She had a lot of questions about the WPP, OPAQUE, and just what the heck qualified someone to be a protector. Judging from Mitch’s professional attitude, he must have had a lot of experience. A lot of training. A lot of…for all that was holy, was there some kind of degree in college that you went in a wimp, came out a tough, muscled-up expert in explosives, guns, and evasive tactics? If there were, she’d missed that opportunity in class scheduling.
Biting her lip and wishing she didn’t have to do this, she tapped Mitch on the shoulder again.
“Yeah?” He looked backward, and in the glow from the dash screen, he didn’t look at all happy she’d interrupted his train of thought. Or had he been talking to someone on the secure mike pickup?
“I really, really have to go to the bathroom.” She furrowed her brow, hoping he’d get the idea how desperate she was in this situation.
“Are you kidding me?” Never looking away from her face, he stared into her eyes as if she’d seriously told him the world would end in five seconds.
She clenched her bladder with every ounce of muscle she had. Pushed her bottom tight against the seat. “I’m not kidding, I’ve—”
The Q40 whooshed upward when a fish the size of a small whale or a jumbo dolphin jumped out of the water. Losing her hold on the seat strap, she flew through the air screaming and headed headfirst for the water.
Plunging into the dark coldness, her mind shouted this was the end.
She shoved at something velvety brushing past her leg. Opened her eyes. The fish. Right beside her.
What if it was a shark? What if she kept sinking? What if she sank too far to come up?
She kicked. Kicked again. Tried to pull with her arms, her hands. There was no panic this time, just pure survival mode, and she seemed to be losing. She continued to sink. Or, was she headed upward? Which way was up? Which way was—
Suddenly, she realized there wouldn’t be another breath. She’d never tangle the sheets with Mitch. Never feel his lips on hers.
Drake had been right—what if tomorrow didn’t come?
Chapter Seven
Mitch tumbled from the Q40 into the water, diving downward to get a vantage point for where Liz would land. He tapped the button to the mini-light attached to his jacket, and a hundred or so yards in front of him lit up like a movie screen. The sides and back were still dark as hell, but if he felt the outward ripple of water from the point she fell in, he’d be able to gauge her distance. See the bubbles of entry.
As if on cue, the small pod of dolphins blocked his view. He kicked toward the general direction, gently pushing his way through the pod, straining to see around them.
He didn’t have long to find her. Even less time, if she kept sinking once she hit the water.
She’d said she couldn’t swim. What did that mean? A little? Some? None?
Would she even know to watch her bubbles to find which way was up?
The pod separated, and there was Liz. Fighting the water. Losing the battle. The mini-light lit the expression on her face, the fear in her eyes.
Kicking as hard as he could, he propelled himself in her direction. Grabbed her waist and shot them both upward. Breaking the surface of the water, they both sucked in air. Hers filled with coughing and gagging, her arms fighting to climb an invisible ladder out of the water. He grabbed one of her arms then reached out to keep her head above water. She turned onto him, grappling to tighten her hold on his shoulder, pushing him downward.
Wrapping his arms around hers, he leaned her back against him, eased her into a float. “Stop, Liz. Stop fighting me.”
She shook with fear, clawing at his arm. Still gasping for air, her chest heaved with rapid breaths of fear. Shock would start soon. That’s all he needed.
“Shhhhh…,” he whispered against her ear. “I’ve got you, Elizabeth…I’ve got you.” He brushed his lips against her temple, kissed her lightly. “I’ve got you. Shhhhh…”
The more he talked to her, the more he brushed his cheek against the side of her head, the calmer she became. Her breathing steadied, and her fingers rested on his arms instead of digging in for dear life.
“Tell me what to do,” she said, panting with exhaustion.
“You let me worry about that. First I get us to our ride.” He loosened one of his arms from around her and started a side crawl stroke, heading them in the direction of the Q40. “Try to stay calm. Don’t fight me.”
