The method didn’t deter this one, a bigger one, a hungrier one. She shoved the regulator in her own mouth, took a fortifying breath before she popped the fish in the nose, its rough skin catching her glove. White teeth flashed as it whipped its head to circle about, not deterred. Damn. Adrenaline sped through her now, telling her muscles to flee, but Adrian couldn’t get away fast enough, and she wouldn’t leave him. The adrenaline made her shaky, made her fingers reaching for the stolen dive knife clumsy. But she was able to draw it out, thrust it under the shark’s jaw, terror giving her the strength to pull the knife free and plunging it in, again and again, finally killing the animal, watching it sink as she processed what she’d done.
Now she had to get away, fast, before other sharks came to devour their brother. She swam to Adrian, grabbed his good arm, urging him forward. He followed, keeping his eyes over his shoulder, waiting for the sharks to appear.
They didn’t, thank God and Mallory’s bravery. But the struggle made them use up more oxygen than Adrian had calculated. No telling how far they’d get now before they ran out of air. He would rather do calculations in his head than relive what he’d just seen Mallory do, the helplessness he’d felt as he watched her get attacked. She was so fucking strong, so fucking smart. He’d almost lost her by trying to save her.
Loss of blood was as disorienting as the narcosis. He could hardly kick his legs. Fatigue pulled at him as the adrenaline drained, but he continued to follow Mallory’s rhythmic motions. He wasn’t even aware how many minutes had passed when his alarm went off, signaling time to change the tanks. He tapped Mallory and gestured for her to turn around so he could check her tanks.
Too soon. They’d used too much air fighting and with the sharks. He handed her a pony tank so he could switch her regulator to the tank she held. She took the pony tank and motioned him to turn around instead. She wanted him to take the big tank.
That was ridiculous. He was more seasoned than she was; he could make the two pony tanks last longer than her big tank.
She gestured to his arm, mimed his inability to swim. Holding a pony tank would make swimming nearly impossible unless they taped it to his chest. If he had the larger tank strapped to his back, his arms would be free.
She was right, though it pained him to admit it. The pony tank would slow him even more. Now he was risking her life because she wouldn’t leave him behind. She lifted her eyebrows when he turned so she could help him switch tanks. The weight fell away, to be replaced with half as much. The pressure on his arm immediately lessened. He blew out a sigh of relief. She strapped the tank tightly to his back—pretty amazing with one hand as she held her own pony tank—then he was breathing again.
He nodded thanks and signaled for her to take it easy on the pony tanks. She rolled her eyes behind her facemask, and they started swimming.
He’d estimated that the shore was about a mile and a half from the site. They should be getting close. He was afraid to surface, didn’t want Smoller to stop them, but he needed to get his bearings. Again, he tapped Mallory’s leg and pointed upward, before he started swimming for the surface. She caught his ankle and tugged, then pointed at herself. He shook his head sharply. He was not going to allow her to expose herself. She jabbed her thumb at her chest, widening her eyes in exasperation, and motioned to his arm again.
He couldn’t let her win this one, not when he was perfectly capable of swimming, of seeing. He’d let her win the tank argument because it only made sense, but this—
But she was already gone. He could see her above him. No way could he catch her.
She returned in under a minute and faced him. She pointed to the shore, held up ten fingers ten times and pointed to her foot. A hundred feet? Not bad. They could do that. She signaled, palm out, for him to wait. But…
She mimed waves and rocks, then straightened her arm so her fingers pointed to the surface and jabbed her flattened hand at her palm, fingers first. He frowned. What the hell? He saw her frustration as she climbed her fingers up her upright arm.
A cliff. Hell. He nodded his understanding. They were off course and they were screwed. They had no place to surface.
He wondered if Toney and Jacob had been able to stay on course, and where they were.
Mallory motioned that they had to keep going, that they had to try. He grimaced, thinking of the waves that could pound them against those rocks, waves they wouldn’t be able to fight.
