There seemed no other choice but to give up and stop fighting, let herself be pulled out to the ocean without battling the inevitable. Profound fatigue soaked into every muscle fiber, every pore.
No, came the very small whisper into her mind. She grabbed hold of it and started to chastise herself. You will not give up. You will not leave those people behind. You will not leave your sister and Gracie.
And Reuben.
She turned on her back, face to the rain, and rested as much as she could, trying to steady her breathing against the panic that nibbled away at the edges of her mind.
You will not give up.
She chanted it over and over in her head. Will not. She flipped over and tried again to discern which direction would get her to shore away from Leland. A flash of lightning illuminated the water for a split second, time enough for her to realize she was about a half mile away from a long spit of land that jutted out just past the Anchor. If she could make it there, bypassing the lagoon where Leland lay waiting, she might reach shore.
This time the storm would be her advantage, she decided. The rain was pummeling down so hard it would be difficult for Leland to spot her, a tiny speck amongst so much chaos. Sucking in a deep breath she allowed herself to be driven on the waves for a while, fighting the constant deluge of salt water and rain. By her rough estimation, she should tread water every few feet and reconnoiter. There was only one chance for success. If she let the waves carry her too far, she’d be swept past the spit and there would be no chance of fighting her way back. If she tarried too long treading water, she might not have the strength to claw her way onto the land.
Fatigue was rapidly overcoming her mental reserves. Her shoulder muscles burned from the effort of keeping her afloat. It was impossible to avoid swallowing mouthfuls of seawater, and her eyes began to blur from the stinging rain. You will not give up.
Just a little longer, she told herself, but she realized she was barely resisting the sucking tide. Body cold, thoughts becoming fuzzy, vision blurred. A wave crashed over her head and she was pushed down. Emerging a moment later spluttering and coughing, she went under again when the next wave caught her.
Terror rippling her body, she made it to the surface again. Something bumped her shoulder. She recoiled in terror, her mind spinning with thoughts of alligators or the great white sharks, which she and Reuben had seen out in the deeper water. Had they come in close, disoriented by the storm like she was? Or had she drifted so far out that she was now fair game for the big predators? Her breathing was coming in pants now. Whatever it was bumped her again, and this time she screamed.
Dashing the water from her eyes she realized it was a plastic seat cushion, torn and muddied, probably blown loose from a boat. She grabbed on to it, dismayed when her clumsy fingers could not grip and the cushion slipped from her grasp. With her last supply of strength she heaved herself at it. This time her fingers cooperated and she wrapped her arms around tight. The cushion held, keeping her torso mostly above the water. Panting hard, she clung to the foam, grateful that one small thing had gone right, feeling the exquisite comfort of having something support her in the endless expanse of ocean. Cheek pressed to the sodden fabric, she rested until she felt the strength to raise her head again.
She saw no sign of Leland. The conditions would prohibit her from making them out anyway. Perhaps he and Martin had decided to make a last-ditch effort to reach the mainland, though with the storm raging she did not see how they could have completed the trip.
Ahead loomed the spit of land, crowded with scraggly mangroves. She pushed hard in that direction but found she did not make any progress. The cushion was both a help and a hindrance, keeping her from pulling her way through the water. She did not dare let go as she knew she did not have the strength to keep herself afloat without it.
In spite of her kicking and one-armed thrashing, she could not correct course. The spit of land loomed in front of her, but the waves were rushing past at such a furious pace she knew she would be swept by.
You will not give up, she repeated to herself one last time, the clashing water drowning out her thoughts.
SIXTEEN
Reuben fought to keep his footing as he neared the lagoon, straining to see through the deluge. There was no sign of Antonia. The skimmer was caught on its side among the trees, also empty. He splashed out into the water, listening to the waves increasing in violence as they pounded the outer edge of the trees, trying to piece together what had happened.