As planned, the Q40 had stopped running the moment she fell off, the moment the lanyard attached to her shirt had pulled the key from the ignition. And OPAQUE’s specially enhanced levelers would have automatically activated, allowing the riders to remount the Q40 from either side or the back.
He could hear the spray from the dolphins in the pod, but they were heading in the other direction. Only a few more strokes till he’d have Liz to safety.
He positioned her near the Q40. “Grab hold of the rail. Once you do, I’m going to let go.”
“I’ll sink.”
“Not if you hold on.” He wrapped her fingers around a hold point then slowly released his hands. “See? Breathe easy. Pedal your legs every so often.”
Gradually, her expression changed from panic to acceptance, and finally a tiny smile tugged at the corners of her mouth. “I’m okay.”
“Try to keep doing what you’re doing.”
She nodded. “Can we get back on the Q40?”
“Soon. When you get out of the water, you’re going to be cold. Especially once we get going again. So, we’ve got to get you out of your shoes. And your shorts.”
Her eyes rounded. “No way.”
He’d used the same technique on other assignments. And right now his goal was to keep her warm any way possible. “Look, wet shoes are another base for extra cold to creep into your body. And the shorts will be like an extra layer of wet cold against your groin, which is one of the areas you want to keep warm for body heat. Understand?”
She slowly nodded. “What about my top?”
“Once you’re out of the water, you’ll take that off. Don’t worry, you’ll still have your bikini on. That’s when I’ll wrap you in a solar vest from my emergency compartment.” Time was wasting, but he knew she’d fight him all the way if he didn’t explain.
Huffing out a loud breath, she shook her head. “I don’t think I can let go enough to take them off.”
“Got it.” He slid beneath the waterline, tugging her shorts downward as he went. They caught on her shoes, so he pulled to get them off also. She’d double-tied them…tight… He pulled hard from her heel and one slipped loose, and accidently his finger slid across her arch.
She jerked her foot back then kicked him in the head. Hard. Painful. And, again.
He popped to the surface, raking his palm down his face. “Don’t kick me, lady.”
“Don’t tickle my foot.”
“I didn’t.”
“You did.”
Exasperated, he dipped downward again and removed the other shoe, along with her shorts. Then, he swam back up and hoisted himself onto the Q40. He pulled her out of the water, stood her on the foot platforms facing him, and had the solar blanket vest out of the compartment by the time she had her T-shirt off.
Shivering, she shoved her arms through the armholes. He realized the vest was meant for one of the men—the Q40 hadn’t been packed for a rescue, it had been packed for a protector. A man with broad shoulders and muscles and around six feet tall. At maybe five-five and a hundred thirty pounds, she was lost in the vest. Without the snugness against her body, the heat would rapidly escape. The Gulf of Mexico wasn’t freezing, but it was cooler than people thought. Especially once you were wet and got out into the night air. Even worse with the ride they still had to make.
Her shivers intensified.
With both of them still standing, he took off his Neoprene top and shoved it into the Q40 side compartment. Quickly, he removed the solar vest from Liz and slid it on himself. She looked like a lost waif, watching him for a sig
n—any sign—of what he would do to help her. In that moment, something in the way she looked told him he’d do whatever it took to keep her alive.
Anything.
He pulled her against his chest, and she leaned in to his warmth, her hands clutching at his sides to get even closer. He wrapped the vest around them both, clicked the buckle in place, and tightened the belt. He pulled her closer, cupping her body nearer, laying his cheek against her hair.
She was his to save, and he would.
For the next few minutes they stood there, arms wrapped around each other, waiting. Waiting for her to stop shivering.
Finally she looked up at him. “I’m warm. Thank you.”
He stroked the side of his finger down her cheek. There was no way he could tell her how warm she felt to him. No reason to tell her. He was the protector. She was the client.
“Good. We need to get going.” He sat down, awkwardly pulling her with him. “Did you at least go to the bathroom when you fell in the water?”
“Must have, because I don’t need to go now.”
Her knees bumped his knees, their legs tangling with who should be where. Didn’t take long for him to realize he couldn’t get a good grip on the handles or see the dash screen or sit in this position for more than a short time.
