by Rachel Grant
“Bull. Undine Gray doesn’t lose it. Undine Gray can face down a grade-A asshole and convince him to take her diving. That took guts.”
“That wasn’t guts. That was desperation.”
“Well then, dig down and find your inner desperation. Because you’re going to need it for”—he checked his dive computer—“ten more minutes.”
“Don’t worry, my desperation is right at the surface.” Her chattering teeth turned into shivering that spread from her belly outward. She focused on her breathing. On holding at the proper depth.
The minutes dragged on, and Luke stayed beside her, whispering encouragement. Holding her hand. Keeping her sane.
He also used the dive computer and kept them safe and on target, never showing a hint of the stress that she fought with every ripple of her fins.
Finally, Luke’s computer cleared them for surfacing, and up they went.
They reached the surface, and she pulled off her full-face mask and took a deep breath. Luke did the same and slipped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him. He kissed her, quick but deep.
She cupped his face. “Thank you, Luke.”
“Just doing my job, ma’am.” He released her. “And I’m not done yet. Time to find Ray.”
She scanned the water, waiting for a swell to lift her so she could see across the strait. A wave rolled over the surface, and up she went, seeing nothing toward the Pacific. Another swell, and she didn’t catch sight of a boat to the east. “Luke?” she said, hearing the tremor in her own voice.
He put his mask back to his face and called to Ray on the radio. No response. She scanned in all directions. Looking toward the US, then Canada. A fully loaded freighter moved slowly in the distance. But no dive boat. No Ray.
Once again, panic threatened to suffocate her. She turned toward the Washington coastline. She was cold, exhausted, and more than a little terrified, but it was time to buck up. Luke had gotten her to the surface. She wouldn’t drag him down now. She took a slow, steady breath, dropped her weight belt, and said, “Luke, you ready to swim?”
Chapter Fifteen
The nearest land, Waadah Island, which projected out from the breakwater that fronted Neah Bay, was two miles away. The swim would be brutal, cold, exhausting, and take at least an hour and a half. Luke knew Undine was scared. He’d seen—and felt—her trembling. But she’d held together like a champ on the world’s longest decompression stop when she had to be on the verge of a PTSD-inspired panic attack. And now she’d turned and faced the next obstacle head-on.
He was impressed. And he would damn well get her to shore.
She was a strong swimmer, he knew, and they had fins. Their legs would do the work. The hardest part would be fighting the current. He gave thanks that she had the thickest, warmest wetsuit available. They had time before hypothermia set in.
He swam at her side, letting her set the pace. After a thousand yards, he stopped her and made her drop her empty air tank, inflate her BC vest, and float on her back. She was breathing heavily, and it was hard to know if that was due to the exertion or stress. Probably both, but she needed to ease up on the exertion and control her stress.
“We’ve got a long way to go,” he said. “Let your fins do the work.”
“I know. It’s hard to hold back, though. To remember to pace myself, that we’ll get there faster if I don’t try to sprint.”
“You always preferred sprinting over the distance swims, didn’t you?”
“Go all out and done. Yep. That’s me.”
It was how she’d run the other night as well. Hell, it was how she’d lived, too eager to be an adult. And now that he understood her, it was a lot harder to hold that against her.
“Do you think…Ray left us?” she asked.
“No. The anchor was at the bottom; the line snapped. Ray wouldn’t leave us. He must’ve had other trouble after the line broke, or he’d have been there.”
She nodded. “He seemed…like a good guy.” She still breathed heavily, but the rate was starting to even out.
“He is a good guy,” he said.
“Someone might have sabotaged his boat.” She turned her head to meet his gaze as she floated on the surface. “Someone could be trying to kill us. Kill me. Again.”
He hated confirming that fear when the end result was still a possibility. An unlikely one, given that there was no way in hell he’d let anything happen to her, but he couldn’t dismiss the fact that they still had a mile and a half to swim to the island. She physically had the strength, but panic was a dangerous factor, a wild card that could prevent him from quite literally keeping her afloat.
