Instead she gazed out over the ocean. Nothing but pristine blue water for as far as the eye could see. Beautiful. If they weren’t stranded in the middle of it.
She longed to see the outline of land. A freighter. Another boat. Her boat. Anything except just water. There wasn’t even a bird in the sky. Never had she felt more alone. Or lost.
What if they didn’t find the island? What if it was uninhabitable? What if her security guard was just like the last one? There would be no one there to help or save her.
Thoughts raced through her head, amping up her anxiety.
“Hey, you okay?”
Chris’s voice snapped her out of her thoughts. He didn’t look at her, simply kept on rowing, sure and steady.
“I’m fine,” she lied.
“We’re going to get through this.”
She hoped he was right.
* * *
Layla awoke with a start. She looked around her, momentarily disoriented.
Raft.
Water.
Bodyguard.
She sat up straighter. Not easy in a soft bottom raft.
“How long did I sleep?” She asked Chris who was still rowing.
“About an hour. How’s the leg?”
“Fine.” He didn’t need to know it hurt like crazy.
“Take an aspirin if you need to.”
Right now, the pain was tolerable. She didn’t want to waste any supplies. Who knew how long the meager items needed to last?
Her gaze strayed to Chris’s shoulders, bunching and rolling with each powerful stroke. He must be getting tired. She couldn’t do much, but she could offer him a break.
Just as she leaned in to offer help, something bumped the bottom of the raft.
Layla froze. “What was that?”
Something in the tense set to Chris’s back and shoulders made her stomach drop.
“Chris, what was that?”
This time he glanced sideways at her, jaw set, confirming her fears.
“Shark,” she whispered.
“They’ve been circling us for the last twenty minutes.”
The color drained from her face. She felt it go. “They smell the blood from my leg.”
Chris didn’t reply, but the muscle leaping in his jawline spoke volumes.
She didn’t fear sharks and had a healthy respect for them in normal situations. This wasn’t a normal situation. The sharks were in predatory mode. Hunting for their next meal. Right now, that meal was her. All it would take was one bite, one hard bump of a dorsal fin to tear a hole in the raft.
Chris had stitched her wound and bandaged it. There was nothing more they could do. Her wetsuit served as a compression wrap which helped.
Carefully, she leaned over and peered over the edge. The water was too dark for her to see much. What she did see was a large, black shadow pass below, making the raft feel even less safe.
She pulled herself back in, scooting a little closer to the center. It didn’t help calm her nerves but she felt safer. Now, she just needed something to occupy herself with. Sitting here letting her thoughts wander was helping no one.
“Give me something to do,” she said, knowing how ridiculous that request sounded. “I can row for awhile.”
Chris didn’t falter. “I got it. Make sure everything is tied to the raft securely.”
She’d already done that, but she’d do it again just for something to do. One by one, she checked the lines. All were tight and secure. The task only lasted a few minutes. When she finished, she glanced up at the darkening sky. Not nightfall. Clouds. Low and heavy.
“Chris, do you see those clouds?”
“Yes. Storm is rolling in.”
First sharks. Now, a storm.
Another bump on the raft. This time more forceful, knocking her sideways. She righted herself and grabbed hold of one of the handles. They needed to do something and do it fast. That storm was moving in at an alarming rate.
Nothing good would come of that.
Just as the thought raced through her mind a crack of thunder sliced through the sky.
Seconds later, the pending doom of raindrops.
7
A raindrop bounced off Chris’s nose. Followed closely with another. Dammit.
“We need to put the canopy up or we’re going to get flooded with rain.”
He paused, resting the paddles across his thighs. Layla was right. They needed to baton down the hatches and ride out the storm. The bad news: it would throw them off course. God knows by how far.
Rain began falling hard, soaking them within minutes. He folded up the paddles, put them away and reached for the canopy. They had water filtration tablets and filters so they didn’t need to catch the rainwater. All it would do is fill the raft and make more work for them by having to bail it out.
Layla helped him get the canopy up. He rechecked all the supplies to make sure they were tied in tight. They couldn’t afford to lose anything from a big wave or choppy waters.
There wasn’t much room in the raft for both of them and the supplies. He moved a couple bags around then leaned against the side, opposite Layla to help balance the raft. And to give her space. Didn’t want to crowd her.
She sat huddled, arms wrapped around her middle, legs pulled up. He could just make out her slender form in the shadows. A tiny shudder rippled through her and he cursed silently before rearranging things again so he could scoot across and sit next to her without throwing the raft off balance.
He didn’t touch her, simply sat there, offering a silent shoulder to lean on.
Rain began to pound the canopy. A wild gust of wind blew through the gaps. Layla’s fingers curled into her side, grazing his thigh as the raft lifted up on a wave and slammed back down.
Chris considered tying her to the raft along with the supplies so he didn’t lose her. She was a tiny thing.