“Why can’t I get on the back again?” she asked.
“No. The only way this will work is for both of us to face each other in this solar vest. So…um…” God help him, this was going to be tough. “Stand back up.”
Together they stood. He cupped her bottom. Pulled her legs up around him. Then sat back down. He tugged her even closer, draping her legs over the top of his thighs. Their bodies were so close there was no way her groin would lose any heat.
He blew out a deep sigh, relieved he could now grip the throttle. Monitor the dash screen. Ride for hours. Unless his body killed him somewhere along the way.
She looked up. “Alrighty then.”
“Yeah.” He shook his head, grinned. “Sorry about this.”
“I lost the earbud piece.”
“Don’t worry about it. That’s the least of our worries.”
Slipping her fingers out of the vest then up to his jawline, she smiled. “Just in case I fall off again, I don’t plan to die without a proper thank you.”
She covered his lips with her own, tender and gentle. Then covered fuller, more open, pulsing her kiss with need. As she pulled away, her teeth scraped his bottom lip.
His insides tightened, but he controlled his urge. Damn-it-to-hell, this woman was going to be the death of him.
“Alrighty then,” she whispered to herself.
“That was a crazy thing to do, Liz.”
“Yeah, but you know what Drake used to say”—she brushed her fingertips across Mitch’s lower lip—”enjoy life while you can. What if tomorrow never comes?”
His body stirred again. Fast and hard as hell.
She glanced up at him. “Going to be a long painful trip at this rate.”
“No kidding!”
What was it about this woman? What kind of chemistry was his body picking up from her? Craving?
“I don’t want you to think I’m usually that forward.” She snuggled against him beneath the solar vest. “But…I’m really kind of worried right now.”
“Don’t worry about tomorrow. I’ll make sure we’re still breathing when the sun comes up.” But she was right about the pain, and there was only one way to stop his hunger. Besides, she’d kissed him first. “But just in case…”
He clutched the back of her head, twisting his fingers through her hair, and tilted her face toward his, lowering his mouth. Her lips parted, and she let him in. He went slow…gentle. Then, like a man gasping for oxygen, he wrapped his arms around her and deepened the kiss. He couldn’t seem to get enough of her. She tasted so good. Good he didn’t deserve. Good he couldn’t have.
He regained control and pulled his mouth away then clicked the Q40’s throttle into high gear. The Q40 jolted forward, faster and faster and faster.
He’d just made one giant size mistake. One he hadn’t made before. One he wouldn’t make again.
Still, what was it about her? What?
Chapter Eight
For the past couple of hours, Mitch had steered the Q40 northwest across the Gulf of Mexico, focused on not becoming mesmerized by the tunnel vision aspect. Even in the dark, he had to continually keep his eyes moving and his reflexes alert. Of course, Liz’s tiny movements against his chest every so often had more than kept him alert.
Her tucked against him had felt natural. Like she’d been part of him forever.
He’d told her to get some rest. Evidently, she trusted him enough to do just that. The few times he’d stretched his legs or shifted on the seat had disturbed her enough to elicit soft moans of annoyance as she moved in return. Hopefully that would be enough to keep her blood flowing and nerves active, instead of cramping her movements by staying in one position too long.
Each time she’d settled back against him, she felt warm and inviting. Sure, he’d woken up next to a lot of women in his lifetime, even let himself care for one once. Their life together had lasted six months before she gave him an ultimatum—her or OPAQUE. She couldn’t take the hours, the danger, the unknown. He’d thrown his toothbrush in a bag, wished her well, walked out the door, and never looked back.
Swerving to avoid another small pod of dolphins, or whatever else lurked beneath the surface, was just what he needed to push himself back into assignment mode. An occasional spray of water droplets provided enough cooling to keep him awake. Thankfully, the Q40 had cruise control.
He replayed their escape from Captiva. One move at a time. Was there anything he could have done different? Anything?