But placating lies could do more harm than good. She’d see right through it, and it would piss her off. “It’s possible. Everyone at the Coast Guard knew we were diving today, and there’s no telling who Ray might have mentioned it to. Neah Bay is a small town. Anyone who wanted to know what we were up to could easily find out, and we know someone is looking for something on the sub.”
“But, killing us…wouldn’t that just draw attention to the digging? It’s too late to hide it.”
He’d considered that—the slow ascent and long decompression stop had allowed for plenty of time to think—and he’d come up with only one reason that made sense. “It could be a delaying tactic. If something happened to us, the focus would be shifted to the boat—and to Ray—it would take days to get another pair of divers who could explore Wrasse.” Her breathing had leveled out. “Time to go,” he said. “Ready?”
She nodded, and again they were off, fighting the current, waves, cold, and fear. They took another break after five hundred yards, and the next after that at two hundred, the intervals getting shorter as she grew more tired. They’d only swum half the distance, and her energy was starting to fail.
She floated on her back, her breaths coming in shallow gasps.
“You’ve got this, Undine. As a mermaid, you own the damn sea.”
“I’m not feeling”—hard gasp—“very”—another gasp—“mermaidish right now.”
“I’ve always loved watching you swim,” he said, trying another tactic.
“Bull. You’re humoring me so you won’t have to drag me to shore.”
“True that I don’t want to drag you, but I’m not humoring you. Watching you swim has always been a weird turn-on. I used to fantasize about having sex with you in the tank at the institute. Before I knew, I mean.”
She sputtered out a laugh. “That would have gotten you fired even if I weren’t the boss’s underage daughter.” Her breathing slowed a notch. “A couple did that once. They’d disabled the camera, and it was the middle of the night, so no one should have noticed, but my dad couldn’t sleep, and his favorite thing to do when he can’t sleep is…watch the fish in the big tank. I gather he turned on the underwater lights, and everyone got a huge surprise.”
Luke laughed. “Was it anyone I know?”
“Nah, it was about four years after you left.”
He couldn’t help but stiffen at her wording. He hadn’t simply left. But that was the problem with being around Undine. Too many triggers. Even in a situation as nutty as this was, swimming for their lives, he couldn’t let it go.
Much as he wanted her—and he wanted her body more now than ever—there was no possibility for a real relationship. Not with the amount of baggage between them. And he might be an asshole, but he didn’t think he was so depraved that he’d screw her again knowing that. She was just too vulnerable, and would be even more so after today.
“Let’s do another two hundred,” he said, and they set out.
They were down to hundred-yard intervals by the time they neared the island on the end of the spit, but once Undine had the destination in sight, she went full-bore, ignoring Luke’s caution to pace herself.
She made it, but he figured she had nothing left by the time she stood up in the low surf and approached the beach on the eastern shore of the island. Cleared of the water, she collap
sed and immediately cursed the cold sand at her back. “Washington may be pretty,” she panted, “but sometimes, I hate it here.”
He couldn’t really argue with her on that as he collapsed next to her. His muscles burned. It had been forever since he’d had to do a swim like that—where it really mattered. At least swimming was low-impact or his injured hip would be throbbing.
In spite of his exhaustion, his adrenaline was pumping. He wanted to pull Undine on top of him and kiss the hell out of her.
Okay, he wanted to do a lot more than kiss her, but the cold water had affected his…ego…so it would take him a few minutes. But he didn’t act on the impulse. Didn’t let the adrenaline win. Because he was a professional, and his job was to protect Undine’s gorgeous ass and not fuck around until she was safe. And by the time that happened, the adrenaline would be gone and he’d be sane again and remember all the reasons he couldn’t, shouldn’t, and wouldn’t.
They were both rising to their feet to begin the long trek across the island and over the spit, when two Coast Guard boats shot out of their harbor. A search party?
