“They’re on their way. About ten minutes out. There were a lot of injuries from the last explosion and red tape to wade through. They haven’t found the captain yet, but they’ll send a search team out for him, too.”
I nod, but I don’t say anything. When the silence stretches between us, Chloe hops back up and says, “I’m going to see if I can figure out how to lift the anchor so we can meet them halfway.”
I close my eyes. Try as I might, when I try to call up Sheila Langford-Jones’ face, I can’t.
And it’s almost as bad as being responsible for her death.
I should remember her face. I have a vague recollection of a middle-aged woman, maybe dark hair? But aside from that, there’s not much else wiggling free in my fuzzy memories.
What bothers me is what I can remember. The weather. I can barely recall the face of the woman who died, but I can remember the goddamned weather. The awesome force of the gale that swept her boat out to sea. I remember the search grid. I remember the people, all of them, who are assigned to my team.
Apparently I can remember all of the things that didn’t matter, but the one supposed to be the most important of all, I don’t.
“Shit!” Chloe’s shriek breaks me out of my reverie.
I look up and find the wheelhouse empty. The hot lance of fear stabs through me so intensely, I’m up and across the room before a clear thought crosses my brain.
“Chloe?” I shout down the stairs. I take a few steps down and shout again. “Chloe!”
Her shadowed form appears at the bottom of the stairs. Her face is so white I can see it even though there are no lighted pillars near her.
“What’s wrong?” I ask.
She opens her mouth like she’s going to say something, but a choked sound is all that comes out. I start to go down the stairs to meet her, but she seems to shake herself out of it and she races up the stairs and past me.
“Chloe,” I say again. “What’s wrong?”
She doesn’t answer me. Instead she fumbles with the radio mic again and keys it up. “Tyler?” She slaps an impatient hand on the console and whispers “C’mon, c’mon” beneath her breath. “Tyler are you there?”
A garbled sound answers her and I take slow measured steps toward her. I didn’t think our situation could possibly get worse, but I should have known Jones wouldn’t let me off the hook so easily.
“We have a major problem,” she tells him. There’s another garbled response and then her shoulders heave as she steadies herself. “You guys need to keep back,” she says.
This time I can hear Tyler’s response because I’ve been taking steps closer without even thinking about it. “Keep back?” Tyler says. “What the hell are you talking about, Chloe? We need to get you two off of there. Gabe needs medical attention.”
“You can’t come near us.” She runs a shaking hand over her hair. “There’s a huge bomb in the engine room.”
Chloe
“What the hell do you mean there’s a bomb in the engine room?” Gabe demands, his pale face flushed red.
I flick a glance at him and then depress the button on the mic. “Tyler, you have to keep everyone away from here.”
“Motherfucker!” Gabe exclaims behind me.
“What if we come up behind—”
“There’s no time.” I picture the small bundle of black I found in the engine room, it’s red face flashing with menace. “There’s a timer on the bomb. We only have seven minutes. I managed to get the anchor up so we can keep heading out to sea. I don’t want anyone to get hurt.”
“What about you two?” Tyler demands. “We have to get you off of there.”
“Don’t worry about—”
“No,” Gabe interrupts. He leans heavily against the console and snatches the mic from my now ice-cold hands. To Tyler, he says, “Do you have any speedboats out there?”
“We’ve got whatever you need,” Tyler says.
“Send the fastest one you’ve got, but be careful. Chloe’s is going to jump ship and I don’t want you to run her over.” He meets my gaze and then says, “She’s precious cargo.”
“Do you—”
“We don’t have time to debate,” he tells Tyler. “Get them here now.”
Gabe drops the mic and wipes his forehead. “We’ve got to get you out of here. Can you swim?”
“Can I swim?” I repeat.
Gabe cups my head with a hand and presses a quick, hard kiss on my stunned lips. “Baby, we don’t have time. Need an answer now. Can you swim?”
“Yes,” I say, dazedly. “I can swim.” A wave of exhaustion crashes over me and I sway.