The sound of gunshots from the beach house, coupled with the explosion on the horizon, meant a well-planned attack had been underway from Coercion Ten. How? How had they zeroed in on the Captiva safe house so quick? How had they even known about the place? Hopefully, his team had been able to hold them off until the FBI arrived. The sirens meant local police had been involved, also.
He focused on the Q40’s dash screen. Nothing there but the dull green glow; not even the wave symbol appeared in the upper corner. OPAQUE had to be tracking them, keeping the info encrypted so others on the water couldn’t decipher any messages they might intercept. His last message had stated Drake was still in charge of the overall case. Reese Trenton had been added to Mitch’s team.
Tired didn’t begin to explain the ache in Mitch’s muscles. OPAQUE would have counted on him holing up somewhere, which would give them time to get in place for a rendezvous. But by now there should be some contact. If he didn’t hear anything in the next few hours, he’d make his own plans.
He dragged his foot in the water, deliberately spraying the wave against his body once again. Liz was tucked against his chest and sleeping, covered beneath the solar vest. She’d stay dry. He’d stay awake.
Keeping his mind moving, he went through everything that had happened since he walked into the Mariner’s bar back in Fort Myers. Trying to find minute details that might hint at why Coercion Ten had Liz and her father in their crosshairs. He searched for any clue somebody had said in passing. Anything Liz had told him. Nothing.
Leaving his team behind had been hard. But escape had been the only way to keep her alive.
After leaving home at sixteen, he hated abandoning anyone. But life, Drake, and assignments had had a way of drilling other undeniable facts into his thinking. What bothered him most was that this was the first time he’d had to leave his team behind when he was the leader.
Usually, he stayed. He covered everyone’s rear. He fought to find a way out after everyone else was safe.
The idea that sometimes the only way to save others was to leave tasted bitter on his tongue. He hadn’t liked hearing his team battle the enemy as he fled. Still, he’d done what had to be done.
Briefly, he laid his che
ek against the top of her head. Her hair tickled against him in the breeze. He jerked his head and emotions back, focusing instead on the dash screen’s sonar images. Nothing mattered right now but staying alive. And, staying out of Coercion Ten’s reaches.
Surely, Drake and the rest of the OPAQUE group had zeroed in on what was going on. Following the trail backward sometimes yielded results, but at the moment, there wasn’t much trail to even speculate.
However, one possibility gnawed at his what-if mind. What if this case wasn’t actually about Liz and her dad? What if the true target had been—
The sonar screen flashed from green to blue. The words “hot meal straight ahead” scrolled across the bottom of the screen a couple of times, then the blue background changed to green.
He breathed a sigh of relief—the cavalry had arrived. Finally.
Right on cue, the wave in the right-hand corner appeared, and he tapped the screen in response.
“Liz.” He gently nudged her arm, hoping to wake her up without putting her into panic mode. “Liz…wake up.”
She stretched her neck sideways, sighing as the palms of her hands brushed across his chest. She stopped. Eyes wide open, she gasped and started to push at him, wrestling to get out of the solar vest, clawing at his chest with a force to make an enemy shove her aside.
He wasn’t her enemy, but at the moment he felt like chucking her in the water. She’d pinched the skin beneath his arm with one hand. Latched onto his chest with the other, scraping her fingernails across his abs, into his side.
Damn-it-to-hell, that hurt. He jabbed his elbow against her hand. “Hey. Leave a little skin.”
“Sorry.” She eased her vise grip clench on his sides.
“That’s okay.” If he ever had to wake her up in the future, he planned to be a lot farther away than face-to-face, body to body. Maybe…or maybe not.
“I thought I was falling in the water again.”
“Not likely. I’ve had a hold on you for the past couple hours.” Rubbing his elbow against his side, he grunted.
“Did I hurt you?” she asked.
“No. Takes a lot more than that to hurt me.” Although, come to think of it, she’d fought with more tenacity than some men he’d met in hand-to-hand combat.
Dangerous Lies (Shades of Leverage) Page 7
