weights to the straps so they’d feel full. They’d run out of air before the divers descended too far, giving Adrian and the others a chance to escape. They ran the risk of the men surfacing to alert Smoller, and Adrian hadn’t decided if that was a risk he was willing to take. If Smoller brought them back, he would not go easy on them.
He’d tried to work out how to get control of his boat, but three unarmed men against six armed—he didn’t like the odds, the chance that Mallory could be hurt. If he only had to worry about himself and his brother, that was one thing, but he wouldn’t chance Mallory and Jacob. They had a better chance of swimming to safety under the radar, so to speak. So while it nearly killed him to do it, he poured water in the gas tanks of each boat so Smoller couldn’t follow them to shore.
He hoped Mallory understood his signal. He’d feel better if they could talk through the plan first, but there was no time. They had to act.
Mallory didn’t wait for Valentine to tell her to suit up after Adrian, Jaco
b and Toney went in. He cast a flat gaze in her direction as she tugged the suit over her clothes, zipped it up. She checked the hell out of her equipment while he watched. They would all know she was aware of their tricks now, and they’d think twice about trying them again.
Her nerves had been jumping since she’d overheard the conversation, and if she stayed around him too long, he would suspect and then act.
Or prevent her from acting.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as she moved to the edge of the boat. “You need to wait for Karl.”
“You want your casket. I want to go home.” Before he could say anything, she dove.
Adrian knew if he hung back to wait for Mallory, the two men swimming with him would suspect something. They couldn’t turn back too soon, or they risked discovery. He’d have to trust she could catch up, that Toney and Jacob could retrieve the tanks from the barge. They weren’t being watched as closely as he and Mallory, a point in their favor. Adrian would keep an eye on the guards, alert for the moment they realized they were out of air. If anyone had to take drastic measures for their safe escape, he would. He was responsible for them all being here.
He saw the diver called Danny check his gauges and slow, straighten as he tapped the plastic casing. Oh hell. Too soon. Adrian looked around for Mallory, for Jacob and Toney, didn’t see them. Danny signaled to Brutus, then to Adrian, urging them to surface. Brutus pointed to himself and down, then to Danny and pointed up. Danny shook his head and stubbornly signaled with a sweeping motion for the three of them to ascend. Brutus repeated his message with frustrated movements, before he turned to descend. Adrian followed.
Danny grasped Adrian’s calf, pulling him toward the surface. Ahead of him Brutus swam forward, oblivious. How long would he stay that way? Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian saw Mallory swimming forward to help him. Damn it, he had to move now. He twisted, driving his elbow back as hard as he could into his captor’s stomach. The blow loosened his grip enough that Adrian could turn and rip off Danny’s mask, blinding him as salt water stung his eyes. Danny released him. Adrian drove his fist as hard as he could into the enemy’s face.
Crap. Blood spurted out of Danny’s nose. Bad news. Danny reached for his dive knife. Adrian slammed a hand into the man’s throat, but the water resistance prevented too much force.
The man slid his knife free and slashed it toward Adrian, who swam out of reach. But he wasn’t prepared for the backstroke. The tip of the blade sliced the palm of his hand. Damn. More blood in the water. He closed his hand around the stinging wound just as Danny jabbed his knife toward Adrian’s chest, falling short, a surprised look in his eyes as he sucked on his regulator, out of air.
Adrian looked over Danny’s shoulder into Toney’s facemask, to the glint of a diving knife and dangling air hoses. Where the hell had Toney gotten a knife? That was the one thing Adrian had failed to accomplish as he’d crept around the boat last night. He pointed to the knife and lifted his eyebrows behind his mask. His brother shrugged as Danny swam toward the surface.
Mallory approached, fins flipping behind her a bit frantically, and hooked her thumb over her shoulder. He looked past her to the two men swimming after her, drawing Brutus’s attention to his comrades.
Shit.
Adrian motioned for Toney to give Mallory one of the extra tanks and go, get away. They needed to take off now or risk being dragged back. If they failed, they wouldn’t get another chance. Hesitation flashed in Mal’s eyes as she strapped the tank to her chest. He glared in response and gestured toward the shore. When she still refused to leave, he pointed to his brother and then to her.
Now her eyes were mutinous. Oh, for fuck’s sake…she wouldn’t go. And he didn’t have time to force her as the three swimmers approached. Through the water, Adrian saw the glint of metal in the first man’s hand. Goddammit. A knife. Toney and Jacob swam up behind the others, quickly disabling them. Toney met Adrian’s eyes over the third diver’s shoulder. Adrian jerked his head toward shore, assuring his brother he could handle this one. He would see Mallory to shore if Toney could get Jacob there. Toney nodded, motioned to the younger man and started swimming.
Adrian glanced at Mallory, then looped a finger through his own air hose and made a slicing motion. She frowned and gestured to her hip. No knife.