His head jerks up. “What?”
Tears burn, but I will them away. “I don’t know how long I’m gonna be able to. Getting kind of worn out here.”
Darkness flashes in his eyes, then a second later it’s gone. He searches about the cabin and finds an orange life vest. With great care, he slips it around my shoulders and buckles it at the waist. “You promise me,” he says, his attention completely focused on securing the buckles and tightening the straps. “Promise me once you’re in the water you’ll swim, fast as you can, away from this damn boat.”
“What will you do?” His wounds aren’t going to do well in the water and I see the reflection of my thoughts in his eyes.
He tucks the strap in and he threads his hands through my hair. When he speaks, his voice is gruff, detached, but I can intuit the lack of emotion is because if he were to betray any at all, neither of us would make it out of this alive.
“I’m gonna make sure no one else gets hurt. I’ve got to make sure this thing isn’t going to drive straight into someone so I’m gonna point it far out to sea to make sure no one gets in its path.”
“What about you? You’re coming with me, right? We don’t have much time now.”
“You don’t need to worry about me,” he responds as he turns away to secure the steering wheel. “Go,” he says gruffly. “Go now.”
“I can’t leave you,” I say and it’s true. My feet are glued to the ground. I couldn’t leave even if I tried.
He slams his palms against the wheel. “Don’t be stupid. Get the fuck off of this boat before the damn thing explodes.”
But I’m shaking my head. “You’ll have to throw me off the damn thing because I’m staying.”
A pained expression flits over his face, breaking his calm facade. He strides over and takes me by the arm, but I surprise us both with a last summoning of strength. He grips my biceps with enough force to leave bruises and shakes me like a rag doll.
“Stop being so fucking stubborn!”
I ball my fists up and glare at him defiantly. “You didn’t leave me,” I spit back at him. “You’re the one who’s being stupid if you think I won’t let you commit suicide. Either you come with me or neither of us are getting off of this boat.”
“If you don’t go now, you won’t make it,” he growls.
I meet his gaze. “Then, I guess you’d better get started, huh?”
He holds my eyes for a few seconds longer, then he bites off a curse and spins around. While he’s working at the dash directing the ferry way out to sea, I take a quick search around the cabin. It’s in shambles, but there has to be something here we can use.
First, Gabe needs his own life vest. With his wounds, he’ll last even less time than I will. I find one in a drawer and set it on the table. Next, I need something to signal the rescue boats with. My heart is beating so fast I think I may faint, but I force myself to focus. After a few frantic seconds of searching, I find a flashlight on top of a set of filing cabinets.
When I turn back, I find Gabe locking the wheel with the forked back of a chair. He sees me standing behind him and he sighs.
“I was kind of hoping you’d come to your senses,” he says as he crosses the room, his limp growing more pronounced.
I hand him the vest but keep the flashlight. “Not a chance.” I glance at the clock on the dash and say. “W
e better get moving. We’ve got about five minutes left and I’d rather not be here for too much longer.”
Gabe finishes buckling his life vest and then he cups my cheek. It may be the shock of all the traumatic events of the day. I could reason it away as some sort of reverse Stockholm syndrome where I start to have feelings for my rescuer. But whatever the reason, when he tips my gaze up to his, time stops.
“I’m gonna crank up the speed, it won’t be much, but we need to put as much distance between us and this rig as possible. Once I do, we need to hightail it out of here, ‘kay?” I nod and he heaves a breath. “Good,” he murmurs. “Good.”
He turns and puts the throttle wide out. When he turns back, I take my place under his arm and help him to the stairs. Our progress down them is a slow, arduous process and I can feel each and every second pass with slow, aching precision.
Gabe’s face is tight with grim determination and by the time we reach the bottom, it’s also ghost white. Fear, not for the bomb, not for me, but for him, burns through me, revitalizing my resolve.
I ignore the screaming pain in my legs and the blackness encroaching on my vision. Through sheer strength of will, I shoulder Gabe down the long length of the first floor until we’re at the back railing where Jones threw himself overboard.
