by Sharon Sala
Her eyes flew open. Was that a gull? It came from the back of the hotel, and there was nothing there but the steep, winding steps that led down to the beach. If the child was very small, surely he would not have been able to negotiate such an obstacle alone. Again, she heard a sound, only this time it didn’t sound like a bird. It was the laughter of a child. She bolted toward the back of the hotel, hoping that she was wrong. And then she saw him and her heart stopped. She paused, then turned, shouting East’s name.
Immediately, she saw East freeze and then turn. She shouted again, pointing toward the beach below, and then started to run. There was no time to waste on waiting for them to catch up, because the little boy was moving toward the water without realizing the terrible danger he was in. The first wave would knock him off his feet. The second one would pull him under. After that, it would be too late.
Chapter 6
Ally started down the steps, taking them two at a time and shouting as she ran, hoping to distract the little boy, but it did no good. He kept toddling toward the lip of the ocean, unaware of the danger, and she couldn’t run fast enough to catch him. She was more than halfway down when East reached the top of the steps and started after her, but she didn’t know it, and it would have made no difference if she had. She didn’t even hear the child’s mother suddenly scream out in horror, because the thunder of her own heartbeat was pounding in her ears. Her feet made hard, slapping sounds as she ran down the steps in a jarring rhythm, taking them two and three at a time. Once she slipped and, had it not been for the fierce hold she had on the handrail, would have gone head over heels down the rest. When she reached the last step, she came off of it in a leap, shedding her shoes and her shirt as she ran and leaving her in nothing but a bra and a pair of white cotton slacks.
“Noooo!” she screamed, praying that the sound of her voice would stop the child in his tracks, but the word was lost in the shrieks of feeding gulls.
No more than fifty feet separated them when the first wave knocked the baby off his feet. He went down on his face, then came up crying. Ally saw the next wave coming and knew she was going to be too late. It rolled over him like a mother pulling a blanket over a sleeping child. There was a brief flash of red just below the surface of the water and then he was gone.
Precious seconds were wasted before Ally was in the water and running into the surf. Still focused on the last place she’d seen him, she took a deep breath and went headfirst into an oncoming wave, and then she, too, was gone.
A dozen frantic thoughts went through East’s mind as he watched the water pull the baby under. But when Ally followed, too, then didn’t come up, his heart nearly stopped. He was a good fifty yards behind her and time was not on their side. He knew within reason that she had to be an expert swimmer. All the SPEAR operatives were highly trained in all means of survival. But she didn’t know this coast or its currents. There was a riptide about a hundred yards offshore and if she got caught in that, it would take a miracle to save her. By the time he reached the water, he had kicked off his shoes and dropped his shirt in the sand. Unsure of his direction, he started wading into the ocean when a distance away, Ally’s head suddenly broke the surface of the water. Relief made him weak.
There was a collective gasp from the gathering crowd behind him and then someone shouted, “She’s got him!”
But East was already up to his waist and moving fast. He dove headfirst into an oncoming wave and started swimming.
Sunlight pierced the fluid world in which Ally was swimming, and yet she could not see clearly enough to give her a direction in which to search. Treading water beneath the surface, she turned in a complete circle, searching for a flash of red or a shadow that might be the child, himself. Her lungs were burning and the salt water had all but blinded her, yet she couldn’t bring herself to give up.
Then she saw something drifting down to her right and moved swiftly toward it. Suddenly, her hand brushed against flesh, then fabric. It was the little boy’s shorts. With one desperate grab, she pulled, and moments later, felt the cold, lifeless impact of a tiny body against her chest. The need to inhale was overwhelming as she began to move toward the surface, ever closer toward the light and the life-giving air she knew was there. But the harder she kicked, the farther away it seemed to be. Just when she thought it was over, she broke the surface of the water, gasping for air with the child held fast against her.
Everything was a blur, but she could hear people shouting. She turned toward the sound and saw the dark, imposing shape of the coastline, took another deep breath and began to swim, pulling the little boy as she went. Suddenly, East was right before her, touching her, taking the burden of the child’s lifeless body from her weary arms. She wanted to cry with relief.
“Are you all right? Can you make it back to shore?” East shouted.
She nodded.
“Are you sure?”
“Go, just go,” she yelled.
East began to swim, pulling the child along like a small, deflating raft. When his feet finally touched bottom, he lifted the child into his arms and started running toward the beach. Hotel staff waded out to meet him and together, they soon had the child on the sand. He looked up at the crowd, then waved frantically toward the water at Ally.
“Help her.”
A couple of men separated themselves from the crowd as East bent over the child. As he began CPR, the loud, insistent sound of an approaching siren could be heard coming up the mountain. And then his entire focus became that cold little body on the sand, and the feel of a tiny blue mouth beneath his lips.
Ally was all but dragged from the water. She managed to walk about a half-dozen steps when her legs gave way. With a low, weary groan, she waved away the men who’d helped her and dropped to her hands and knees with her head down, trying to catch her breath. Someone draped a blanket around her shoulders and murmured something in her ear, but it didn’t register. She couldn’t think past the sight of East bending over the baby.