“Antonia!” he shouted, but the wind snatched the words away. They’d tried for the mainland? But the skimmer would not be wedged in the lagoon. They’d sought shelter? Where? Only two choices—the boathouse where they might have stored some gear…or the lighthouse.
He didn’t know how long it might take Silvio, Gavin and Paula to make it to the Anchor, but they’d be slow since Gavin was wounded. Would they arrive to find Leland and his buddy waiting? Reuben’s gut throbbed with indecision. Some instinct deep down told him Antonia was nearby, but how could he find her with Tony slamming into the island?
He took the slope to the Anchor at a run, but his efforts left him struggling against the raging tumult that shrieked around him and shoved him back. Bent almost double, he plowed ahead, inching his way up the path one agonizing step at a time until he crested the slope. A tree hurtled by and he ducked aside, the branches thwacking into his burned shoulder. Above his position another half mile was the lighthouse and below, the panorama of the enraged ocean, slamming against the spit of land as if it meant to detach Isla from its moorings and pitch it loose.
Then he saw it.
The sizzle of lightning caught something in the water.
His eyes could not make out the details, but his heart knew. Panic filling every space inside him, he plunged off the path, through the grass and branches that clawed at his clothing until he burst through to the rock-strewn sand. Much of the spit was now underwater except for the highest spine of rock just visible still above the cresting sea. And that’s where he saw her again, head bobbing, arms wrapped around something as she was being swept past the outcropping.
He ran until his feet found no more surface to support them. Then he swam, body thrashing against the power of the hurricane as he struck out toward her, trying to call her name, deluged every time he opened his mouth. The wave walls obscured his vision and he lost her.
Nee, his mind screamed. Show me where you are.
Another crest picked him up, raising him to impossible heights before hurling him down. It was enough. He got the tiniest glimpse of her and struck out again, body fueled by a strength he hadn’t known he possessed.
A new series of waves worked to pull him apart from her, but he fought his way back. Every sinew in his arms and back protested as he battled his way forward until finally he grabbed the pink collar of her shirt.
Her arms were clutched tightly around whatever she was holding.
“Nee!” he shouted.
She did not answer. Her face was dead white and rigid with fear or cold or both. He didn’t waste any more time orienting himself between the crest of one wave and the trough of another. They were not that far from the shore, but the spit was now almost entirely underwater due to the storm surge. The flood was carrying them too fast, near enough to the shore that he could swim, but not while he was clinging tight to Antonia. If he didn’t make it to land soon they would be swept past and drowned in open water.
The rocks were both tantalizing and terrifying, promising rescue from drowning, or death from being crushed against them as the waves had their way. He kicked as hard as he could toward the only small area he could see that was still above the waterline.
It did no good. The waves were strong. Too strong. Every ounce of energy he had left was going into holding on and trying to keep them afloat. His arms burned with the effort, and he found it increasingly difficult to continue treading water.
Despair began to crowd his mind. Still he kept
kicking, trying to cut through the inexorable power of the surf. Through eyes blurred by salt water, he made out the figure of a man who appeared suddenly on the spit as if he’d risen up from the island itself.
He shouted, then stopped. Leland? He could not tell. Something splashed into the water, a blackened gas can with a rope tied around the handle. He lurched for it, but the can was sucked out of view. Treading water in agonizing circles, he looked again. No can, no rope. It must have been reeled in by the man on the spit.
Another splash and this time he grabbed the can, losing his grip on Antonia. She cried out and he let go of the can and went after her until he got hold of her wrist. The cushion pulled away and went careening past the rocks. She fought against the water, trying to move toward him, unable to beat back the surge. He clamped his other hand around her wrist, and she clung to him now, fingers digging into his flesh.
“Move with me,” he shouted.
She thrust her legs and he did the same, and they inched up the spit until the gas can landed again. This time Antonia managed to snag her leg around the rope. He felt like shouting with elation, but he hadn’t the breath.
