Not wasting any time, she charged into the building and skirted the walls, hoping not to attract the attention of the people milling about. Too much chaos would scare the animal and make things worse. She entered the code that the aquarium had given her to the employees-only door because of her frequent research and medical visits. Once outside, she unlocked the suspension mechanism holding the boat up in the air. Footsteps thudded on the wood planks behind her. Glancing over her shoulder, she sighed with relief upon seeing her father. “Dad. Thank God. Someone’s in the water. Can you lower the boat while I run down the ramp?”
“Of course. But surely one of the security staff should handle this?”
“I think there’s a stranded orca or a porpoise in the water too. They wouldn’t know what to do.”
“I don’t like this, Claire.”
Neither did she. What if the man was trying to kill the animal? What if he had a gun or a knife? “Help me get the boat down. Once we figure out what’s going on, we’ll call the police, if necessary. Okay?”
His lips tightened, but he stepped closer and took over lowering the boat. Hurrying, she retraced her steps and snuck through the crowd back out to the deck. When she got to the end of the access ramp, her father had almost completely lowered the boat. She untied it, then hopped inside and tried to get her bearings.
About twenty yards out, she saw white foam, indicating something was moving through the water. The animal had drifted away from the aquarium wall. She could see a dark outline where the tail would be, but she couldn’t see anything else. No body, no fins. Wrapping her fingers around the oars, she rowed as quickly as she could. Every few yards, she glanced over her shoulder to keep tabs on the man or animal she was pursuing. After a couple minutes, she frowned. Instead of getting closer, she was getting farther away. Redoubling her efforts, she put all her strength into rowing faster. It was moving too quickly. Whatever it was had to be caught in a current.
The oars cut through the water, making small splashes. When her arms grew tired, she raised her head and saw that the aquarium was a tiny square along the pier. Setting the oars down, she turned and cupped her eyes to shade them from the sun’s glare. Something wasn’t right. There wasn’t enough current to drag a person or a stranded animal this far out, this fast, especially from so close to the pier where the water was almost too still.
She called out. “Hello?”
No reply and no more splashes. None of this made any sense. Was she chasing a man or an animal? She looked back toward the aquarium. Had she chased after a hallucination while a person had drowned within feet of where she’d been? Digging out her phone from a small pocket on the side of her dress, she called her father. “Dad? I think I’ve lost whatever it was, if it ever was anything.”
“There definitely was something down there.”
Her free hand gripped the boat’s gunwale. “What did you see?”
“Bubbles, a SCUBA diver.”
She frowned. “Did he seem in distress?”
“No. He popped his head up, looked around, then went back under. The bubbles trailed off toward the Bell Street Marina.”
“Okay, I guess I was on a goose chase. I’m heading back.”
Beneath her, the boat started to vibrate. The water level seemed to drop before a huge swell lifted her up. She screamed.
“Claire! Claire, what’s wrong? Talk to me.” She heard her father’s voice moments before the boat flipped over, tossing her into the ferocious water like nothing more than a rag doll. Her muscles seized as she plunged into the icy depths.
What just happened? Confused and disoriented, she tried to swim to the surface. She rose on a wave and barely had time to catch her breath before another crashed over her head, bringing with it the capsized rowboat. Fighting and kicking against the turbulence that pushed and pulled her in all directions, she struggled to get out from under the submerged boat. The weight of it as it filled with water sank them deeper and deeper. Burning with the need for air, she had to lock her jaw against the urge to open and inhale. She cupped her hands over her ears to lessen the growing pressure, to no avail. With every foot farther from the surface, the water darkened. It surrounded her, consumed her.
She was drowning.
Her body numb from the cold, all she could think about were lost chances. Never seeing Wyatt’s face again. Never having the chance to get to know him. Never knowing how good they could have been together.
Oh, God! Oh, God! Don’t panic.