“Please, God,” she whispered. “Please. Don’t let him die.”
In the background, Ally was vaguely aware of an ambulance pulling to a stop at the top of the bluff, and then people in uniforms scrambling down the steps to get to the beach. But the silence that engulfed them was telling. There was nothing but the throb of the ocean behind them and the sun overhead. Even the seagulls seemed to sense the unfolding drama and had absented themselves from the sky in deference to the man and the child.
And then everything seemed to happen in slow motion.
There was a cough, then a gurgle, and East was turning the boy on his side as water came spilling out of his mouth. A mother’s sob was undermined by a collective sigh of relief from the crowd as the child started to cry.
As the first paramedic came on the scene, East gladly relinquished the child to the expert and rocked back on his heels in exhaustion.
When the child started to cry, Ally started to shake—first from the chill, then from relief. He was alive. Thank God, he was alive. Unashamed of the tears on her cheeks, she lifted her face to the sun and began struggling to her feet. Suddenly, East was in front of her. Before she could speak, he pulled her into his arms and held her close against his chest, his voice rumbling low against her ear.
“You did it, Ally. You did it! You saved his life.”
She grabbed his arms and pushed herself back. “No,” she said fiercely. “We did it.”
At that moment, East couldn’t bring himself to speak.
Behind them, the paramedics were strapping the little boy into a basket-like stretcher and starting toward the stairs at the base of the cliff. The crowd moved with them, leaving East and Ally alone on the beach.
She shuddered and pulled the blanket a little closer around her, but it wasn’t enough. The chill was all the way to her bones.
East saw her muscles beginning to spasm, and concern for her health shifted his focus.
“You need to get out of those wet clothes and into something
warm and dry.”
He took her by the hand as they started toward the steps and she let him lead her as if she were a child. Halfway there, East stopped and picked up their shoes and shirts then glanced at her, as if assuring himself she was still upright.
As they started up the steps, East took her by the elbow, bracing her weight against his body. About halfway up, Ally’s legs began to shake, but she kept on climbing, afraid if she stopped, she wouldn’t be able to move. Twice East felt her falter, and each time, although he remained silent, the look he gave her was filled with concern. When they reached the top, Ally breathed a shaky sigh of relief. The worst was surely over.
“Ally?”
She managed a smile. “I’m fine,” she said, and made it all the way through the lobby before she suddenly stopped and clutched at her pockets. “My room key. It was in my pocket!”
“Wait here,” East said, and headed for the desk, returning moments later with a duplicate.
They made it all the way to the bank of elevators before she stumbled. East cursed beneath his breath, punched the button, dumped their shoes and shirts into her hands, and then scooped her into his arms.
“Don’t argue,” he muttered.
“I didn’t say a word,” she said, and then leaned her head against his chest, grateful for his strength.
The ride up the elevator was silent. Ally took one look at their reflection in the mirrored car and closed her eyes, unable to face the expression on her own face—or on his. There were emotions she didn’t know how to explore without making a fool of herself, or embarrassing him. Moments later, the doors opened and East strode out with her still in his arms.
When they entered her suite, it was impossible to mistake the meaning of the packed suitcases by the door. He stifled a frown and kept on going to the bedroom. He set her down on the side of the bed, only to stalk out, returning shortly with both bags in his hands.
“You’ll be needing dry clothes,” he said. “Which one are they in?” She pointed to the larger bag. He set it on the bed and then started to leave when she stopped him with one word.
“Wait.”
He turned. The look on her face said it all. Seconds later she was in his arms. Pressing kisses across her forehead, then her cheeks, he began to gain sanity only after he realized she hadn’t slapped his face.
“God in heaven, I thought you were both—”
Ally put her fingers across his lips. “I’m tougher than I look.”
He cupped her face with the palms of his hands, looking deep into her eyes. He saw her pupils dilate, then her lips part. He sighed, then lowered his head, aware that the inevitability of this moment had been upon him since the day he’d first seen her face.
She tasted of seawater and tears, and an innocence that scared him to death. When she leaned into him and moaned, a surge of need came fast. Then she shuddered, and he became aware of her bare skin and wet clothes and he made himself move away.
“You need to get out of those clothes before you get sick,” he said, and then leaned down and gave her one last kiss.
She took the kiss as if it were a life-giving drink and wondered if she would survive leaving this man after all.
When he turned her loose, she looked away, suddenly embarrassed that she’d given away too much of herself.
East sighed. He didn’t know whether he’d made the situation better or worse, but he did know he would do it again.
“It’s going to be okay,” he said, and picked up his shirt and shoes.
What’s going to be okay? You? Me? Everything? Nothing?
“Oh, sure, I know that,” she said, and tried to pretend that she could kiss a man—even if it was Easton Kirby—without coming undone.
“Take a hot shower and get into some dry clothes. When you come out, I’ll have something to warm you inside, as well.”
