by Jayne Rylon
In his mind, he apologized to Waverly for giving up. I’m sorry. We tried our best. Hang on. Please, don’t you quit, too.
Twenty-Four
“It’s okay. I’ve got this.” Waverly hoped her bravado eased the agony Archer was likely suffering while listening in on this conversation.
If she was going to have any hope of surviving this, shit was about to get even more fucked up than it already was. Before giving Ted too much time to consider what she might be up to, she lashed out with her right hand, grabbing for the gun.
BANG!
Waverly had never been shot before.
It hurt like a motherfucker.
Nothing like in the movies. Adrenaline didn’t do shit to numb the blinding pain. Fortunately, it appeared that the bullet had hit her upper left arm. She didn’t need that to clobber Ted, who seemed stunned by the reverberations of the deafening blast in such a small space.
More good news, she wasn’t dead.
Waverly lashed out, fueled by pure rage and indignation. She punched him where it would hurt most—in the stab wound he’d given himself. Judging by the amount of blood on the bandage, he might have done a better job of that than he’d intended.
Which might have been why he didn’t react fast enough to stop her.
With an oomph, he dropped the gun.
Waverly didn’t pause to think about what she was doing. Survival instincts and her military training kicked in. She snatched the gun, put her finger on the trigger, pointed it straight between Ted’s eyes, and squeezed. Twice.
To be honest, she didn’t even feel bad about his brains splattered on the window.
If it was her or him, she knew which one she would pick. All day long.
Unfortunately, the gunshots had damaged more than her flesh.
When she tried to radio the Divemaster to let Archer know she was okay and about to come home, the damn thing wouldn’t work. In the next few seconds, instruments started going dark. Fuck. One of their bullets, or maybe bits of all three, had clipped some important shit.
If it wasn’t for the storm, which seemed to have intensified, she might have tried to find her way to the Divemaster without some of those tools. Over open ocean, with nowhere to put down quickly, and—oh, yeah—blood slicking her arm, there was no way she was risking it.
Waverly groaned as the pain intensified. She scrunched her eyes closed a few times, trying to see better. In range, a blip of an island with a wide, flat beach beckoned her. It was going to have to do.
It was her worst landing ever.
Later, she couldn’t even recall most of it. Though she wasn’t really a religious person, she might have believed she had a guardian angel helping out.
But when she turned off the engine, she was down in mostly one piece.
For a while she just sat there and stared. Thanked every power in the universe for helping her save herself. Then she prepared to rough it for a while. No one was going to be able to reach her tonight.
She debated sleeping in the helicopter, but it was pretty exposed on the beach and if it toppled, or sank into the sand as the tides changed, she could be trapped and drown. Given the state of her arm, she couldn’t wrestle Ted’s body out anyway. The thought of sharing the space with him all night long…
So much nope. Not happening.
Waverly tried to get the radio going one more time without success. So she grabbed the first aid kit and her backpack, then jumped out of the pilot’s seat.
She trudged up the beach far enough to huddle at the base of a thick copse of trees. First she treated herself as best she could, using strips of bandages and thick gauze pads—thank you, Ted—to put pressure on her wound without going full-on tourniquet. Her military days had made her aware that she could do permanent damage if she left one of those on for longer than two hours, and it was going to be several times that before help arrived.
They couldn’t reach her, never mind find her, in these conditions.
She didn’t think her arm was bleeding enough to be life-threatening. Then again, if she passed out and couldn’t make a tourniquet once it turned for the worse, saving her arm wouldn’t really matter, now would it?
Hard decisions.
After she’d patched it up as best she could and applied the most pressure she felt comfortable with leaving on long-term, she took the Mylar thermal survival blanket out of the first aid kit and wrapped it around herself. A fire was out of the question given the rain and wind, but it wasn’t particularly cold out. This would do.
Comfortable? Not especially.
Survivable? Hell yes.
To keep herself from throwing a pity party, she used her teeth to tear open a pack of dried fruit then chugged an entire bottle of water, hoping her body got busy replacing some of her lost blood pretty damn quick.
She estimated she’d been out there less than an hour when she wondered how she would survive an entire night without going bonkers.
Waverly used her good arm to collect the fallen palm fronds she could reach without jostling her injury too much and began to stack them up. She wasn’t cold, but it made her feel more secure to have some barrier, however flimsy, between herself and the storm.
When she’d run out of resources, she rested up against the tree trunk that formed one support for her lean-to shelter and wondered how she’d pass the rest of the time. Maybe she could write Archer love letters in the sand. Or draw pictures of positions she wanted to try fucking in once she had healed.
Before she could, a light glinted in her eyes.
Something painfully bright after the deep midnight she had gotten used to.
It was only there for a second, then gone.
Then it came back. And stuck.
Could it be a searchlight?
Holy shit!
Waverly stood up, using the Mylar around her as a reflector. She ran toward the surf then, making it about halfway before a familiar gray rigid hull inflatable boat beached itself on the sand with a landing nearly as poor as hers had been in the helicopter.