She shrugged off the waterproof pants she still wore. The excess bulk was weighing her down and making it difficult for her to maneuver. She didn’t remember losing the rubber boots.
All she had to do was work herself out from under the boat and swim to the surface. Simple. Except that her lungs were about to explode and she was caught in the drag of the sinking wreckage. She dug her frozen fingers between the cracks in the boat’s hull, ignoring the splinters tearing into her flesh. If she couldn’t get out from under it, maybe she could get through it… But even though she tugged with all her might, she couldn’t pry off a piece. The water provided too much resistance for her oxygen-deprived muscles. She was growing weaker with every passing second.
Time was running out.
Every cell in her body ached for air. Her head throbbed, and her chest felt like a manatee was sitting on it. Just when she thought she couldn’t hang on any longer, she remembered something from all the swimming lessons she’d taken as a child. Sometimes air remained trapped under an overturned boat. Maybe—if she was really lucky—there’d be a small pocket of air for her to breathe.
She worked her way toward the least damaged end of the boat and pulled herself up further under it. It was too dark to see much of anything and all she could hear was the eerie rush of blood in her ears. Desperately, she felt around with her fingers, looking for an edge, a corner, anywhere air could get trapped. Hope filled her when her fingers found the middle seam of the boat’s hull. If there were any pockets, this is where they’d be. She pressed her lips against the seam and slowly moved along it, until—yes!—she felt a change in temperature.
Please let me be right. Her life literally depended on it.
Carefully, she opened her mouth, and when she was certain this hadn’t been a trick of her mind, she inhaled deeply. Blessed oxygen replenished her screaming lungs.
A sharp pull on her foot yanked her down, tearing her away from what little hope she had of surviving until help came for her. Pinwheeling her arms, she tried in vain to grab hold of the boat, to pull it down, to bring that little pocket of oxygen with her. It took all her resolve not to scream. An instant death sentence.
Her only chance for survival was to stay calm. If she panicked, she’d drown.
She slid her hand down her leg to her ankle, hoping she’d find only a piece of seaweed. No such luck. A rope was wrapped around her foot. Was it loose? Something tied to the boat? She yanked her foot and the rope cinched tighter.
Oh God. She was stuck. Frantically, she twisted her foot every which way, but couldn’t free it. The rope chafed and cut, the salt in the water making the wounds burn. Her lungs couldn’t take much more. Neither could her mind.
She was so tired. If she could just rest a little…
Images of her father and Wyatt flashed before her eyes. She couldn’t give up. She forced herself to think, to search the dim world around her and evaluate her situation. When her gaze landed on the abandoned drydock beneath her, her chest squeezed painfully and any vestige of hope she had seeped away. Several dozen nets, which workers had used to raise boats out of the water, hung off the wreckage of the drydock. In this killing zone were trapped hundreds of dead or dying fish and birds, even some seals.
And now one human woman.
Chapter 3
Despite his depleted air reserves, Wyatt sprinted away from where he’d dropped the bomb, a couple miles out and some six hundred feet deep. The tail end of the pressure wave caught him in the back, sending him reeli
ng through the tumultuous water. Never before had he been so happy to be wearing his MK X wetsuit. Without it, he might have ended up a mess of sailor soup.
Wyatt straightened out and did a quick visual survey of his body and wetsuit. Other than the ringing in his ears and the dull ache in his jaw and teeth, he was fine. Except that he’d gone much longer without breathing than he’d intended, and his lungs were starting to feel the pressure. With a thrust of his tail, he headed toward the surface, when out of the corner of his eye, he spotted a capsized boat.
And it was sinking fast. Damn. He’d done his best to drop the explosive device away from any ships or wildlife, but he’d apparently missed the small rowboat. Changing direction, he dove down to search for passengers. His stomach roiled when he saw the derelict drydock with its tangle of abandoned nets, overflowing with trapped salmon, lingcod, seals, and—
Fuck! A woman was floating in the water, her leg snared in a net. Her blonde hair fanned out around her face, blocking it from his view. She was barefoot and wearing a dark-colored cocktail dress. What in God’s name would someone be doing out on the water dressed like that? He hurried to her while scanning the area, looking for other victims of the blast. So far, he didn’t see any.