He and Undine stood and waved, not bothering to yell, knowing they’d never be heard over the roar of the engines and crash of the surf.
Both boats passed before one suddenly turned in their direction. They’d been spotted.
The boat slowed when it reached the tricky island coastline. The tide hid the shallow, treacherous rocks that were splendid tide pools at low tide. The narrow channels between rocks would be impossible for the vessel to navigate.
Undine let out a heavy sigh. “I guess it’s back in the water for us.” She took a shallow, graceful dive and moved through the channels with the ease of an eel.
Much as he wanted to admire her ass in that wetsuit, he followed and quickly reached the side of the boat, where Undine was already being pulled aboard.
Once on deck, they were given warm towels, and he asked what had happened to Ray and Parker.
“Not sure,” the young Coast Guard boatswain’s mate said. “We received a Mayday call just a few minutes ago. I gather there was both engine and radio trouble, but Lt. Reeves finally got the radio to work and let us know there were two divers down when the anchor snapped and the boat had drifted too far for you to see him when you surfaced.”
“They’re okay?” Undine asked.
“Yeah. And they were relieved when we radioed in that we spotted you.”
“The Coast Guard will inspect Ray’s boat for sabotage?” Luke asked.
“We’re going to tow it into our marina. An investigator will be out tomorrow at the latest.”
“Good,” Luke said.
“We’re going to take you to the station as well,” the boatswain’s mate added. “You can shower and get warm. We need to interview you, and the medic needs to check for signs of decompression sickness and hypothermia.”
Luke nodded, knowing this was standard procedure.
He took a longer shower than he intended, but damn, it felt good to breathe uncompressed air while hot water poured down his back. He was toweling dry when Ray, Parker, and the boat arrived at the facility, and his clothes, wallet, and keys were returned to him.
They were all interviewed separately, which took time. He gathered that the sabotage on the boat was done well—individually, each problem could be an accident, or poor maintenance on Ray’s part. The anchor line by itself could be an accident. Hell, he’d been on boats when that happened before, but he had a hard time believing Ray would screw up so badly and let a diesel engine run dry, and the fact that the radio went on the fritz at a critical time…that was highly improbable.
In all, three hours passed before a Coast Guard employee finally drove him and Undine to his truck in the tribal marina. Undine’s cabin was just across the road, and she hugged the bag of her belongings to her chest and said, “I can walk from here. I’ll let you know what my boss says after I talk to him about today’s incident. He probably won’t demand we dive again, and even if he did, we no longer have a boat. My guess is this is it.”
Her sudden dismissal caught him completely off guard. “You’re just going to walk away?”
“Oh. Um. I guess I should have said thank you. For saving my life. Again. You were heroic. I mean it.”
For some reason, he hated hearing her repeat his egotistical tease in that dead voice. “I didn’t mean you had to thank me. I don’t want your thanks. I want to know why the hell you’re walking away.”
“Your responsibility to me is done. I asked if one of the Coast Guard guys could give me a ride back to Port Angeles tomorrow, and they said they could arrange something. You’re off the hook. Free.”
“What if I don’t want to be free?”
She looked at him incredulously. “That’s all you’ve wanted from the start.”
“Well, I’ve changed my mind. I’m not done diving on the Wrasse wreckage. And you aren’t either.”
“Oh, yes I am.”
“You need to dive there again for the same reason you did before. If you don’t face it, it’ll be that much harder to get in the water again.”
Her nostrils flared, and he knew he had her. He didn’t bother to ask himself why he was trying to convince her when she’d been right about him wanting to be free. All that mattered was she was scared. Scared enough to be willing to give up the thing that was most important to her. And he couldn’t let that happen.
“The Navy won’t authorize another dive for me at that depth after what happened today. We were already pushing the regs.”
“So it won’t be a Navy-funded dive. It’ll be two private citizens diving together. You’re a civilian. They can’t stop you.”