He waited until she had grabbed the rope with both hands. Kicking to assist the man on the beach, they were pulled foot by agonizing foot onto the rocky point, where he found himself gazing up at the grimacing face of Gavin Campbell and his brother, Hector.
*
Antonia was hauled from the water by unseen hands until she collapsed on the slick black rock. As much as she longed to stay prone on that hard surface, part of her brain knew the entire spit would be submerged in a matter of moments. She felt a hand on her arm, pulling her up, but her knees would not hold. Somehow Gavin was there, shoving his shoulder under Reuben’s, and then someone lifted her and she was being held by a set of strong arms and being carried away from the water.
She looked up into the face of Hector Sandoval. She must be dreaming. She’d survived the ocean to be delivered into the hands of the man who had arranged the whole nightmare. Get away. Fight for your life. Though her brain knew what to do, her body would not cooperate. Escaping from his hold was not possible, as she had not one tiny iota of strength left. Helpless as a rag doll, she let herself be carried away from the spit, toward the sheltering arms of the nearest tiny pocket of lagoon.
There Hector put her down and Reuben collapsed to the ground beside her, panting, on the wet fringe of mud that wasn’t taken up by the stiltlike roots of the mangroves.
Gavin and Hector crouched low to avoid the screaming wind that howled over the tops of the trees. Gavin’s face was drawn with pain, eyes smudged underneath with shadow.
“That impromptu rescue doesn’t change anything!” Gavin hollered at Hector.
Hector shot him a bitter smile. “You will have your pound of flesh, Agent Campbell, after I get mine. Leland is still here. I saw him go to the boathouse just before the eye passed.”
“That w-w-was right after he tried to drown me,” she chattered.
Hector might have replied though she could not be sure over the roar.
Reuben took Antonia’s hand. She felt the pressure of his fingers, but the cold was so deep she could not feel his skin on hers.
Gavin’s eyes narrowed at Hector. “Is that why you took off from the lighthouse after we arrived?”
“Did you think I was running from you?” Hector shouted. “Don’t flatter yourself. I was going to find Leland, and on my way I saw these two.” He turned his gaze back on Reuben. “Whatever you think of me, I never set out to hurt anyone. I really did change my life, brother, but the past came back stronger than ever.” He threw a hand toward the sky. “Just like this storm.”
“Don’t make it worse,” Reuben gasped, sides heaving.
Hector smiled and touched his brother on the shoulder. “Worse? How could any of this possibly get worse?” Then he sprinted out of the mangroves and disappeared.
Gavin moved to follow.
“You can’t catch him,” Reuben said.
Gavin gave him a cocky grin. “You grow oranges. I stop bad guys. Let’s stick to our own jobs, shall we?” he said, getting painfully to his feet, doubled over under the onslaught. “Can you get back to the lighthouse by yourselves? Silvio and Paula are there already.”
Silvio and Paula? Relief billowed inside, warming her a fraction. They’d survived Leland’s assault and escaped the fire.
Antonia didn’t have the energy to nod to Gavin, but Reuben must have because Gavin headed in the direction Hector had taken a moment before. She could not process what had happened; her brain was reeling, battered like her body. She tried to get up, but her knees would not allow it.
“We’ll rest here, just for a little while,” he said in her ear, and she thought she’d never heard such sweet words in all her life. Thoughts and emotions roiled through her body in such a crazy kaleidoscope that she could not arrange a coherent thought.
Reuben moved next to her and they eased down, backs propped against the welcoming arms of the mangroves, his body curled around hers, his arms chafing some small warmth back into her deadened limbs.
“I love you, Antonia,” she heard him say. Or was it the strange echo of a long-ago memory, dredged up by the hurricane? Imagination? Or her heart’s desire?
The wind, the storm, Hector, Leland, the fire. It all faded away in the wake of that touch. “Reuben, I want…I want…” But the rest would not come, not even to her own mind. Tears began to pour from her eyes. He gathered her closer, and she felt the change in him. Where his body had been so cold a moment before, it now began to warm as he pressed her to his chest.
