Deadly Engagement

by Elle James

  “So far so good.” He grabbed Emma’s hand, and they descended the steep path to the pebbled beach below where Dave waited with their wet suits, BCDs, tanks and DPVs. He gave them basic instruction on how to operate the devices and how long the battery would last, and then stood aside as they geared up and slipped into the water.

  If possible, the water felt colder than the day before. Probably a residual effect of how little sleep they’d had in the past forty-eight hours. The DPVs had a max speed of a little more than three miles per hour. Fortunately it wasn’t far from where they were to the location of the sunken yacht. They’d be there in fifteen minutes or less, depending on current and obstacles. Dave had set them up with twin tanks, extending the amount of bottom time they’d have to find the cargo.

  Creed hoped it wouldn’t take both tanks full of air to locate what Macias was desperate to find. The longer they were down, the more chance of running into trouble from Macias or the shark they’d seen two days earlier.

  Using his GPS dive watch, Creed led the way, keeping an eye out for predators of both ocean and land varieties. Every minute or two, he’d glance back to make certain Emma was close on his fins. As finicky as some DPVs were, he could be way ahead of her before he discovered she wasn’t there.

  He slowed and let her swim up alongside him. The more time he spent with her, the greater his appreciation for her gumption and commitment to the people of her community. The woman was everything a man could want and more. Nurturing, kind, athletic, fearless and beautiful. How any man could walk away from her was beyond Creed’s comprehension.

  Emma’s ex-fiancé was a fool, choosing money over the love of such a woman. If Creed considered himself a staying kind of guy, he’d have been honored to call Emma his fiancée and worked every day to earn her respect and love.

  The fifteen minutes of travel time with nothing but the gentle whir of the DPV’s engine and the bubbles expelled from his regulator to distract him gave Creed far too much time to think about Emma. Making love to her had been all he’d expected and more. The woman was beautiful, sexy and passionate. If he had more time in Cape Churn, he’d spend it making love to her. But he was destined to complete this mission and move on. Emma was part of this place and would remain there when he was gone. Why dream of something that would never happen?

  They finished the distance side by side, arriving at the yacht together. Creed stopped Emma a few yards short of the boat, hovering near a huge underwater boulder covered in barnacles and colorful sea anemones.

  For several long minutes, he watched for movement in and around the yacht. Nothing stirred behind the large glass windows. As he started forward, a dark shadow flitted overhead. Creed shot a glance upward, yanking his dive knife from the scabbard around his ankle, ready to defend himself and Emma from sharks or thugs.

  A curious harbor seal dove down to where they were, swimming between the rocks, and then flipped around and circled them. After a few moments, the seal darted away, leaving them alone with the yacht.

  When Creed felt certain they were the only human divers in the area, he set his DPV on the far side of the boulder, out of sight of the yacht. Emma set hers beside his. If they needed to make a quick getaway, they’d have them readily available and hidden.

  Having searched the cabin level and the middle deck lounge, Creed moved toward the top deck where they’d found the dead captain. The helm was a small room lined with an array of instruments, including GPS, radio and navigational equipment. Behind the observation windows was a wall sectioned off with a number of cabinets. Some were unlocked, others secured with small locks.

  Emma started on one end of the cabinets, opening the unlocked doors and peering inside. She, too, had a dive knife she used to pry open the locked doors.

  Creed worked from the other end. He found charts, logbooks and a pack of cigarettes, but nothing that looked important enough to kill for. As he moved toward the center and Emma, he jimmied the locked doors with his knife and opened them to find a sextant, a portable GPS device and spare parts for the radio and navigational equipment—backups should technology fail them.

  At the center of the wall a small, innocuous drawer was all that remained to be searched. Creed was already thinking of where to look next when Emma popped the lock on it and pulled the drawer open. Inside was dark.

  At first it appeared empty. Then Emma dug her knife into the drawer and it snagged on a black velvet bag at the very bottom of the drawer. With limited lighting, they might have missed it.

