Heat of the Moment

by Diana Duncan

  She pressed a shaky hand to her galloping heart. “I thought you said you couldn’t fight them?”

  “I said I didn’t sword fight. Hellfire, wench.” His grin flashed white and wicked in his gorgeous, stubbled face, and her stomach flip-flopped for a different reason. “I grew up with three brothers. We were scrapping before we could walk.”

  One advantage to not avoiding conflict—apparently, you got very good at handling it. But then she’d established that, unlike her, he was good at everything. “Wench?” She scowled. “I might have to hurt you for that.”

  His grin widened, and his warm lips met hers in a hard, fast kiss that rocketed her heartbeat higher than during their swoop across the bay.

  The crowd stomped and whistled, and she rolled her eyes. “I smell Irish cured ham.”

  He laughed. “C’mon, Just Kate. We have to get below decks.”

  The frigate rattled beneath the pirate ship’s cannon barrage and sunk lower. The busy crew didn’t notice as the pair stole below. Murphy, who’d been left on the pirate ship, barked.

  She’d never blot out the picture of his violent attack. Of razor-sharp fangs tearing bloody flesh. She shuddered, suddenly queasy. She remembered all too well the horror and pain of a dog attack. She touched her twisted scars. As much assistance as Murphy had given them, as much as the attack had been necessary, she was thankful he wasn’t nearby right now.

  The dark, cavernous hold reeked of damp wood, and the air smoked with sulfur from the mock sea battle raging above. She rotated the book light as Liam conducted a quick visual search.

  He strode toward the prow and pursed his lips. “Too easy.” The bomb was in plain sight, anchored to a supporting timber.

  “He’s in a hurry, and getting sloppy?” She followed with the light as he circled the huge post, studying the bomb.

  “Not freaking likely. What the hell?” He scowled. “A high school freshman with Internet access could have rigged this. It’ll take all of ninety seconds to neutralize.”

  “Is it a trap of some kind? A decoy?”

  He shook his head. “No, he wanted the explosive matter easily extracted. Why?”

  Artillery fire boomed. The ship quaked again, and settled lower. Splashes echoed as the crew abandoned the sinking vessel. In this production, only the captain went down with the ship. Wetness sloshed her feet, and she glanced down. She was calf deep in water. Her heart lurched. Warm water. Water that had absorbed the super-heated Vegas atmosphere. Water that was maintained at a comfortable temperature for performers who got doused six times a night. “Liam? What temperature is the bay?”

  He dipped his hand. “A few degrees over body temperature.” He swore. “And when the chemical submerges…” He swore again. “Hot damn! This guy is the Einstein of explosives.”

  Pulse racing, she gestured at the plastic bag peeking out of his pants pocket. “Put it in the plastic bag.”

  “Not enough insulation.” He grabbed her arm and spun her around, towed her forward. “Kate, bug out of here!”

  She dug in her heels. “I got you into this mess. I am not leaving you!”

  “No time for debate!” He gritted his teeth and yanked her toward the ladder. “Damn stubborn woman. Go!”

  “Not on your life.” She fought his pull. I’m sticking with you to the bitter end.” She gasped. “Sticking! The duct tape! It’s thick and waterproof!” She pointed to the roll at his belt. “Seal the explosive inside the tape!”

  Admiration lit his eyes. “Yeah. Three or four layers might buy enough seconds to get topside.” His glance ricocheted around the massive hold. “Dump the ammo from that metal tin and hand it over. Containing the explosive will reduce the impact.”

  The water crept above her knees as she emptied the tin and slogged to where Liam was disassembling the device. He slid the pale green sheet out of the metal casing and looked at her. Confidence gleamed in his gaze. “Hold out your hand.”

  Trembling, she did as he requested. He carefully set the explosive on her palm. She gulped. He trusted her to hold an explosive…standing thigh deep in warm water that would detonate instantly if she fumbled. She attempted to steady her breathing.

  She’d better not fumble.

  By the time he’d slashed the tape and sealed the explosive, water had hit her abdomen and was crawling upward.

  He grabbed the tin from her, thrust the sealed explosive inside and rammed the lid shut. “Kate, go.”

  “What about you?”