She seemed to be holding her breath. When she finally met his gaze, her eyes were damp. “I’m scared, Luke. Someone tried to kill me. Kill you. All I want to do is fly home. I’d go tonight if it weren’t too soon to fly after diving.”
He stepped toward her and grabbed her biceps. “They tried, but they failed. You didn’t get bent. You are just fine.” He pushed her hair off her cheek and cradled her face with one hand. “As perfect as ever. And it would take a lot more to hurt me than what we did today. Hell, I had to face worse scenarios in SEAL training. You probably faced worse in Navy dive school.”
“But in dive school, I didn’t panic! I was a failure today.”
“No, you weren’t. Not even a little bit. You held it together, in spite of your PTSD. That was fucking amazing, how you pulled through when you had every reason to lose it.”
“I want to go home,” she said, her voice plaintive.
“Tough. I won’t let you.” He glanced at the row of cabins, her temporary home in Neah Bay. The burning grill on the porch last night didn’t seem so innocent after what happened today. “And you aren’t going back to your cabin either.”
“I’m not?”
“No. You’re moving in with me.”
Chapter Sixteen
Undine put away her clothes in the loft bedroom of the oceanfront cabin. Luke had offered her the downstairs bedroom, but the ceiling was low over the loft. With his height, it would be difficult for him to escape bashing his head.
The whole situation was surreal. The cabin was small, cozy, and had a breathtaking view of the Pacific Ocean. The perfect romantic getaway, except that she was here because someone had tried to kill her, and a former SEAL had just declared himself her bodyguard. That he still traveled with a pistol shouldn’t surprise her, but it did. He’d been keeping it locked in a rear storage compartment in his SUV, but from now on, he said it would be on the nightstand or holstered at the small of his back.
She wasn’t squeamish around guns. She’d hung around with enough Raptor operatives in the last year—and even dated one—that she was familiar with men and women who wore them as part of their job. But Luke wasn’t wearing it because his work required it. He was locked and loaded because someone had tried to kill them both.
She was having a hard time wrapping her bra
in around that, and an even harder time accepting that that person could well be Yuri, and the reason had something to do with the Wrasse excavation.
She hadn’t been able to face calling Greg to give him the full update, so, coward that she was, she called Erica and gave her the details. Erica insisted they bring Mara into the conversation—which, admittedly, was probably who she should have called first. Sometimes she forgot Mara was head of NHHC and Greg was only in charge of UAB, but that was because Greg was determined to ignore Mara’s authority, and in the grand scheme of things, Undine and Erica answered to Greg.
Mara alerted Curt, and Undine found herself passing the phone off to Luke, who briefed the attorney general on the security measures he was taking to protect Undine. Together, she and Luke shared what they’d learned from the Coast Guard, and Curt promised to press them for details on the investigation.
Now, with the important phone calls done, she unpacked and sat down on the bed, trying to catch her breath. Or her equilibrium. She wasn’t quite sure. When her eardrums burst, she’d suffered vertigo. They’d healed, but she felt just as off-balance now as she had immediately after the explosion.
Sounds coming from the kitchen told her Luke was preparing dinner. She didn’t know if she was hungry, or if she’d even be able to eat, but she was utterly humbled that he was taking care of her.
Talk about heroic. The guy should have a statue made in his honor. She glanced over the loft railing to see him chopping vegetables in exercise shorts and nothing else. The statue should be cast bronze, or maybe sculpted from marble. Definitely nude.
She descended the narrow staircase. “Shirtless cooking? Not that I’m complaining, mind you.”
He grinned and flexed a bicep. “Someone insisted on putting the thermostat in the equatorial range.”
“Oh. Uh, I guess I’m warm now. I’ll turn it down.”
“Or leave it. If you get hot, you could go topless. I won’t mind.”
She laughed. “Tempting. Can I help you chop?”