  Emma removed it and turned the bag over, dumping its contents into her palms.

  The lights from their headlamps shone down on a pile of brilliantly glittering diamonds. Emma’s hand shook and she almost dropped them, her eyes round, shocked.

  As many as there were, it had to be a small fortune’s worth of the precious stones. A fortune that could purchase enough highly enriched uranium to blow California into the ocean.

  Creed helped Emma pour the diamonds back in the velvet pouch and tightened the drawstring, double-knotting it to prevent the diamonds from accidently falling out. He tucked the bag into a Velcro pocket on the side of his BCD and pressed the Velcro in place, locking the stones in.

  With Macias’s bargaining chips in hand, it was time to get the hell out of the yacht and back to shore before Macias discovered their find.

  Anxious to get Emma back to safety, Creed hurried out of the yacht without performing a thorough check of the surrounding seascape.

  Out of the corner of his eye, he saw movement. Four divers swam toward them, two carrying spearguns.

  Creed snagged Emma’s hand and shoved her toward the boulder where they’d hidden the DPVs. If she made it there, she might have a chance to escape. In the meantime, Creed had to divert the divers’ attention.

  He turned and swam straight toward them, a maneuver he hoped they wouldn’t expect. As the two with the spearguns took aim, he ducked behind a boulder and circled around behind them. A spear whooshed by him, barely missing his leg and bouncing off a huge rock.

  With his knife ready, he swam up behind the man closest to him and snagged his air hose with the blade, ripping a hole in it. Air bubbled freely, racing to the surface. The man followed the bubbles, opting to breathe rather than fight.

  Before the man who’d shot at him with his speargun could reload, Creed swam straight at him, grabbed his hose and would have ripped a hole in it, but the man twisted and dove, taking Creed with him, the other two men racing after them, one of them aiming his speargun.

  Creed ripped a hole in the air hose, grabbed the man and twisted around, kicking hard as the man with the speargun let loose a spear.

  His spear pierced his own man’s leg. Wounded and without air, the man gave up the fight and aimed for the surface, kicking his good leg, the spear firmly lodged in his other leg, blood streaming from the wound in a red cloud, mixing with the seawater.

  Which made the odds a little better. Two very angry men against one. Hoping Emma had made it out with her DPV, Creed wove in and out of the rocks, working his way back to the spot he’d left his DPV. As he neared it, one of the men caught up to him and grabbed his fin, yanking him backward.

  Creed struggled, let the fin’s strap slip off the back of his foot and kicked away from his attacker. No sooner was he free than the other man grabbed his air hose and yanked.

  His regulator flew out of his mouth and he struggled to free himself from one man, then suddenly the other had hold of him, too.

  Without air, he didn’t have long before he lost the fight. He waved his knife, hoping to catch one of the men, but they stayed behind him, holding on to his tanks to keep him from spinning around and sinking his blade into them.

  Then, out of the shadows, a flash of bright yellow blew past him—Emma, hanging on to the DPV, sped past his attackers and sliced one air hose. That man let go o
f Creed and started after Emma, but soon realized he didn’t have air and headed to the surface.

  With only one man holding him, Creed twisted and turned. A blade flashed in his peripheral vision, and a sharp pain lanced through his arm. Creed fought hard, kicking his single fin to drive himself backward, banging the man against a huge boulder. It didn’t faze his attacker, buoyancy making him bounce off the rock. It only distracted him enough to force him to hold on and stop trying to sink his knife into Creed.

  His lungs burning for another breath and feeling desperate, Creed reached over his head, grabbed the man’s mask and tugged hard.

  The man rolled over the top of him and lost his grip on Creed, his mask filling with water, temporarily blinding him.

  Emma swung by, grabbed Creed’s hand and pulled him out of reach of his attacker, just as the man cleared his mask and was looking around for his victim.