She gave it a four out of ten, at best. It was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen.
Until Archer came flying over the side, tearing up the beach toward her.
Then that was the most wonderful thing she’d ever seen.
She supposed they could have cried, flung themselves at each other, or any other number of things. Instead, they stood there, about a foot apart, wind whipping their clothes and hair, grinning like fools.
“Imagine meeting you here,” Archer said before his face darkened. “Ted?”
She shook her head. “Dead.”
Then he closed the gap between them and crushed her to him.
“I’ve never been so relieved in my entire life to see someone,” he said. “It might be best if I never let you go again.”
She was good with that, too. Except just then his arm knocked into hers, right over her bullet wound.
Waverly cried out, wishing she could take it back when worry rushed back to his face. “Arm. Ouchy.”
She tried to smile as she winced, probably looking totally weird.
“Is it broken?” he asked. In the meantime, he checked out the helicopter. It perched on the beach, a little wonky, but obviously not crashed.
She knew he was estimating the likelihood she had internal injuries. “No. Shot.”
“What?” he yelled.
“Shot.”
“And you’re just now mentioning it?” He tore the thermal blanket off her as if he was making sure she didn’t have any other new holes. “Jesus, woman.”
There was more blood there than she’d realized. Yikes.
Miguel and Tosin hauled the boat toward them, out of reach of the waves and wind. Exhausted, and stumbling, they began to set it down, even as they told her over and over how glad they were to see her. Tosin used his shoulder and upper arm to wipe moisture from his face. Probably just spray from the ocean. That had to have been an uncomfortable ride.
&nbs
p; “I have a camp started over there.” She pointed with her good arm, so they angled toward her spot. Archer wasn’t having any of that. He plucked her from the beach and carried her. Resting her head on his shoulder, she admitted to herself that she was grateful for the lift.
As they neared the tree line and the wind and rain subsided, she shouted over the crashing waves, “I can’t believe you got in that thing with the ocean looking like that! Are you fucking crazy?”
“Well, I had something to say to you that couldn’t wait until morning.”
“What’s that?” She blinked up at him.
“I love you, too, Waverly.”
And that was the thing that broke her. Tears rolled down her cheeks as he set her on the ground between his best friends. He kissed her with the barest brushes of his lips while Miguel and Tosin propped the boat up on its side, using the wind itself to hold it in place, making a very effective wall against the storm.
With that done, Miguel started pulling things from inside it.
He combined their first aid kits, taking a needle and thread, some topical anesthetic, and a packet of antibiotics from inside. Tosin handed Archer the waterproof radio. “Why don’t you do the honors?”
The four of them huddled around the communications device.
“Banks!” Archer shouted.
“Archie! Are you okay?” he asked.
“Yes. We’ve got her. Waverly’s here. She’s alive! We’ve got her!” He beamed at her as if he couldn’t believe how lucky they’d gotten.
A riot of claps, whistles, and cheers came over the radio, making Waverly shed a few more fat tears before dashing them away with the back of her hand. To know that she’d gone from being absolutely alone in the world to having this incredible group of people who loved her…
It was everything.
With these guys, she wasn’t afraid to let her feelings loose either. They wouldn’t judge her or take advantage of her temporary weakness.
Tosin piped up then, his sandy hair looking crazier than she’d ever seen it. “No, she’s not just alive. She’s sitting here under a palm frond shelter living it up while we all worried about her. Might as well have happened upon her sipping a piña colada.”
“Is she wounded?” Captain Alex asked.
“Yup,” Miguel confirmed. “Took a bullet to the arm. No biggie, according to her. Honestly, it does look like a flesh wound. We’re about to see if I can stitch it up without passing out.”
It was crazy how a few near death experiences made these things seem inconsequential. Except… “Guys. Someone else is shot, and this time I did do it. I killed Ted.”
“You protected yourself,” Archer corrected her.
Nobody contradicted him.
She sighed.
“We’ll be there as soon as we can get the ship closer or dispatch another helicopter from somewhere,” Captain Alex assured them. “The worst of the storm should be past now. Will you be okay until morning?”
“Absolutely,” Waverly answered.
“As long as I have her, I’m good.” Archer didn’t care if it made him sound like a pussy. It was true.
Twenty-Five
Waverly stood at the rail of the main deck of the Divemaster as Captain Alex and the harbor pilot navigated them safely out of Kralendijk. They’d dropped off the guests, who would take the Banks Foundation’s private jets back to their regularly scheduled lives. Despite the events of the past few days, the passengers had assured them the initial run of the program had been a success.
Part of her was still raw, and probably would be for a while. Her new family here onboard the ship was doing their best to help her forget and move forward. In time, she would.
“I really do love this place,” Archer sighed from beside her as he said goodbye to the island that had been his home for a little while.
“At least this time goodbye doesn’t have to be forever.” Miguel put his hand on Archer’s shoulder and squeezed. “We can always come back.”
Waverly thought about how she’d returned to Archer and couldn’t agree more.
