by Kaylea Cross
A deep, burning rage built inside Mal. Motherfucker. “Any word on Rowan?”
“Not officially. But it sounds like he might try to hide her with the others.”
Jesus fucking Christ. Montoya thought he could ship her off as part of his skin trade? He snapped his head back around, searching below them frantically. One clue. Something to give away her location. Anything. Where are you, Rowan?
His searching gaze snagged back on the suspended shipping container. It stuck out because it was the only one not stacked neatly on board the waiting ships. None of the other cranes were active. Could Rowan…? “What’s the story on that container?” Mal asked.
Hamilton craned his head to get a better look, switched frequencies to speak to the pilots before responding to Mal. “They’re taking us in lower for a good look.”
Maka got up and moved next to Mal, crouching to inspect the container. “Someone’s in the crane cab,” he said. Khan and Hamilton moved closer to see as well.
A man sat high up in the cab, hands appearing to be on the controls. He shouldn’t still be in there, not with the FBI and DEA clearing everyone else out. Leaving a container dangling like that was obviously unsafe. Was he just putting the container into position on top of the rest before he could shut down the crane?
Hamilton was back on the radio. Mal caught the moment when those gray eyes lifted and found his. Hamilton gave a shake of his head. “That crane’s not supposed to be operating,” he said grimly.
God dammit! Was Rowan in there?
Mal focused back on the container, his heart slamming. He had to fight to keep the sudden leap of emotion in check. “Get us down there.” If Rowan and the other women rumored to be held by Montoya were in there…
Hamilton nodded, was already talking to the pilots. The helo descended, coming in closer to the crane cab. The operator was still at the controls. Uniformed FBI agents were converging on the crane, but it was a hell of a long way up to the cab.
As Mal watched, the crane swung the container out further, moving it away from the ship. His muscles bunched, his whole body tensing. No. “Jesus, tell me he’s not gonna—”
The jaws of the clamp opened and dropped the container, sending Mal’s heart plunging into the water with it.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Trapped in the blackness of the container, Rowan looked up toward the ceiling at the sound of helicopters flying nearby and her heart beat faster. Did someone know they were in here? Was someone coming to rescue them?
The container stopped rising. Then it seemed to be moving sideways for a few seconds, but maybe it was her imagination. They stopped moving again. The noise of the helicopters was louder now.
Please, please, she begged silently, praying it was someone coming to save them.
Then, just as hope began to expand inside her, she gasped and stumbled, unable to catch her balance as the container suddenly plunged downward at an alarming speed.
It didn’t stop. She screamed, the shrill sound drowned out beneath the combined terror of the other girls.
They hit the ground, tossing them all into the air for a moment before they all crashed into the floor. A sharp pain bit into her wrists as whatever bound them snapped.
Rowan shoved up on her hands and knees, looking around in the darkness. A faint ray of light was coming in from the end where Montoya had left minutes before. The impact must have broken the locking mechanism. She rushed for the gap, her body stiff and sore, desperate to escape.
Two steps from the doors, cold water flooded around her ankles, the flow strong enough to almost knock her off her feet.
Sheer terror bolted through her as she realized what had happened. “They dumped us in the water,” she cried, fighting to keep her balance as she slogged toward the doors. They had to get out before it sank.
The other women cried out and converged around her, all of them fighting to get to the only exit. But the flow of water was too strong. As the container filled with water and slipped beneath the surface, it swept them all off their feet and sent them crashing against the far end. Rowan bounced off someone. She sucked in a ragged gasp as icy cold water rushed around her thighs, her hips, climbing every second.
I’m not going to drown. I’m not going to drown. The words beat through her mind over and over.
Frantic, she tried to swim her way forward through the torrent. Couldn’t.
Desperate hands grabbed at her. Tried to use her to propel themselves past her.
Panic took over. She kicked free of the restraining hands. She treaded water for a moment, raised her hand above her to gauge how much air they had left. Her hand hit the unforgiving metal roof now less than two feet above her head.
“Shit,” she breathed, so scared she could barely think. She kept struggling through the water to the open door, watched helplessly while the water came in faster and faster, the light fading as they sank deeper. How far down were they? She had to be right next to the open gap when the water closed over her head, or she’d never get out.
The cold water was up to her chin now, and her muscles were tiring. All around her, frightened screams and crying surrounded her. She choked back a sob, flung an arm off her when it hooked around her neck, all her focus on getting close to the doors, trying to time her last breath…
Her head hit the ceiling. She wrenched her head back to steal those last few precious seconds. Water swirled around her jaw, dark and cold as a grave, waiting to drown her.
Mindless terror gripped her. She gulped in one big, ragged breath and ducked beneath the water, propelling herself toward where the doors should be.
A flailing foot caught her in the stomach, forcing precious air from her lungs. Rowan held her breath and kept swimming, her heart slamming so hard against her ribs she feared it would burst.
Her shoulder hit something hard and metallic. She reached in front of her, blindly shot her hand out and pushed. The metal door swung open.