Another wave tossed them up and dropped them. They were taking on water, even with the canopy, and temps had dropped. They were taking quite a beating. Layla didn’t cower or cry, simply held on and rode it out. He gave her credit. She was one tough cookie. She’d need that grit for what lay ahead.
He felt water swirling around his feet. It was too dark now to see anything except for the brief flashes of lightning. The canopy was more for sunblock then rain protection.
Typically, if lost at sea, you would covet every drop of water that fell from the sky. Often, it was the only source of fresh water available and could save your life. They had time to gather necessary supplies so it helped. But the raft was filling with water and would need bailing soon. They couldn’t afford the added weight. Trying to do it in this storm would be impossible.
Nothing he could do right now. With luck, the storm break soon. He didn’t want to think about the alternative.
Cedar Falls, Michigan
Bailey Wolff snapped her head up from where she’d been working on a new topographic map. The blue colored pencil suspended midair.
A chill ran down her spine. The kind you get when danger is near. Which made no sense since she was in her home office and a quick look around proved she was alone.
This wasn’t the first time she’d felt this. The day Ryan was shot she’d gotten the same feeling. Call it sister’s intuition, but something was wrong with one of her brothers. Given their work as private security specialists they put their lives on the line for others on a daily basis. Danger was part of who they were. She’d had to accept that along with everyone else. That didn’t stop her from worrying about them. Especially after losing one brother.
She lay her pencil down and rose from her chair. Slowly, she paced the house. Checking the windows, the doors, for locks. A habit she’d learned after her kidnapping as a child.
Shaking off the past, she made another round. Nothing wrong. Or out of place. Everything was just as she left it. Which meant this feeling was connected with one of her brothers.
Striding to her cell, she picked it up and started to punch in Quinn�
��s number. Then stopped and lay the phone back down. If something was wrong Quinn would call her. As the oldest sibling and founder of Wolff Securities he knew all.
Chris and Evan were both in the field, she knew that much. Quinn wasn’t taking any jobs due to helping Avery plan their wedding which was just over a month away.
Restless, she wandered back to her desk and perched on her chair. Picked up her pencil. Tried to work. The uneasy feeling didn’t go away.
That’s it. She was calling Quinn.
Something was wrong and she needed to know what.
Determined to get answers, she crossed to her cell and punched in her brother’s number.
* * *
Quinn Wolff leaned back in his chair and locked his fingers behind his head. He frowned at the wall of computer screens in front of him. Maps, coordinates, and camera feeds filled his line of vision. Everything was as it was supposed to be except for one thing. One missing red dot on the map.
A knot formed in his gut as he picked up his cell and punched in Chris’s number. Again. For the hundredth time. Only to have it go straight to voicemail. Again. For the hundredth time.
He squeezed the phone in his hand. No response, no location, could mean many different things. Chris could be out of range. Cell battery might be dead. He might be away from his phone. He might have dropped his phone in the ocean on the way to the Bahamas. Unlikely, but a possibility.
Hell, all were unlikely scenarios. They all worked by a strict set of rules. Staying in constant contact was one of them.
What really twisted him up was the missing GPS indicator. Chris was off the grid. What the hell did it mean?
He refused to speculate. Too many probabilities.
What he would do was give Chris a couple more hours to check in. If he didn’t hear from him then he would implement more drastic measures. He’d fly down to the Bahamas himself if he had too. Whatever it took to find his brother and make sure he was safe.
Alive.
The knife in his gut twisted harder. Ryan’s face flashed through his head. The scent of blood filled his nostrils. He looked down at his hands, expecting to see fresh blood.
Something slid over his shoulders and around his neck, snapping him out of the painful memory. He stopped himself before he grabbed the offender and put them down. The scent of orchids replacing the smell of blood.
Soft lips grazed his neck and he forced himself to relax.
Avery.
The war room.
Not the Middle East. No blood on his hands. At least, not physically.
“Hey, stranger.” Avery pressed her lips against his neck. “It’s getting late. Are you coming in soon?”
Quinn put his phone down and reached up to cover her hands with his as the remnants of the past slowly faded away. He’d given Avery the access code to the war room and she rarely visited, respecting the business and their need for absolute privacy. The fact she’d come in tonight set him on high alert.
“Might be a late night,” he said. “What’s wrong?”
She rested her chin on his shoulder, hesitating before answering. “I had another nightmare.”
Damn. Her therapy was going well, but her PTSD still lingered. Lately, it had been rearing its ugly head more frequently.
He spun his chair around, situating her between his legs with his hands on her slender hips. “Want to talk about it?”
Her hands fisted on his shoulders. “No. I just—”
His fiancée was one tough lady. One he admired and loved more than he ever expected. She didn’t show vulnerability often, but he sensed this nightmare had shaken her up.
“Just what?” he urged. She wouldn’t have walked over here if everything was kosher.
She met his gaze. “Is everything okay? With all of you?”
By ‘all of you’ she meant him and his brothers. Wolff Securities put them in harm’s way more often than not and although they tried not to involve the family the danger remained in the back of everyone’s mind.