Banks nodded at the guys from where he stood on Waverly’s other side. “If there are any special requests, just let me know and I’ll adjust the schedule.”
“Where are we heading next, anyway?” Tosin wondered. It didn’t matter much to them so long as they were together and doing what they loved.
“Eventually, we’ll sail to the Panama Canal and out to the Pacific for a while. The season is right over there for great diving,” Banks said. “But first we’re going to take a detour up to the US Virgin Islands, where the planes will meet us with our next round of passengers in a week or so. It’ll be a nice break for the crew. I think everyone could use a few days off.”
They all seconded that.
“Am I the only one who’s never been before? I’ve heard it’s beautiful.” Waverly smiled at Archer, excited to investigate a new place with him. Hopefully one that didn’t involve almost getting killed. But did involve lots and lots more of the mind-blowing sex they’d been having since he’d introduced her to the clubroom. Or underwater sex. Or ultra-romantic sex.
Or just plain sex in general.
He’d officially turned her into a sex fiend.
“It is,” Archer assured her. “Sorry, though, I need you to do some boring business stuff with me when we get there. After that’s done, I’ll take you on a sightseeing tour if you want before we have to start the next trip.”
“What kind of business stuff?” Something about the way he’d said it tipped her off.
Banks encouraged Archer to continue when he paused. “Go ahead, tell her.”
“As partners in the Banks Foundation’s Divemaster Project, we’ve agreed. You deserve a reward for how you handled the situation last week. So Banks helped me buy a new helicopter. An upgrade. A six-seater Eurocopter EC 155.”
“Oh my God.” Waverly thought that might be better than sex. “I’ve always wanted to fly one of those.”
Archer spilled the beans. “We’re picking her up at the Henry E. Rohlsen Airport on St. Croix. And…she’s yours.”
“What?” Waverly might have jerked away if he hadn’t had his arms around her.
“You’re free.” He smiled softly. “To be honest, from the beginning it didn’t sit right that you were tethered here, to me, by the thing that allows you to do what you love most. If you stay—and God, I hope you will—I want it to be because this is where you belong. Where you choose to be.”
“I…” She couldn’t believe what he was saying, or that he might think she felt obligated to remain in his presence. A helicopter, especially one like that, was a ridiculous thing to just give someone. With the chopper itself, she could open a charter business, using the income to cover the operating costs and still make a healthy living. “I don’t have anything to give you that could compare to that. Except—”
“I don’t need anything in return.” He stole a quick kiss, trying to shush her attempts at fairness. “Your happiness is all I ask for.”
“What if I want to give you my heart?” Waverly swallowed hard but continued. There was no going back now. “Hell, Archer. You’ve had it all along. I hope that’s enough.”
“It’s everything,” he whispered, his hand trembling where it rested on her neck. “I love you, Waverly.”
“I love you, too.” It felt so good to say it out loud. She had nearly worn out the words since he’d appeared on that beach to save her ass. She intended to keep being obnoxious about it, too.
“So you’ll stay? Let us hire you as an independent contractor. Will you keep traveling the world and hanging out with these crazy shitheads, too?” He waved at his friends and Banks, who were grinning like fools.
“Hell yes!” she shrieked as she flung herself into his arms.
They kissed and kissed while the divemasters cheered them on, until Banks cleared his throat.
“Oh. Hi, Banks. Are you still here? Sorry.” Waverly blinked as she returned
to reality, hopefully only for as long as it would take Archer to lug her off to their cabin.
“There’s one other thing I need you four to do while we’re there. The lawyer has contracts for another arm of the Banks Foundation that’s been recently established. It will be responsible for the salvage and protection of artifacts from shipwrecks. The organization’s first order of business is to retrieve the treasure you discovered. So it’s only fitting that you be joint owners of the venture. Early estimates based on the data we sent in say this wreck alone could be worth eight hundred million dollars, give or take. I’d recommend refinancing the next excursion with the profits then splitting the rest between you equally. There will be plenty to go around. Operating expenses for a chopper can be astronomical.”
Waverly knew the kind older man was looking out for her, more than her blood relatives ever had. He loved Archer like his own son. And since it seemed that Archie was really into her, she had no doubt Banks was finding ways to make her feel like an equal in his company.
An asset instead of a freeloader.
The last of her anxieties eased. She would be forever grateful.
“Thank you,” she murmured, then squirmed from Archer’s hold to kiss Banks on the cheek.
“You are so very welcome.” He hugged her then. Maybe it was possible that after all this time they had managed to shake off the lingering effects of their shady beginnings, and triumph.
Every bit of good the Banks Foundation wrought blasted shadows from the world one by one. She was proud and thrilled to be part of bringing sunshine to people living in the darkness any way possible, seeing as she’d once been a night dweller herself.
Waverly couldn’t wait to see where life would take them next, or in ten years. The only thing she knew for sure was that wherever it might be, Archer would be with her.
“I love you,” he whispered again while he hugged her tight, as if she might forget.
Sailing off into the sunset with him was as magnificent as she’d always dreamed it would be.