They swam up a bit, found a current, which they were able to ride awhile. Adrian’s body relaxed since he didn’t have to work so hard.
Too soon, they started having to dodge rocks, still carried by the current, which worked against them now. They had to surface.
Mallory pointed at a shadow slightly below them. He frowned at her as she started to swim toward it, tossing away her empty pony keg, unstrapping her other from her hip. What did she think she was doing?
Still, he followed and saw what she saw.
A cave, just beneath the surface of the water. He hesitated. They had no idea how deep the cave was, how long they’d have to swim before they were able to find air. This would be a dive of faith. Their only other option was to surface and chance getting battered against the rocks. No way could he climb a cliff. They didn’t have the equipment to do so anyway.
God help them. He dove after her into the cave.
The dark water swallowed Mallory. Panic jolted through her. She reached to her left and her hand brushed Adrian. She swam with her hand on his shoulder until he powered up the lights on his facemask.
She followed, swimming along at his right flank, unwilling to let too much distance come between them. The current of low tide pulled at her. She and Adrian couldn’t fight it long. They were already worn out.
Adrian gestured. She looked up at the ceiling. Stalactites dipped into the water. She frowned. With the current, they should have eroded by now. She could see where the seawater had carved them into a comma shape, but they still hung on. Their presence would answer the question of how long this cave had been underwater. She wanted to swim up to them, but Adrian motioned her to follow him. She checked her watch and her depth gauge. They couldn’t stay under much longer; they’d use too much oxygen at this depth.
She followed him deeper and saw a hole surrounded by tumbled boulders, wide enough for them to pass through together. He signaled her to go first. Her heart seized in a moment of apprehension, but she swam through.
The gauge on her pony keg went into the red. She had to take shallower breaths, conserve the remaining oxygen. Adrian swam over, checked her gauge, and worry creased his brow. She waved a hand, trying to blow it off. He motioned to his regulator, flicked his finger between them. If she ran out of air, they’d have to buddy breathe. She nodded and hoped they could find an air pocket before that happened. She didn’t want to disable him further. They’d already reached the point of no return; they didn’t have enough air to swim to the entrance of the cave.
Then even her shallow breaths took the last of the oxygen from the pony tank. Reluctantly, she dropped it and watched it drift down to the ocean floor before she turned toward Adrian. His eyes behind the mask were gentle, almost sad. He offered her his regulator. She took a small breath, tasting him on the plastic and handed it back.
Adrian knew he should have insisted she have the big tank. He couldn’t watch her drown. He took a shallow breath and offered the apparatus back. Her legs bumped his as she moved closer to get it. They tangled for a minute, disengaged as she inhaled, then handed it back.
He caught her hand and squeezed before releasing it. If he never again got to tell her he loved her, if he didn’t have the breath to make the words, she was going to know. She had to know.
He took the regulator, took the smallest breath he dared, handed it over. He didn’t want to watch her die, and he didn’t want to leave her here, alone and afraid. He had to stick around to take care of her.
He realized they were swimming up, that the cave was rising fr
om the water. Mallory pointed, and he saw what she saw—waves lapping at the side of the cave. They had to find air up there. He took a regular breath, offered the regulator to her, and they swam toward the side of the cave. They were going to make it. The huge risk—hell, it hadn’t seemed as huge when he planned it—was going to pay off.
Adrian surfaced first, carefully, not wanting to hit his head on the roof of the cave, or worse, a stalactite. The cool air touched his face and he breathed deeply, then tugged Mallory up beside him. She came up, choked when a small wave slapped her in the face. She gulped in air, which she released on a joyous laugh.
“We made it!”
He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her close, pressing his cheek against hers as much as their masks allowed.
The words he’d ached to say only minutes ago, that had come easily when they’d been alone on the boat, ready for adventure, suddenly choked him. He’d pulled her into danger and almost lost her. Could still lose her. “You did great,” he said instead.