Ever since Avery’s kidnap and torture she’d been more in tune with her senses and those of others. He wasn’t able to hide much from her and he’d always been able to play his cards close to the vest.
He didn’t want to worry her unnecessarily, especially without concrete information, but he couldn’t hide things from her either.
Choosing his words carefully, he said, “Chris hasn’t been in contact yet.”
“How long has he been dark?”
Quinn smothered a smile. She’d picked up some of their lingo already. “Seven hours.”
“Not long enough for action?”
“No.”
She went silent for a moment. When she spoke, her voice was quiet. “I dreamed of water. Big water. It was raging around me. Dragging me down.”
Ah, hell. Quinn pulled her down onto his lap and cradled her against his chest. She’d survived being waterboarded, but it haunted her and refused to release its grip on her. He hated seeing her suffer. Wanted to make it all go away.
She wrapped her arms around his neck, her head on his shoulder. “I don’t think the dream was about me.”
His cell vibrated. Avery lifted her head. “Get it,” she said. “It might be Chris.”
Quinn grabbed his phone and checked the number. Then frowned. He punched the talk button. “Bailey?”
“Is everything okay with Chris and Evan?”
Did everyone have a heightened sixth sense tonight? “Fine. Why?”
“Don’t hide things from me, big brother. It never works.”
He gritted his teeth and Avery sent him a look. “Chris hasn’t checked in,” he relented.
“There are plenty of explanations,” Bailey said, but she sounded worried.
“Yes.”
“Are you concerned?”
Yes, but he wasn’t sharing his thoughts. “Shit happens, Bale. You know that. I’m sure it’s nothing to worry about.”
His sister let out a short sigh. “You would tell me if anything was wrong?”
“I would.”
“Fine. I’ll wait for your call. But if this feeling doesn’t go away I’m coming over.”
She disconnected before he could tell her no. Bailey wasn’t one to mince words or make idle threats. She would be banging down his door if Chris didn’t check in soon.
He set his cell on the desktop, fighting the urge to call Chris again.
“Bailey sensed something, too,” Avery said. Not a question. An observation. As if she knew without hearing the conversation. “How long before you act?”
He planted a hard kiss on her lips. “I’ve got it handled. Go get some sleep.”
She paused, then slid off his lap. “I’ll leave a light on for you.” With that she left him alone, closing the door quietly behind her.
Leaving a light on for him had become a ritual for them. He worked long hours. Sometimes didn’t come to bed at all if shit was hitting the fan. Avery never complained, never gave him shit for it and she was always there when he came home. The lamp in the bedroom lit every time. How the hell he’d gotten so lucky to find her was beyond him.
Spinning his chair back around to the wall of screens he switched into work mode. Time to find his brother.
8
Hot sun replaced clouds and rain. Calm waters greeted them as Chris tied back the canopy and took stock of their supplies. Everything was there, tied to the raft. They hadn’t lost anything, thank God.
The bottom of the raft was filled with at least an inch of water so he found the bailer cup and went to work while Layla sifted through their supplies for something to eat and drink.
Once the raft was emptied, he got back to work paddling. They were off course, but not by as much as he expected. By midday they should be at the island.
He noticed the flush in Layla’s cheeks, the perspiration dotting her forehead. The sun beat down on them.
“Cover up with a wet shirt,” he said. “Dip it in the water and cover your head.”
<
br /> She nodded, but didn’t move. In fact, she looked exhausted.
“Layla,” he urged.
She sighed and did as he asked. With slow movements she leaned over the edge of the raft, wet a shirt and flopped back inside the raft. She slid down so she was half-laying against the side and covered her head and shoulders with the wet fabric.
“Wake me when we get there,” she murmured.
He decided to keep an eye on her. Wouldn’t take much to infect that wound. Especially with salt water. It may be the sun causing her sleepiness. Or, it could be her body fighting an infection. Either way, he would pay close attention to her.
* * *
Chris put the paddles away and made a quick visual scan of the island looming in front of them. Thick trees, sandy beach, slight L shape. Half-mile long. Seemingly uninhabited. He wouldn’t know for sure until he had boots on the ground doing recon.
He braced a hand on the side of the raft and vaulted over. Water swirled around his knees as he dragged the raft onto shore.
Layla sat up, rubbing her eyes. She looked around then leaped up. “Oh my God. Land. We actually found it.”
Chris got the raft securely on land and reached over to help Layla out. His hands spanned her waist as he lifted her over the edge and deported her on the ground. He immediately let go and let her stand on her own.
She let out a sigh of relief that went straight through him in every inappropriate way. Cursing the response, he splashed through the shallow water onto the sand. Layla followed.
“What do we do first?” she asked, looking around.
“You’re going to stay here while I do some recon of this island.”
She frowned. “You don’t think anyone is here, do you?”
“I’m about to find out.”
A look of alarm crossed her face. “You’re serious?”
He lifted a brow. He never joked about safety.
Necessary Risk: Wolff Securities Book 4 Page 3