Pushing those thoughts from my mind, I carefully lean Gabe against the railing and undo the latch for the gate used to load and unload passengers. It squeals at it swings wildly out.
I turn to Gabe and give him a weak smile. “Are you ready?” I ask.
“Hell, no,” he says, but he holds his hand out anyway.
“You need to go first,” I say as I take it.
A shock of panic courses through me when he doesn’t even argue with me. He’s too tired to even talk back and that’s when I worry he may be worse off than I thought.
Gabe inches to the open gate and his shoulders lift as he inhales deeply. He gives me one long, searching look before he throws himself off of the edge.
I rush to the railing just in time to see him disappear beneath the water. Without giving myself time to think about it, I hurl myself down after him. A scream tears itself from my throat as I go down, down into the freezing cold depths of the water.
The impact knocks the breath out of me and the water tosses me in every direction. I open my eyes to the sting of the water, but it’s useless. I can’t see anything. The vest tugs me upward and I swim one-handed, the other weighed down by the bulky flashlight. I can only hope it’s waterproof as I surge to the top.
I gulp in air and seawater as waves knock me back and forth. Twisting around, I scan the surface for a sign of Gabe, but it’s hard to see anything. With my free hand, I pull myself in a random direction. Behind me, the boat speeds off into the darkness, a flame on top of the water.
“Gabe!” I choke on water and spit it out. “Gabe!”
Remembering the flashlight, I flick the switch and am filled with relief when it illuminates a swath in front of me.
“Gabe!”
I scan the light over the surface, but the darkness makes it pretty impossible to see much. He could be anywhere. Spinning around in every direction, waving the light frantically, I’m overcome with the fear. If he succumbed to his injuries and gone under while I was searching, I’ll never find him. Over the waves, I can hear the sound of a clock ticking down precious seconds.
My arms turn to cement from pulling myself through the waves and holding up the hefty flashlight, but I keep going. Finally, my light snags on a blob that doesn’t match the water around it.
“Gabe!” By now my voice is hoarse, but I keep screaming his name hoping it’ll rouse him. “Gabe!”
When I finally get to him, I nearly go under when I realize he’s floating face down in the water and he’s completely limp.
Gabriel
Everything is muffled and I’m so cold, it’s almost hot, like when I played in snow for the first time as a kid and forgot to wear gloves. I know I need to get up, but I’m so tired, I sink back into darkness. I hear someone calling for me, but I can’t summon the energy to figure out who it is and why.
“Gabe!” They call again.
Then hands are on me, turning me over and I realize I can’t breathe. Coughing overcomes me, my body trying to purge my lungs of its contents.
“Gabe, oh my God,” a woman says.
I blink, trying to pull her face into focus, but it takes so much energy I give up and pull a picture of her to the forefront of my memory. Chloe. Tyler always says if he’s going to die, he’d rather do it staring at a beautiful woman. I’ll have to remember to tell him he’s right. After a few seconds of furious hacking and blinking, my lungs clear and my vision refocuses.
“You’re okay,” Chloe says. “We’re okay.”
“S’goin’ on?” I slur.
“It’s okay. We’re safe. The boat—” But an explosion cuts off her words. Waves of heat pass over us and debris rains down around us.
She loses her grip on me and the water swallows me, despite my life jacket. At least this time I manage to hold my breath until she finds me and drags me back to the surface. We break through the top and float there for a second watching the decimated wreckage of the ferry be consumed by tongues of flames.
When we can tear our eyes away, Chloe turns to me and says, “Are you okay? They should be here soon.”
It takes me a couple tries with my teeth chattering from the cold, but I spit out, “F-fine. I’m fine.”
“You don’t look fine,” she says.
A bead of water drips down her face, and I wish I had the energy to trace its path with my fingers.
I shake my head to clear it. “I’ll be okay.”