He’d just have to get Brutus’s. He turned and swam to confront him.
The cold look in the big man’s eyes penetrated his mask as he lunged at Adrian with the knife. Adrian shot an arm out to block Brutus’s aim at his chest and felt a burning across his forearm as the blade sliced through his wetsuit.
Brutus surged forward to grab Adrian’s regulator. Adrian clamped his teeth over it and felt the pressure in his gums as Brutus tried to deprive him of his air supply. He gripped the wrist that tugged at his mouthpiece as he tried to block the arm slashing downward. He didn’t catch it before the blade drove into his biceps. Pain flashed brightly through him as metal scraped bone, but even as he reached for the hilt, Brutus withdrew it, finning backwards.
Adrian had to get some distance between them. With the water resistance, he wasn’t strong enough to punch the guy and do much damage, but his legs were accustomed to moving with force through the water. He pulled away and struck Brutus in the facemask with his foot. The man’s head snapped backwards, his mask cracked. Then Mallory was there, slicing his hoses.
He didn’t have time to question where she’d gotten it. Smoller’s crew wouldn’t have equipment to replace the damaged hoses, not unless they had some tucked away somewhere. They couldn’t follow Adrian’s crew into the water. Adrian and his people were free.
Now they needed to head for shore—they didn’t have enough air to wait around. Mallory had strapped two pony tanks Jacob had given her to her hips and a full-sized tank to her chest, which made her movements awkward as she swam toward him, motioning to his arm. He lifted it for a better look. The movement caused stars to shoot before his eyes. He lowered it again. Swimming the distance to the shore was going to be a bitch.
First, he had to stop the blood.
With his good arm, he pointed in the direction Toney and Jacob had already headed. She had to start swimming. Hanging around was too dangerous. Blood clouded the water. They were bound to get company soon, either human or finned.
Of course, being Mallory, she shook her head and motioned to his arm again. Her movements clumsy around the tank on her chest, she pulled off the pony tanks. She strapped them to his hips before she pulled free a roll of tape from the first aid kit strapped to her belt. Good girl. He hadn’t thought of liberating a first aid kit. She pulled off a strip of waterproof adhesive tape and wrapped it tightly around his arm, first his biceps, then his forearm. The tape closed the wetsuit up temporarily, sealing the blood inside and putting pressure on the wound. Adrian still wasn’t sure how far he’d be able to swim; the pain blinded him with each movement of his arm. Even though the knife was gone, he could still feel it rubbing against the bone.
But he’d be damned if he’d be anywhere in the vicinity when Smoller figured out they weren’t coming up.
Blocking out the pain and the limited mobility in his arm, he started swimming.
Mallory saw the first shadow about five minutes later. Years of diving experience told her exactly what it was, the flip of the tail, the twist of the body.
A shark, sensing blood.
They were about twenty feet down. The shark maneuvered between them and the surface, sunlight shining around him. The tension in Adrian’s body meant he saw it too. He didn’t have the strength to fight, though, if it came close. He didn’t have the strength to outswim it. She would be the first line of defense if it decided to investigate if they were injured.
She tried to recall what she was supposed to do if the shark came too close. Blow bubbles, though she didn’t remember why. Or punch the shark in the nose. She definitely didn’t want to try that.
She glanced at her husband, his usually
strong movements limited by his injury. But if she had to…
He tried to maneuver between her and the shark. Damn him and his heroic behavior. When she swam above him, making herself the barrier, he tugged at her fin. She turned to see him scowling—a neat trick with a regulator in his mouth—and gesturing at the shark like she didn’t see it. She jerked her hand to him to stay below her. He didn’t have the strength but his damn stubborn gallantry kept him from listening.
While they were jostling for position, the shark spotted them.
Mallory swam to intercept it, took out her regulator and pointed it in the direction of the fish, a five footer, easily. The bubbles annoyed the fish and it twisted back the way it had come, clearly not interested.
She turned back with a triumphant grin but went on alert when Adrian pointed behind her, his movement frantic.
Her air tanks absorbed the blow, but she hadn’t gotten her regulator back in her mouth. The force of the hit knocked the breath from her. She twisted to see a different shark charging her. She fumbled with her regulator to bring it up to bubble in this shark’s face.
The method didn’t deter this one, a bigger one, a hungrier one. She shoved the regulator in her own mouth, took a fortifying breath before she popped the fish in the nose, its rough skin catching her glove. White teeth flashed as it whipped its head to circle about, not deterred. Damn. Adrenaline sped through her now, telling her muscles to flee, but Adrian couldn’t get away fast enough, and she wouldn’t leave him. The adrenaline made her shaky, made her fingers reaching for the stolen dive knife clumsy. But she was able to draw it out, thrust it under the shark’s jaw, terror giving her the strength to pull the knife free and plunging it in, again and again, finally killing the animal, watching it sink as she processed what she’d done.