  “Almost done. Get the hell outta here!”

  Floundering through waist deep waves in the sodden dress, she swam to the ladder. She spent precious seconds to strip off draggy petticoats and her sandals. Then she looked back at Liam.

  He was furiously strapping the tin to a timber above his head. The ship moaned and heaved sharply to the side, and waves beat at his chest. “Climb, dammit!” he gritted.

  Praying all the way, she scrambled up the rocking ladder.

  When she reached the top, she struggled out onto the deck, and then turned and leaned into the hatch. “Liam?” she shouted.

  “Behind you,” he yelled from too far away. “Jump ship!”

  Should she go back for him? No. She’d only slow him down. She staggered across the listing deck. The ship rode low on the waterline, the bay practically at her feet. Liam, where are you?

  After a final agonized glance over her shoulder at the empty deck, she scaled the rail and jumped.

  She hit the water at the same time an earsplitting boom shattered the night. Half the bay spewed up. The violent burst radiated shock waves, and tumbled her over and over underwater.

  Unable to determine which way was up, she thrashed in blind panic. She couldn’t see. Couldn’t breathe. She was drowning.

  Then something slammed into her and knocked her to the surface. Liam? Choking, gasping, she gazed wildly around. The ship’s captain, the last actor in the water, was heaved ashore by crewmembers. She spun, searching the floating debris that bobbed beneath spotlights surrounding the bay. “Liam?”

  Where was he?

  Frenzied barking snagged her attention. Murphy had found them. Perched on a rock at the bay’s edge, he leaned over and barked in frantic staccato. Was he pointing out the bomb? The dog’s body shook, and his high-pitched barks rang over the water. When Murphy located a bomb, he went still. The dog was agitated.

  She inhaled and dove. The spotlights offered limited vision in the murky depths. She searched the area below where Murphy barked, his voice muffled beneath the waves. The hull had split into three large pieces. With the dress dragging at her legs, she swam into the first section and found nothing but wreckage. She had to surface for air before searching the second.

  Still nothing.

  Her heart stuttered in fear. If Liam had survived the explosion, he would drown while she searched fruitlessly.

  Ignoring her tortured lungs, she swam into the third section. She twisted through jagged, tangled timbers. Her hem caught on a splintered board and jerked her up short. She yanked, finally tore loose. Dizzy from oxygen deprivation, she didn’t have time to navigate the slanted maze and laboriously make her way to the surface. Remembering lessons from long ago summers at camp, she went limp and let gravity float her upward.

  She would die trying before she gave up on Liam.

  Her head broke free of water, and bumped wood. She’d found an air pocket inside the upturned hull. Cracked boards allowed slender fingers of light to pierce the darkness. Her strained lungs inflated. Treading water, she clung to a broken plank.

  A hand grabbed her shoulder from behind. She shrieked and spun.

  Liam floated behind her in the claustrophobic space. “Kate! Are you all right?”

  “Liam!” She flung herself at him. Wedged against the crisscrossed beams in front of him, she skimmed anxious hands over his face. A dark bruise shadowed his jaw, but she didn’t see any blood. “Thank God!” I was so scared.” She hugged him tightly. “Follow me. I’ll show you the
way out.”

  “I’d love to go with you.” He smiled ruefully. “But I’m wedged behind two crossed beams. They’re jammed against the bottom, and I can’t get leverage in this cramped space.”

  She cupped his face. “Stay right here. I’ll get help.”

  He chuckled. “Not going anywhere.”

  She let go of him and immediately sank. She flailed upward, spat water. “Shoot. This danged gown weighs a ton. I need to take it off.” She turned around. “Unlace me?”

  Amusement tinged his voice. “I thought you’d never ask.”

  “You’re incorrigible.”

  “Yup. Incurable.” His fingers tugged at her dress. He swore. “These wet laces won’t budge. Grab my knife.”

  She rotated to face him and slipped her hand between the boards. His sash was in the way, and she tugged it loose. “Your gun belt is snagged on something. I can’t get past it.”

  “Release the catch, but try not to let it fall.”