A feeling I don’t quite recognize is filling my chest, making it tight and hard to breathe. For a second, I wonder if Jones had gotten off another shot that we missed. My face grows hot and my throat scratchy. I keep trying to cough to clear it out, but it comes back.
“Just hold on,” Chloe is saying, her face illuminated by the distant fire. “I can hear them. They’re getting closer.”
I have to focus intently on the sound of the water and my own racing heart, but I do catch the faintest sound of an engine roaring and it does sound close. Relief steals over me.
“They’re almost here,” Chloe says.
I try to find them in the darkness, but my vision is failing. Maybe Jones did get another shot off. Or maybe my bandages came off and I’m bleeding out.
“Stay with me,” is the last thing I hear Chloe say before I pass out.
“You’re damn lucky,” Tyler says.
I glance around the hospital room, at the wires and tubes connecting me to a half-dozen machines and then back at him. “Lucky?” I say.
“Coulda been worse,” he says.
Leaning into the soft, but thin, pillows, I grunt. “Yeah, it could have. Almost was.”
A knock comes at the door and a cheerful-looking nurse peers around the edge with Tyler’s wife following close behind holding two cups of coffee. “Mr. Rossi, just need to come check you over.”
The nurse is young, mid-twenties maybe and the type of woman I would have hit on and tempted back to my place. As she inspects my bandages, even flipping up the sheets to look at the gunshot wound on my leg, I don’t feel the slightest stirring of lust. Nothing.
Probably because they haven’t told me anything about Chloe. I’m exhausted, I tell myself. I’ll be able to relax when I know she’s okay and then I can go home and life will go back to normal. Whatever normal is.
“Looks good, but take it easy,” the nurse says and then shoots a stern look at Tyler. “You need to rest, Mr. Rossi.”
Tyler holds his hands up in defense and gives her an easy smile. “I’ll make sure he doesn’t move,” he tells her.
His wife rolls her eyes and smacks the back of his head after the nurse closes the door behind her. Tyler smiles wider and kisses his wife on her lips, murmuring to her.
“When are
they letting you out?” his wife asks when she can pull herself from Tyler’s grip.
I shrug before I forget about the gash in my side. “Probably tomorrow. They’ve stitched me up, gave me antibiotics. Don’t see any reason why I need to stay longer than that.”
Selena raises her eyebrows. “Tomorrow, huh?” she says.
My lips twist into a scowl. “I’m not staying in here longer than that.”
“He hates hospitals,” Tyler tells her.
Selena says, “You were shot twice and nearly blown up, for God’s sake. You need to rest like the nurse said.”
I shake my head. “I won’t get any rest here. It’d be best for all involved if I do my convalescing at home.”
“You’ll stay here until they discharge you,” Selena says firmly.
Tyler gazes at her with moony eyes. “Gotta love her,” he says and kisses her hand. “She’s a pain in the ass, but you gotta love her.”
I roll my eyes at the both of them. “I’ll stay,” I say, then add, “for now.”
Selena gives me a stern look, then kisses Tyler on the cheek. “I’ve got to get going, but you keep an eye on this guy and make sure he doesn’t give those pretty nurses too much trouble.”
Grateful for the change in subject, I say, “Yes, ma’am.”
She comes to give me a kiss. “You rest, okay? I’m not joking.”
“Fine,” I say. “But only if you promise to run away with me. You deserve much better than that old man.”
Tyler makes a scoffing sound in his throat.
Selena smiles again and ruffles my hair. “Get better,” she says, “and we’ll see.”
Once she leaves, I’m able to unhinge my smile and I stare out of the window for a while. Tyler watches me silently until I say, “You don’t have to stay. I’ll be pretty boring for a while.”
Tyler doesn’t crack a joke, which isn’t like him. “I think you need to talk about what happened,” he says with an uncharacteristically serious face.
“I’m fine,” I say to the wall over his shoulder.
“Cut the bullshit,” he says. “You’re not okay. I can look at you and see you’re not okay.”
First to Fight Box Set: Books 1-5 Page 11