She nodded.
“I’m going to go down to the lobby and check with Foster, just to make sure everything is under control. I’ll be right back.”
“There’s no need to—”
East frowned. “I have a need,” he said shortly. “So don’t argue.”
Ally could hardly focus on her shower for thinking about East and needs. It wasn’t until she heard the door slam that she remembered the picture. She shivered again. There would be time enough later to show him the picture and the note. Right now, she needed to be warm. She dug through her suitcase, pulled out a clean pair of pants and a shirt, and some fresh underwear, then headed for the bath. It wasn’t until she was completely undressed that she realized she needed her toilet articles, which were also packed and in the living room. Wrapping a bath towel around her nudity, she ran into the living room and retrieved the small bag from the floor. As she turned, she caught a flash of movement through the French doors leading out to the terrace and stopped to look, absently noting a large, and rather elegant yacht. It occurred to her then that she’d seen it before and as she watched, the skin on the back of her neck began to crawl. She glanced down at the picture on the table and then back out the window.
Taken from the water. The picture had been taken from the water. From a yacht? What if it had been that one?
“Oh man,” she mumbled, and dashed back into her bedroom, frantically throwing clothes aside as she searched for the binoculars she always carried.
Moments later she ran back in the living room with the towel still clutched around her and the binoculars in her hand. Her hands were shaking as she tried to unlatch the exterior door and when it finally gave, she burst out onto the terrace and lifted the binoculars to her face.
It took several seconds before she had them adjusted to the distance, and by then, the yacht was almost around the point. She could see crew moving about, but there were no identifying flags and no name on the side of the boat. Before she could look any further, it disappeared from sight.
Muttering beneath her breath, she retreated back inside and closed the door. It seemed highly unlikely that a rich man should buy such a magnificent toy and then neglect to give it a name. And while she knew there were hundreds of boats that sailed up and down these shores in any given year, instinct told her this one had been different.
“Damn it,” she muttered as she tossed the binoculars on the sofa and headed for a much-needed shower.
A short while later, she came out of the bath with the towel wrapped around her again, intent on getting into clean clothes. But she wasn’t prepared for the man standing in her room, or the look on his face.
“Oh!” she gasped, clutching the towel a little tighter. “You startled me.”
“What the hell is this about?” East asked, and tossed the picture and the note on the bed between them.
She sighed, then reached for her clothes. “You tell me,” she said. “It was delivered to the desk this morning. A bellhop brought it up.”
East thought of Jonah and his expression darkened. “This isn’t good.”
“Oh, I don’t know,” Ally drawled. “I thought they captured your best side. However, had I known, I might have worn a different dress. White rarely photographs well on me.”
“Damn it, Ally, this is serious.”
“It has to do with Jonah, doesn’t it?”
A dark flush spread across his cheeks as he gave her a hard, angry stare.
“Just get dressed,” he muttered, and stalked out of the room.
Her shoulders slumped as she dropped to the side of the bed. “So much for the hour of the heroine. Now it’s back to being the bearer of bad news.”
East was pacing when Ally walked into the living room. He stopped, picked up a glass of wine from the bar and thrust it into her hands.
“The something warm that I promised you,” he muttered.
“Am I to drink it, or drown myself in it?” she drawled.
East jabbed his hands through his hair in an angry gesture, then took a deep breath and made himself calm.
“Look, there are things going on that you don’t u
nderstand.”
“Obviously.”
“The picture…it blows your cover…not just for this little job you were sent to do, but for anything else…ever.”
“Not necessarily,” Ally said, and sniffed the wine before taking a sip. Then she wrinkled her nose and set the glass aside. “I like it sweeter.”
“Two hundred and ninety-five dollars a bottle and she wants grape juice,” East muttered, then pointed. “Drink the damn stuff anyway.”
Ally lifted her chin in gentle defiance. “I may not be wise in the ways of lust and seduction, but I am intelligent enough to know when I don’t want to drink. I am tough. I have been in worse situations. I will not succumb to pneumonia or faint.”
She moved toward him until there was little but guesswork between them, then jabbed her finger into his chest. “What I do want are some answers. My career is on the line and I don’t even know why.”
“Ask Jonah.”
“He’s not here. I’m asking you.”
East spun toward the window, his shoulders hunched against the truth of her words. Silence followed, then lengthened. When he finally turned around, it gave him a measure of satisfaction to see that she hadn’t moved. In a way, it was the final proof for him that she had more than her intelligence. She had staying power. It was a good trait.
“This changes everything. We need to talk to Jonah,” East said.
“Are you going to help him?” Ally asked.
East frowned. “I don’t know.”
Ally shrugged and moved toward the front door. “Let me know when you do.”
East’s eyebrows rose. “Where the hell are you going?”
“To get something to eat. I’m starving. Oh, and by the way, the little boy…is he going to be all right?”
East nodded. “Yes. His parents called from the hospital. The boy is in observation, but he’s not in any imminent danger.”
“That’s one good thing for the day, isn’t it, East?”