“Just rest, Nee,” he spoke into her ear. “Just rest.” Then somehow she’d turned and his lips were pressed against hers, teasing the life back into her.
She could not see the lagoon for the tears; she could not hear the hurricane over the tumult of her own heartbeat. There was only the feel of Reuben’s kiss, his strong embrace and the profound sense of gratitude that she was alive to experience it once more.
*
Reuben’s eyes blinked open. He’d been dreaming about a perfect kiss, and sparks still danced through his limbs. Disorientation buzzed his brain until a myriad of strange sensations brought him up to speed; the press of the hard mangrove roots in his back, the discomfort of waterlogged clothes and the supreme thrill of Antonia’s head lying against his chest, which drove all the other details away except for one. Water lapped at his legs.
He sat up too quickly and she woke, face blurred with confusion.
“Water’s rising. We’ve got to move,” he urged. The rain was still falling, though perhaps not as violently, he thought, winds still howling and the lagoon was indeed flooding. He took her hand and they struggled free from the mangrove roots and back toward the trail that led to the lighthouse. On the way he berated himself for allowing them to linger so long. The lower part of the trail was under two feet of water, which they splashed through. Antonia kept up as well as she could, but he knew she was exhausted both mentally and physically. Her motions were stumbling and awkward.
He wanted to carry her, to ease something of the burden he’d created, but she would never allow it. He had to get her to shelter, to rest and to some water and food. The storm was weakening, or perhaps that was wishful thinking, and now it was a waiting game. Could they last until help finally arrived?
As he took her hand to help her over another fallen log, he heard her suck in a breath. They both froze as the glossy armored body of an alligator slithered by, half swimming and half waddling where there was debris to support his massive ten-foot body. The animal cast them a glance with its small protruding eyes as if weighing the effort it would require to go after one of them. Reuben knew this guy, had seen him many times while prowling the lagoons with Hector. With a fifty-year life span, it might be the same critter his mother had written about in her journals, naming him Cazador, hunter.
He was not hunting now, Reuben knew. Alligators didn’t run pr
ey down on land; they hunkered quietly in the water, waiting for that easy meal. One giant snap, one or two massive swallows, that was the alligator’s way. Humans would be far too much work. Still a threatened alligator was a ferocious beast with eighty-odd teeth and a bite force of two thousand pounds.
Antonia shivered next to him. Animal lover that she was, alligators scared her, always had.
“He’s not hunting,” Reuben said, “just trying to get back to the lagoon. He’s after shelter, like we are.”
She nodded and gave him a wobbly smile. “Wish I had his waterproof skin.”
That tenuous smile seemed more precious at that moment than anything he’d ever possessed in his whole life. He held it in his mind as the alligator cleared the way and slithered into the deeper water at the bottom of the trail. Suddenly, Reuben’s body moved of its own accord, pulling her close, pressing kisses along her temple and down her neck. He heard her gasp, and he could not bottle up the words as he let the memories of their fight against the surf thunder through him.
“Nee, if anything happened to you, if you were lost…” he mumbled into the sweet place where the pulse throbbed in her throat. Emotions long suppressed exploded through him, sparking trails of longing that started in his stomach and spread through his soul as he savored the feel of her.
She pulled away from him, her eyes enormous in her pale face.
He sucked in a breath, trying to read her expression.
She took his hands between her own and squeezed tightly. “Thank you for swimming out there to get me. You could have died, too.”
And with that string of words, she put their relationship back into clear focus again. Reuben, she doesn’t love you anymore and she can’t get over the past. Pain cut deep and he took a step back, trying to control his breathing, to put the storm of feeling back into the bottle where it would stay except on quiet sun-drenched mornings when he would stand on the beach and watch the morning paint the sky without her.
Love Inspired Suspense December 2013 Bundle: Christmas Cover-UpForce of NatureYuletide JeopardyWilderness Peril Page 33