When he reached the woman, he brushed the long strands of hair off her face to see if she was alive. His lungs seized and his heart shuddered to a halt.
Claire. It was Claire. Oh God.
He put his fingers against her neck to test for a pulse. It was there but faint and sluggish. He had to get her out of the water. Putting aside his questions, he sealed his lips to hers and blew precious air into her mouth. Her eyes popped open, fear and confusion making them darker than he’d ever seen them. She struggled against him. He released her lips, but kept his hand against them to prevent her from opening her mouth and losing the air he’d given her.
Tilting her head back, she looked him up and down, then her gaze locked onto his face. He knew the exact moment she recognized him. Shock and hope warred for control of her features.
When he smiled, her body relaxed and she sagged against him. He wrapped his arms around her. He’d never again regret taking part in the MK X program. Without it, he wouldn’t have the abilities necessary to save her. Claire would be dead. Drowned at the bottom of Elliott Bay.
He joined their lips, and again, transferred a small amount of air into her mouth. The act was intimate, like nothing he’d ever experienced. His hand slid down her leg to test the rope wound around her ankle. It was wrapped too tightly to just wiggle her foot out of it. He’d have to cut her out, and he’d have to be quick. His air wouldn’t last them forever. Already he was finding it hard to resist the urge to surface, to fill his lungs with oxygen-rich air. But judging by her blue-tinged lips, Claire had it much worse.
He gave her another sip of air, then with his hands, he pantomimed cutting the rope. When she nodded, he walked his hands down her sides, not daring to let go of her even for a couple seconds. He slipped the KA-BAR out of the holster on his thigh and began to cut through the thick net.
Claire had obviously fought for freedom. The ropes had tightened and dug into the tender flesh of her ankle. He flinched when the knife nicked her skin and turned the surrounding water a dusky pink. But Claire didn’t even react. That, more than anything else, terrified him.
After slicing through the last of the industrial-strength cords, he rose up so they were face to face. Her features were blank, her eyes round and dazed. Shocky. He wished he could surface, but the explosion had to have attracted the attention of the police and the media. Besides, there was some risk of decompression sickness if they ascended too fast.
His best bet was to slowly ascend as he took her back to the aquarium, where she could get medical help. Taking her gently in his arms, he cocooned her against his chest, fused their mouths together, and fed her small sips of air as he arrowed through the bay.
Claire held onto Wyatt Black for dear life and struggled not to hog all his air. He needed it too, didn’t he? Why wasn’t he using the regulator? She felt around for it, but there was nothing. Did he not have any breathing equipment? Her hands inched up his back, searching for a SCUBA tank. He had to have one. They’d both been surviving off his air for what felt like a lifetime. There was an odd protrusion over his lower back, but it certainly wasn’t an air tank.
When she couldn’t find any device that might explain his unnatural ability to hold his breath, a tingle of real uncertainty shot up her spine. Her fingers also took in the odd texture of his wetsuit. The skin-tight neoprene felt rubbery as it should, but it seemed composed of small raised sections, almost like scales.
She opened her eyes, wincing at the burn from the salt water. It was dark, and everything was blurry. She tried to get a look at his suit, to search for a tank, but whenever she wasn’t looking at his face, he seemed to disappear, to become one with the marine environment.
Her lungs heaved, panic making her hyperventilate. Wyatt stroked her hair, concern in his features, and she tamped down her fear. She had to trust that he could do this, that he could save them. That he could save her.
But how was he breathing? How could any of this be real? Her mind raced with a million possibilities, each one darker than the last: she was dreaming, she was in a coma, she was already dead. She shoved each one aside. Wyatt’s strong body felt much too real, with her breasts crushed against his hard chest and her mouth captured by his soft lips.