  With his free hand, Creed felt over his shoulder for the hose, followed it to the end with the regulator and jammed it between his teeth. He cleared the water and tested the hose’s reliability carefully before sucking in a long, much-needed breath. With only a two-yard lead and two people slowing the single DPV, it wouldn’t be long before the last attacker caught up with them.

  One fin kicking madly, Creed helped propel them forward until Emma slowed enough that he could grab the second DPV from its hiding place behind the boulder. He dragged it along with them and, precious seconds later, had started the engine. He let go of Emma’s hand, his own device propelling him. With two DPVs going, they soon left the last attacker in their wake as they sped toward the shore at a whopping three miles per hour.

  Creed patted the pocket on his BCD to assure himself that he hadn’t lost the booty in the struggle to get away. Now that they had what Macias was after, their lives were in even more danger than before. The suspected terrorist would stop at nothing to reclaim what was his and continue his plan of mass destruction.

  Chapter 10

  Emma sat in the shallows, waves splashing up over her, spraying her face and knocking her over several times. Her hands shook so badly it took several attempts before she could release the strap on the back of her fins. She wasn’t certain her legs would hold her once she stood. But she had to try. Staying where she was in the water off the point was not an option. They had to get the diamonds back to Cape Churn before they were attacked again.

  Creed managed to rise to his feet first, crossing to where she sat. He squatted down and grabbed her fins, looping them over his arm, then took her hand and pulled her to her feet and into his arms, kissing her soundly. When his lips left hers, he whispered, “Thank you.”

  Leaning against Creed, Emma pressed her face into the neoprene of his wet suit, letting the past hour’s events wash over her. “They almost killed you.”

  “But they didn’t.” He hooked his finger beneath her chin and nudged her face upward. “Because of you.” He kissed her again.

  Emma gripped his arms to steady herself and felt something warm and sticky on her hands. Not the cool wetness of seawater. When she pulled her hand away, it was covered in blood.

  Her pulse slamming against her veins, she tried for calm. “Creed, you’re bleeding.”

  “I’m okay.”

  “No, you’re not.” She unbuckled his BCD and shoved it over his shoulders.

  Creed winced, but let the straps slide down his arm, easing it over the slash in his arm.

  Emma took the tanks and BCD and laid them on the rocks, then unzipped Creed’s wet suit and tried to push it over his shoulders.

  Creed grabbed her wrists and stepped away from her helpful hands. “Emma, we need to get out of here.” He turned away and began gathering equipment as though he’d never been injured. Except blood dripped off his fingertips onto the equipment and the ground.

  “You might bleed to death before we get up the hill.” Emma ran around his side, trying to get a better idea of how deep the cut went and how much blood he was losing. “Stop, damn it!” She stood in front of him and held on to his hurt arm with both hands. “I’m a nurse. Let me help.” She parted the cut edges of the wet suit and gazed at the long deep cut and gasped. “Not good, sailor.”

  “I’ll live.”

  “Emma! Creed!” Dave yelled from the top of the pathway, and waved before hurrying down to help them with the gear. “I was getting worried about you two so I went up top to get a better view.” He came to a staggering stop in front of the scuba gear.

  “Creed’s bleeding.” Emma held out her hand. “Give me your T-shirt.”

  “My T-shirt?” Dave stared at her, his brow furrowed. “But it’s my favorite.”

  “Give it,” she demanded.

  He jerked the shirt over his head and handed it to her.

  Without hesitating, she ran her dive knife through the bottom edge and ripped off a long strip.

  Dave gasped. “You tore it!”

  “And I’m going to tear it a whole lot more.” Emma jerked her head toward Creed. “Help him out of the suit.”

  Dave tugged the sleeve of the wet suit over the injured arm, while Creed stood resolute, his jaw clenched.

  Emma hurriedly tore the shirt into long strips, folded a piece into a thick square and pressed the wad to the open, bleeding wound. “Hold this while I wrap it.”

  “Did I tell you that I faint like a girl at the sight of blood?” Dave said, his voice teasing but weak.