He drew away to inspect their surroundings. They hadn’t just found an air pocket. A ledge jutted out nearby where they could actually get out of the water. He didn’t know what could be beyond that, but hopefully a way out that didn’t require them getting back in the water. Only about twenty breaths remained in the tank. They’d found this ledge just in time.
He heaved himself onto the jutting rock with no small effort, and Mallory pulled up beside him.
“Wow. Touch and go there for a minute, wasn’t it?” she asked as she stripped off her mask, her voice choppy, as if she was unaccustomed to taking regular breaths.
“Made it.” He grimaced as he tried to unbuckle his tank.
“Here, let me.”
She climbed to her knees and leaned over. Once she tugged the tank free, he stretched out on the smooth rock, filling his lungs in a way he hadn’t thought possible moments ago.
“Let me look at your arm.”
“Inaminute,” he mumbled, letting his eyes drift closed.
“Adrian, I need to see if it’s stopped bleeding.”
“Burns like hell,” he said.
She straddled him and tugged at the zipper of his wetsuit. He closed a hand over her wrist to stop her, but she barely had to twist her arm to break his grip.
“I wish we had blankets,” she murmured as she spread his wetsuit open to reveal his wet T-shirt, red with his own blood.
“We’ll be okay. Just rest a bit, then we’ll see how to get out of here.” He grunted, pain slicing through him as she tried to ease the stretchy neoprene down over his shoulder. “Mallory, leave it.”
“Can’t.” She put her facemask on her forehead for the light and leaned down close to the stab wound. “How did you swim with this?”
He tried to twist his arm to get a look, but the skin tugged and hurt too damn bad. “How bad is it?”
“About two inches long, God knows how deep.”
He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the rock. “All the way through my arm.”
She looked up at him sharply.
He lifted his good shoulder and even that took too much effort. “The tip of the knife went all the way through my arm and poked me in the side.”
“Adrian!” Her voice echoed off the cave walls.
He opened his eyes to look at her. “Well, what did you want me to do? Surrender?”
“You could have died.”
Why was she scolding him? He was too tired to fight. “I was pretty fucking determined not to.” He forced himself to sit up, to show he wasn’t weak. He squeezed his eyes closed against the lightheadedness that accompanied the movement. “I’ll be all right.”
Mallory had drawn her knife and aimed it at his stomach. He sucked his gut in automatically.
“Christ! What are you doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “Cutting a strip off your shirt so I can at least wrap it up. It’s still bleeding. Sluggishly, but I think it needs to be protected.”
She sliced into the knit fabric, pulled off a strip, then skimmed her hand over his belly, making him jump. She smiled at his reaction but was all business again as she wrapped his arm. Leaving his arm out, she zipped up his suit as far as she could.
“Where’d you get the knife, anyway?”
“Toney gave it to me. No telling where he got it.”
Adrian grunted. “Come here.” He turned onto his good arm, hooked his bad one around her waist and pulled her to him so her back nestled against his chest.
Finally Mallory’s pulse began to slow as the realization that they weren’t going to die sunk in. “Ade?”
“Yeah?” His voice sounded like he was on the verge of sleep.
She twisted under his arm to face him, even though she couldn’t see him in the darkness. “When we were down there, when I thought we might not make it, I promised myself if we did, the first words I would tell you were that I love you.” She cupped her hand over his rough jaw. “I don’t know what would have happened if I’d died without being able to tell you that one more time.”
He didn’t answer, instead lifted his hand to her face, stroked his thumb over her cheek and lower lip. He knew her so well, he found her without fumbling, drew her mouth to his.
The sweetness of the kiss swept away the fear of their swim, the worry of what they’d do next. They were together. They’d get through this. She couldn’t live without him again. And when he whispered, “I love you, Mal,” she started to cry.
Adrian woke facing the ceiling, shivering, to find Mallory huddled against his side. They’d removed their wet clothes from beneath their wetsuits and put the suits back on, but the chill from the rocks and water still permeated their bones.
Bones. He’d prefer not to think their skeletons would be all that was left of them if they didn’t find a way out of here.