And if she had drowned, what did that say about her repressed feelings that the only thing, the only person, she thought about was Wyatt? She couldn’t believe he was here. That he’d come to save her. Her hero.
The fierce drag of the water on her dress indicated how fast Wyatt was swimming. Too fast. Inhumanly fast. Were they being towed in by a boat? She immediately rejected that idea. Panic welled in her chest again. This couldn’t be happening. She’d lost her mind. She was dead, and now Kirby would die as well.
As though sensing her agitation, Wyatt breathed into her mouth and licked the inside of her lips with his tongue. His sure hands rubbing circles on her back did nothing to calm the surge of emotions swirling through her body.
Wyatt’s kisses, his touches, were something she often dreamed about. She’d never forget the day they’d first met. He’d been so young and virile. So incredibly gorgeous with all that wet skin glowing in the sun. He’d smiled and made no bones about her knowing how much she attracted him. She’d fallen for him hard, fallen for his sweet ways, his gentle manner with the dolphins. Then he’d left without a word and she’d been alone again. Devastated by his absence. Devastated by his silence.
Had she been wrong to turn him away when he’d returned? She’d tried to date after Wyatt, but no man had measured up. No man had made her feel the way he did with a simple wink, a whisper. A touch of his fingers on her cheek.
For eighteen months she’d been resisting all his efforts to see her again. But no more. Life was too short to waste. Even if she only got to see him once in a while, it would be better than never seeing him. Never holding him. She tightened her arms around his back, relishing the sensation of his muscles rippling beneath her fingers. Wanting more, she slid her tongue against his and smiled when his hips pressed against hers. Hard and ready. How she’d missed this man.
A change in speed pulled her out of the quagmire of thoughts in her head. He brought them to the water’s surface and slowly released her lips. His chest pumped as he sucked in breath after breath. Between pants, he smirked. “Stinks of fish here, but man, air never tasted so sweet.”
Gasping to fill her own lungs, she looked around and saw they were under a pier, under the Seattle Aquarium. He’d brought her back, at great personal risk. It was only then she realized how far he’d swum, sharing his breath with her. She stared at him, blinking drops of water out of her eyes. “How did you…?”
Giving her a warm smile, he touched her cheek with the pads of his fingers, and her insides melted. “That’s not important
right now. You’re alive. That’s all that matters.”
“You saved me.” She took another deep breath and traced his lips. Who was this man? Who was Wyatt really? All she knew right now was that she needed to find out.
“I’d do anything for you, Claire. I want you to know that.” He brought her aching fingers to his lips and gently kissed them. “Do you think this earned me a date?”
“Oh, Wyatt.” There was no more resisting. She had to get over her own fears and give him a chance. Give them a chance.
The thud of feet on the wooden planks of the pier, the blare of sirens in the distance, and the whop-whop of a circling helicopter broke through the protective shield that seemed to envelop them. Wyatt winced and scanned the area under the pier, even lowering himself so his eyes were below the surface. What was he searching for? When he came up, he pointed to the ramp behind her. “Can you make it to the ramp on your own? You need to get out of the water.”
She clung to his arm. “You’re coming too, aren’t you?”
“I’ve got something to take care of first. Some trash I have to get rid of.”
Some trash? “What are you talking about?” He wouldn’t look at her. “Wyatt, please tell me what’s going on.”
“Later. Right now, you need to climb up that ramp and let the paramedics take a look at you. Have them take you to Harborview Medical Center. I’ll find you there.”
Long strands of her hair lashed her neck as she shook her head. “No hospital. I don’t have time. Kirby could be dying.”
His eyebrows shot up. “The seal? What’s wrong with him?”
“He caught something, something deadly. I’ve already wasted enough time.”
Shadows in the Mist: A Paranormal Anthology Page 29