  Emma guided Dave’s hand to the spot and pressed down. “Hold it tight. And not all girls faint.”

  “This one does.” Dave held the pad in place, but looked away, his face blanched. “I hate blood.”

  A tight smile played at the corner of the former SEAL’s lips. “It’s just a little cut.”

  “Dave, you pass out on me and I swear to God...” Emma warned, her voice firm, no-nonsense.

  “I don’t like blood,” Dave whined. “Passed out the last time I cut my big toe.”

  Emma’s fingers flew over the wound. “You clean and fillet fish, for heaven’s sake.”

  “That’s fish blood, not... Never mind.” Dave closed his eyes.

  After Emma wrapped a long strip around the thick muscle of Creed’s arm, she knotted it snugly over the gash for added pressure. “Okay, Dave, you can open your eyes and remove your fingers from the bandage.”

  Dave eased his hand from beneath the knot. “Don’t make me do that again.”

  “Trust me,” Creed said through gritted teeth. “I’ll avoid it the best I can.”

  “What the hell happened down there?” Dave asked.

  Emma eased the straps of her BCD, which still held the two tanks, but didn’t remove them. They still had to get Creed and all the equipment up the hill. “We’ll tell you all about it, after I take Creed to the hospital.”

  Creed’s tight smile disappeared. “I don’t need a hospital. It’s just a flesh wound.”

  Emma shook her head. “Like hell. You need stitches. We’re going to the hospital.”

  “Uh, Creed.” Dave slung Creed’s BCD with the two tanks over his shoulders and gathered the DPVs, one in each hand. “In case you haven’t noticed, she has a way of making you do things you always swore you wouldn’t.” The owner of Dave’s Dive Adventures hiked up the path, lugging as much as he could carry.

  Creed followed and snagged the fins, draping them over his good arm, muttering, “I’m beginning to learn.” He swayed and steadied himself on the uphill side of the slope.

  Emma snorted. “Yeah. Just a flesh wound.”

  “We don’t have time to go to the hospital,” Creed argued. “We have to get these diamonds somewhere safe.”

  “Diamonds?” Dave stopped short.

  Creed stumbled into him, and Emma placed a hand in the middle of his back to keep him from tumbling back down the h
ill. “Delirious, too? March, frogman.”

  “Stubborn woman,” he grumbled.

  Dave continued up the hill, wheezing by the time he got to the top. “The things I do for women.”

  Creed made it a little less winded but pale, his lips pressed into a thin line.

  While Dave loaded the gear into his truck, Emma shed her BCD and tanks and slid an arm around Creed’s waist, letting him lean on her as she guided him to the passenger seat of her Jeep. “Okay, tough guy. Try not to bleed on my upholstery.”

  “Yes, ma’am.” He leaned heavily on her and grinned.

  Dave loaded Emma’s gear and turned toward them. “You gonna make it all right with him?”

  “I’m not that bad,” Creed maintained.

  Emma nodded. “We’ll be fine.”

  “Then I’ll see you at the hospital.” Dave climbed into his truck. “I gotta hear this story.”

  “Dave, be careful. Those people who hit your boat were after us. They might make you a target again if they think you’re helping.”

  “Think?” Dave snorted. “I am helping you. Dear Lord, does this mean I’ll be seeing more blood?”

  “Not necessarily.” Emma shifted into Drive, her foot on the brake. “Just watch your back.”

  “Same to ya. Hate to lose Cape Churn’s best nurse. In case I have a bleeder like Creed, there.” Dave drove ahead of them, bumping along the rutted track until he reached the paved road.

  Creed leaned across the seat and hit Emma’s horn.

  Dave stopped and hopped out, hurrying back to find out what Emma wanted.

  “What the hell?” Emma glared at Creed.

  “Did you realize Dave just drove away with the diamonds?” Creed unbuckled his seat belt and climbed out.

  “Something wrong?” Dave asked.

  Creed walked with Dave to the back of his truck. “I need something out of a pocket in my BCD.”