Grasping the edge of it, she hauled herself through the opening and kicked upward with all her strength, her eyes straining to discern some light above her. She didn’t know how long she swam, the pressure of the water on her eardrums muting everything but the slam of her heart, her limbs freezing, lungs burning.
Up, up she struggled. Oh God, please… I can’t hold it anymore. Need air.
Just when the burning in her chest became agony, when she couldn’t hold her breath for another second, the water began to lighten.
With one final desperate burst of strength, she aimed for the surface and kicked for all she was worth.
****
Christ, the container was in the water and sinking fast.
“Get us down there,” Mal snarled, staring in horror as the rust-red container slipped beneath the surface. He didn’t know how deep the water was here, but if it was deep enough to allow container ships in and out, then anyone locked inside that metal box didn’t have a chance.
The helo dove lower, each second that ticked past its own separate eternity. Mal chucked his gear aside and kept his eyes locked on that container until he lost sight of it. He stood in the open doorway, scanning the surface. Praying that Rowan would make it out—if she was even in there.
Maka moved into place beside him, his huge shoulders filling the rest of the doorway. “We gotta get those doors open,” he shouted over the pulse of the rotors.
Mal nodded, his stomach in knots. He and Maka were totally at home in the water, but they didn’t have tanks or goggles, and every second they lost meant another second without air for the women inside that container.
“We’ll cover you guys from the air until the zodiacs I’ve called for show up,” Hamilton shouted as he appeared next to Mal. “As soon as we’re aboard we’ll pick you up.”
“Roger that,” Maka answered.
Mal stared at the surface as they descended, the rotor wash casting patterns on the water. Come on, come on…
Finally the crew chief gave them the signal.
&nbs
p; Crossing his arms and feet, Mal jumped out feet first. He hit the water and surfaced immediately, turned to give a thumbs-up to the crew. Desperation made his heart pound. The container was already under too deep. They had literally less than a minute to get the women out in time.
Maka hit the water, surfaced and signaled the crew, then turned and swam with Mal toward where the container had gone down. Salt water sprayed their faces as the helo engines increased power and lifted. Mal kept swimming, gauging the current. The tide was going out, the water trying to pull him away from shore and out to sea.
Taking a deep breath, he bobbed up and then dove straight down, slicing through the water as he searched for the container. It was murky as hell, viz next to zero when he got a half-dozen meters down. He couldn’t see shit, let alone the container or any survivors.
He kept swimming, surfacing over two minutes later when the burn in his lungs turned critical. After another breath he dove down again, searching frantically, praying that he’d spot something.
He thought he caught a flash of movement to his three o’clock but couldn’t be sure. Surfacing, he saw Maka’s head break the surface a dozen yards away. “See anything?” he yelled.
“Got something over here.” He dove back under. Mal swam over as fast as he could and followed his teammate. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he spotted something moving beneath him.
He dove deeper, using big strokes to cut through the water. Someone was thrashing their way to the surface. Mal put on a burst of speed and grabbed for the person, hooking an arm around the waist before shooting upward.
They broke the surface a few seconds later. But the woman in his arms wasn’t Rowan. She was naked, sucked in a desperate breath and started choking, her limbs thrashing weakly.
“I’ve got you,” Mal said, turning her onto her back and hooking an arm around her torso in a rescue hold. He glanced around. Maka had resurfaced with another woman, but from the way her head lolled limply, it was already too late.
Fuck. Mal turned in the water, started towing the woman toward shore, searching around him. Rowan, Christ, please don’t be in that container…
A deafening bang from on shore made him snap his head around in time to see a plume of smoke come from the base of one of the gigantic cranes. Then the sound of rending metal screeched through the air, a long, metallic groan and another, louder thud shook the air. A tall plume of dust rose up, and the crane began to topple forward.
Mal bit back a curse and started swimming away as the huge metal skeleton came crashing down into the water, sending a huge wave of water rushing at him.
He turned the woman. “Hang on and hold your breath,” he warned, and ducked under the surface with her. He watched as the wave crashed overhead, the force buffeting them like leaves in a hurricane. The woman fought his grip, panicked. Mal kept his eye on the surface, waited until it was safe before kicking them back up.
The woman dragged in a desperate breath and started crying. Mal looked around.
One Blackhawk still circled overhead, but he wasn’t sure whether it was Hamilton’s or not. Where were the damn zodiacs?
A boat’s engine sounded behind him in the distance.
He spun around as a black zodiac sped toward them. With steady strokes he kept swimming toward it. Something surfaced off to his eleven o’clock. A body, floating facedown. His heart seized for a moment before he saw the blond hair fanning out in the water.
Not Rowan. It was selfish as hell for him to be relieved, but he was so fucking afraid of finding her body here to care.
The zodiacs drew closer. Rodriguez was at the helm of the first one, Hamilton and Khan leaning over the bow as it drew alongside Mal. The other took off toward Maka.
Mal towed the woman in his arms toward the boat. Hamilton and Khan both reached over and hauled her into it, immediately wrapping a blanket around her. Then Hamilton turned back to Mal and reached a hand down. Mal grasped it, propelled himself up and over the rubber gunwale.
“Any others?” Hamilton asked him as Mal got to his knees.