  She’d have to use her good hand to unhook the belt. Which meant catching it with her bad hand. Concentrating hard, she fumbled with the unfamiliar buckles in the narrow space. His gun belt came loose. For a second, she had a firm hold on it, then it slid through her weak fingers and sank like a rock. Oh, no! Except for his knife, he was unarmed. “I’m sorry.”

  “Don’t sweat it. You did your best. Just get the knife.”

  Berating herself, she slid her fingers over his hipbone. It was hard to maneuver by feel alone.

  He sucked in a breath. “That’s not my knife, babe.”

  “Oh!” She snatched her hand back. “Sorry again.”

  His low laugh was wickedly sexy. “I’m not.”

  She found the knife on her second try. He cut the laces, and she managed to return his knife without groping him. His big, capable hands slid the dress down over her arms, and she wriggled out of the restricting garment. It fell away, leaving her in a black lace demi bra and matching bikinis.

  He whistled in appreciation. “If that’s the last sight I see on this earth, I’ll die a happy man.”

  Raw fear sliced through her. “You’re not going to die!”

  “A figure of speech, honey.” He smoothed his palm over her wet hair. “I have no intention of croaking anytime soon.”

  “You’d better not.” She pressed her lips to his in a quick kiss. Free of the gown, she slithered through the wreckage. She surfaced, and her heart sank to the bottom of the bay. Everyone had left after the staged battle. As Liam had stated, they would have assumed the pyrotechnics had malfunctioned and wouldn’t call the authorities. There would be no more shows tonight.

  Terror twisted inside her. Except for Murphy, who stood trembling on shore, she was alone.

  She could climb out and dash into the hotel. But by the time she explained, enlisted help and everyone returned to the pool, he’d have run out of oxygen in the tiny space. Or if the wreckage shifted and eliminated the air pocket, he’d drown.

  No, saving Liam was up to her.

  Nausea roiled in her stomach. She couldn’t even remove his gun belt without fumbling. And she was supposed to save his life? But there wasn’t anyone else. She inhaled and shored up her waterlogged courage. All right, she’d save him. She dove again, and navigated the wooden jumble beneath the hull.

  Liam’s dazzling smile broke her heart. “That was fast.”

  She bit her lip. “Everyone’s gone. It’s just me.”

  “So what’s the bad news, Just Kate?” His easy grin flashed. “We’ve worked together all day, with a hundred percent success ratio.” He fished a rope out of the water. “I’ll tie this to the front beam.” He knotted the rope. “Loop it over the pole behind your head. Between both of us, it’ll shake loose.”

  “I hope so.” She eyed the heavy, crossed timbers imprisoning him in a wooden cage. “This seems risky.”

  “If you don’t gamble, you never win.”

  She shot a scared look at her crippled hand. For his sake, this risk better pay off. “You never lose, either.”

  “Don’t you?” He gave her a long, considering look. “No worries, Kate. Like you, my number’s not up yet.”

  He passed her the rope. “You yank and I’ll kick. Dive under the second it loosens.”

  Anxiety scalded her. If anything went wrong… Liam braced his palms on the roof. “Now!” His boot slammed the beam, and she strained on the rope. The barricade shivered, but didn’t budge.

  “Once more!” He kicked again, and she pulled with everything she had. The timber groaned, shuddered and a loud crack reverberated overhead. “Dive!” he shouted.

  She jackknifed as the entire structure collapsed.

  Kate surfaced and scanned the roiling water for Liam.

  He didn’t appear.

  With horrific images searing her brain, she dropped under again and searched for him.

  She found him on the bottom. He was conscious, but a huge beam had fallen on his right arm. No matter how hard they tugged and pushed in frenzied unison, they couldn’t move it.

  He was trapped.

  Kate’s aching lungs forced her to surface. She gasped in air and screamed for help. Murphy barked furiously.

  Nobody came.

  Desperate tears flooded her eyes, streamed down her face. She hadn’t saved Liam. She’d killed him.

  Chapter 12

  11:00 p.m.

  Held captive at the bottom of the bay, Liam tried repeatedly to yank free. His brain quickly devised and discarded tactical plans. The scenario wasn’t exactly loaded with options.