The swim and the hole in his arm made him stiff as hell, but he didn’t want to move and wake Mallory, who slept deeply if her breathing was any indication. He’d let her sleep off her exhaustion. The longer she could put off thinking about their fate, the better.
With his free hand, his injured hand, he reached into his dive belt and pulled the cylindrical seal he’d taken from the ship, the one thing he’d recovered. The lack of light made it impossible to see, but he rubbed his thumb over it. The carved design in the ivory was very faint, but it was his. He wouldn’t have the credit for the Byzantine ship, for proving the Mediterranean people had been the first to the New World. Mallory had lost her opportunity to study the symbols on the artifacts they’d discovered.
They wouldn’t be telling anyone what kind of person Valentine Smoller was, what lengths he took for his success, his recognition.
If they didn’t find a way out of here, then he’d brought Mallory to her death after all.
Beside him, she stretched and huffed. How familiar it sounded, even with the echo of the cave around them. She snuffled and he sensed her looking at him.
“Don’t suppose you thought about packing any food,” she murmured.
“No. Not even water.” He shifted onto his side with a grunt. “Damn, we weren’t supposed to be in here.”
She sat but kept a hand on his chest. For contact? He wasn’t sure why, but he appreciated the gesture.
“We’ll find a way out.”
Funny how the dark did sharpen one’s senses. He believed that she believed that. He didn’t want to dim her hope. That was all they’d brought with them.
“How’s your arm?”
“Hurts like a bitch, but I’ll live.” How long depended on how soon they could get out of here. He sat slowly, unsure of how low the ceiling was.
“No doubt Smoller thinks we’re dead.”
“He can’t come after us anyway.” Adrian told Mallory what he’d done to the boats and equipment.
If Smoller did believe they were dead, they were safe. Once they got out of here, anyway. And then…what? They could pursue justice for the loss of Robert and Linda.
Adrian hadn’t allowed his thoughts to wander that far. Their priority was getting to safety. “Yeah, so? We can’t swim out the way we came, not with no air.”
“Right, but this area should have sinkholes, too, right?” Her voice vibrated with excitement, with anticipation. “And if we can find one, we can get out.”
He snorted, hating to ruin her plans. “Climb out of a sinkhole? With no equipment and me with a bad arm?”
She tensed. “I could climb out. Get help. Don’t forget, Toney and Jacob are out there.”
He hadn’t dimmed her faith, not that he’d wanted to. One of the things he’d always loved best about Mallory was her ability to hope, be it over a find or over him. But the realist in him had to make her see their chances.
“Wait here.” She shifted away. “I’ll try to swim as long as I can stay above water, see if there’s another ledge like this one, maybe one with a way out.”
“Mallory.” He grabbed her arm to still her. “I won’t risk you.”
“What?” She pulled away, irritation tightening her body. “You can’t do it. Or you’re just going to sit here till we starve to death? I don’t think so. I’ll be right back.” She leaned close and pressed a kiss to his jaw, then his mouth, all by feel.
He grunted again, frustrated with his own helplessness, unwilling to release her. So much could go wrong—she could get lost, drown, become trapped—but what choice did they have? “I wish we had a rope so you could find your way back.”
“I’ll stay along the wall.” She gentled her tone. “I’ll be all right.”
Before he could offer another protest, she slipped into the water.
Mallory’s muscles quivered at the idea of swimming another stroke, but with Adrian wounded, she had no choice. When she’d made her decision to join the expedition, to return to Adrian, she never expected this to be asked of her. She hadn’t thought herself capable. She had to dig down to find the fearless girl she’d been, otherwise she couldn’t get through this.
Keeping one hand on the cool, slick cave wall, she bobbed along until she found another dead-end ledge farther up, but the ceiling dipped down into the water, blocking her path. Discouragement tore at her. She had to dive to move forward, holding her breath, see what she could find underwater. She surfaced, then dove several times before finding an indentation that might be an entrance to another part of the cave.
Beneath the Surface Page 22