“Over there,” he said, panting as he pointed toward where he’d seen the blonde.
Rodriguez whipped them around and took off toward the woman. They hauled her body in, covered her with a blanket. There were more bodies in the water now. All naked, their hands bound.
Mal swallowed, ready to puke. If he had to find Rowan dead and pull her body from the water knowing he’d been so close when she’d died and unable to save her…
A crushing pressure filled his chest, like a vise was closing on his ribs.
“There!” Khan shouted.
Mal jerked his head around to look where his teammate was pointing. Sure enough, a brown head was bobbing up and down on the surface. Heart in his throat, he stared at it as Rodriguez sped them over, but his heart sank when he saw it wasn’t Rowan.
They pulled her out, wrapped her up, and Rodriguez set his hands on her shoulders, speaking to her in Spanish. Mal caught the name Rowan, guessed Rodriguez had given a description of her.
Teeth chattering, body shaking uncontrollably, the woman nodded. “S-si,” she answered, and said something else.
Rodriguez looked up at him with sympathetic amber eyes. “She was in there with them.”
Mal swallowed back the rush of tears and looked away, scanning the water. Refusing to give up, but not seeing how she could possibly have survived. Hamilton was on the radio to the other boat. Colebrook’s voice came back loud and clear that they had only found three victims so far, none of them Rowan.
Grief welled up, sharp as a razor blade. Slashing Mal’s heart to pieces. He felt like he was slowly dying inside, bleeding to death from a million cuts. He didn’t know how he would bear this.
Hamilton set a hand on his shoulder.
Mal didn’t bother shaking it off. “I’m gonna find her,” he said roughly. “I’m gonna find her and take care of her.”
“We’re not leaving without her,” Hamilton promised, and stepped back to give him room.
He couldn’t answer, his whole world imploding around him.
Then Khan suddenly shot to his feet and turned toward the stern, as if he’d spotted something. “Freeman, look!”
Mal whipped around, heart pounding, hope a painful pressure under his ribs. He shoved past Hamilton to get a better look as Rodriguez spun the boat around.
And then he saw what Khan had spotted. A lone woman with inky dark hair swimming toward the wreckage of the fallen crane just above the water line. His throat closed up, a raw sound of gratitude that came from the bottom of his soul.
Rowan.
“It’s her,” he grated out, fighting the urge to dive back in the water to get to her. “Go.”
“We’re going,” Rodriguez answered, and opened up the throttle.
Chapter Twenty-Six
The light above her was growing brighter. Brighter.
Rowan was out of air, her lungs on fire, and the surface was so heart-breakingly close but she couldn’t reach it…
Then, just when her limbs were about to give up, just when she couldn’t take it another second and her body was about to take over and suck in a breath of water, her head broke the surface.
She hauled in a ragged, life-saving gasp of air, almost a sob, and kept moving her limbs weakly. Her head swam, the shock hitting her like a truck. Over and over she dragged air into her starving lungs, her body so cold, numb.
I’m alive.
It didn’t seem possible. She couldn’t feel her arms or legs. Could barely move at all. But she was breathing. Somehow she’d made it.
Moving weakly, she searched for the shore. The port was to her left, but it seemed an impossible distance and the current was dragging her farther and farther away from shore every moment.
Her frantic gaze snagged on something in the water not too far away. Something bright red. She swam toward it, her exhausted body threatening to shut down.
When she got close she threw out an arm. Her han
d was too numb to grasp the metal frame of whatever it was. It slipped and fell into the water, as if her arm weighed a ton.
No! She hadn’t survived everything else to quit now.
With a low growl of determination she threw her arm out again, managed to hook her forearm around the metal as the water tried to push her past it. The force pinned her against the metal for a moment. She struggled to hook her legs through it and hung on, shaking so hard it hurt, her body going limp.
Her eyes slid closed. Shock and horror swamped her. Tears burned her eyes. A sob tore loose, shuddered through her. In all her life she’d never felt so small and helpless, so alone.
Come on, Rowan. Fight. You’ve made it this far.
She choked back her tears. She couldn’t think about what had just happened. But when she summoned the strength to raise her head, she wanted to cry again. The shore seemed so far away right now. She had to get off this thing and get to shore, but she was too tired and no one seemed to have noticed her, not even the helicopter circling the port. She’d never make it.
The metal frame she clung to gave an ominous shudder. Rowan stopped breathing, automatically tightened her hold. Whatever it was started to tip sideways.
She cried out in alarm as she began rising, foot by foot, higher and higher out of the water. Oh God, if she slipped and fell from this height, she’d drown. She didn’t have the strength to swim anymore. And if it fell and turned over into the water, it would take her down with it.
Her heart shot into her throat, stayed there as the metal frame jerked to a sudden halt, the metal arm vibrating. She slipped, swallowed a scream and hung on, her exhausted muscles failing bit by bit. She looked down at the freezing water beneath her, knew instinctively that she couldn’t survive it if she fell in.
Over the roar of the blood in her ears, the sound of a loud motor registered. Searching for the source, she spotted a sleek, small black boat approaching her. Men were in it.