  He couldn’t gain leverage to budge the beam wedged across his right arm. Hell, he couldn’t even turn over. He couldn’t reach his Swiss Army knife to cut his own arm off, or he’d have done it. He pounded the timber. Trapped. Helpless. Useless.

  He could only wait…and pray that Kate found help. Fast.

  A bombshell of enlightenment detonated, and he reeled. This was how Kate felt. She constantly battled the fear and frustration of losing her right arm. She lived with ceaseless pain. She’d been forced to surrender her independence and dignity and depend on others.

  His pulse stuttered in empathy. If a similar handicap had ended his career…if he’d been denied the release of driving his Mustang, or had to give up the creative pleasure of rebuilding his house, he would be angry and resentful. Yet Kate had overcome her obstacles with determination and grace. She had reassembled the broken, bloody pieces and started over. With no family encouragement. All alone on her gut-wrenching trudge to redemption, she’d learned not to count on backup.

  No wonder she was scared to live life to the fullest. To take chances. No wonder she wanted to play it safe.

  He didn’t blame her.

  His body screamed for air. He grappled with panic, strove to slow his heartbeat and conserve resources. He was rapidly running out of oxygen. Rapidly running out of time.

  Harsh reality slammed him. Maybe his number was up. Maybe today was his day to die.

  He’d cursed, outsmarted and gambled with death. But he’d never come face-to-face with the Grim Reaper. He’d never stared into his cold, merciless eyes and seen his own end.

  Regrets? Yeah, he had a couple. Like not being honest with his family. They’d remember him as good-time Liam. Ready with a funny quip or a cheerful hand up. But would they know how much he loved them? He should have come right out and told them.

  After Michelle had dumped him and Pop had been snatched away far too soon, he’d taken refuge in humor. Starting at age nineteen, he’d hidden his pain behind a smoke screen of jokes and laughter. If he bounced from woman to woman, they couldn’t leave him first. A party-hearty guy had no time to notice soul-deep loneliness.

  His pulse thundered in the taut silence. He hadn’t been enjoying the present…he’d been running from his past.

  He’d been so busy living in the moment, he’d never considered his future.

  And he wanted a future…with Kate. She was the only woman he couldn’t sway wit
h charm. She called him out when he camouflaged his feelings with irreverence. She forced him to be real.

  From their very first meeting, she’d seen past the blarney to the man beneath. That’s why she’d fled from his bed. Somehow, she’d sensed his inability to commit. Intense, focused, loyal Kate wasn’t a woman who treated anything or anyone casually.

  He ramped up his struggle to shift the massive timber. He couldn’t die now. Who would protect her from the head case stalker? How would she rescue her photos? What would happen to the tiny, fragile girl waiting for a new kidney?

  His diaphragm burned from holding his breath. “Experts” claimed drowning was peaceful. Painless. Dead wrong. There was too much time to ponder. To regret. To mourn. He’d never been scared of dying. He figured he’d go quick and clean, rocketed skyward in a bright, hot flash. He never expected to die alone in icy blue twilight, smothered by slow, agonizing degrees.

  Near bursting, his lungs strained. Black spots blurred his vision. Though he fought to hold in every molecule of oxygen, he couldn’t stop the insistent escape of air from his nostrils. He watched the bubbles stream upward. His final breath. He battled the irresistible urge to inhale, and his chest spasmed. His next breath would fill his lungs with water. Would kill him. Fear sank sharp talons into his spine, twisted in his gut.

  Kate floated down in front of him, a beautiful angel of mercy. His laboring heart bucked. He wouldn’t die alone after all. He reached for her. He yearned to tell her he was fiercely glad that her beloved face would be the last thing he saw.

  She cradled his face in her hands. Her tender hands would be the last touch he felt. She pressed her mouth to his. Her soft lips would be the last to kiss him.

  Black weight bore down, dimming his consciousness. Dragging him into the darkness. Racked by sorrow, shaking with desperate fury, he tangled his fingers in her hair, clung to her. No, dammit! He would not go! He would not leave her!

  Pop, if you have any influence up there, help me!

  The answer was swift. Unexpected. Kate breathed into his mouth, filled him with her breath. Her essence revived him. Her breath fed his starved lungs, chased darkness from his sight.