Chapter 9
Ellie stared at the dripping figures of Phoenix and Boomer, who'd handed a trembling Billy over to the medical team. "How did you find him?" she asked.
"There was a beacon on the buoy," Phoenix replied, wiping his face with a towel.
"Nothing we haven't done before," Boomer said modestly.
She frowned. “You rescue a lot of people in the Navy?”
Boomer glanced at Phoenix.
"Actually, we were Navy SEALs," Phoenix explained.
Ellie knew the SEALs were one of the most elite special operations forces in the world, but she didn't know much beyond what she'd seen in the movies or read in books. Of course, they’d be tough, highly trained, and capable of handling just about anything, but the specifics of what they did were a mystery to her.
Still, she couldn't help but feel a sense of awe as she looked at Phoenix and Boomer, realizing they had once been part of this specialist group. The thought of the dangerous missions they must have undertaken and the incredible challenges they had faced was enough to make her break out in a cold sweat. She panicked at the mere thought of violence. How ridiculous that would sound to them.
It was no wonder they had been able to locate and rescue Billy with such efficiency and composure. It all made sense now. The way they carried themselves—the quiet confidence, the physical strength, and the unwavering focus.
Navy SEALs.
There was that fluttering in her chest again. After what she'd been through with Rafe, that protect and serve mentality was incredibly appealing.
This guy risked his life to save others and was still doing it even though he'd left the Navy.
"How are you doing?" Phoenix asked.
"Me? I'm fine. I wasn't the one thrown in the Gulf. Or the ones saving him," she replied, touched by his concern. Even though she felt wrung out, her entire body drained of adrenaline, weak and shaky, she was a hell of a lot better than Billy.
"I know, but you nearly went in. What happened?"
"The railing was broken. Suzi and I were trying to tie it down. We were worried it would break loose and hit someone in the storm. Then Billy shouted for me to get back. He pushed me out of the way, just before that thing came out of nowhere and hit him."
"What thing?" Phoenix asked.
"I don't know what it was. A piece of debris or part of the rigging. It had obviously come loose and turned into a projectile as it shot across the deck. It narrowly missed me but hit Billy and sent him flying over the edge." She squeezed her eyes shut. "It was an awful moment. I thought we'd lost him."
"That's why it's important to stay below deck during a storm," Phoenix said firmly, but his eyes were kind.
She knew she was being reprimanded and fair enough, as she'd broken the rules. After two years working on rigs, she should have known better.
"I know," she said, feeling guilty. We shouldn't have gone topside. It's my fault he was knocked over. If we hadn't tried to help…" She petered off, grimacing. That was the ugly truth of it. They'd broken the rules and someone had almost died. If not for Phoenix and Boomer.
"It's not your fault," Phoenix said quickly. "That's not what I meant. You couldn't have predicted that would happen."
"Still, if we hadn't?—"
"Forget it, Ellie." He reached out and wiped a wet strand of hair off her face. "I'm just glad you're okay." His touch was electric, and she froze, unsure what to do. Here he was telling her off, and rightly so, and the next moment, he's touching her, his fingers brushing against her skin. It felt… intimate.
Ellie swallowed and cleared her throat. "Thank God you guys knew what to do. You were incredible. You went after him and got him back. You saved his life." Okay, she was babbling again, trying to cover her reaction to his touch.
It was then she noticed Boomer had left the med center, presumably to go get cleaned up, and the medic had taken Billy into a treatment room. They were alone in the reception area.
His eyes, like dark blue lasers, cut through her inner turmoil.
Please don't look at me like that.
He was drawing her in, and she felt powerless to resist. The fluttering in her stomach turned into crashing waves of anticipation. Her pulse raced, and she felt the heat in his gaze—consuming her.
Oh, hell.
When this happened, she completely forgot what she should do and gave in to what her body wanted to do. Right now, she was ashamed to admit, that was Phoenix.
She tried not to think of the way his broad shoulders hunched when he was brooding, or the way his impossibly blue eyes fixed on her face when he was listening to what she said, trying to understand why the sample results were such a problem. Even then, he'd been trying to help, trying to problem solve.
She definitely didn't want to think about how he'd sprung into action when the crane had come down, or the speed in which he and Boomer had launched that inflatable boat in the raging gale and gone after Billy, calculating the drift pattern based on her coordinates.
Phoenix cleared his throat and said, "You did good, Ellie. You kept it together and fed me the information we needed to find Billy."
"It was nothing." She'd been reading meteorological data since college.
"It wasn't nothing. I've met lots of people, better trained in these types of situations than you, who’ve fallen apart when the going got tough." Phoenix gave her a strange look.
Ellie realized it was pride. Her heart fluttered.
"We make a good team,” he added.
We. Team.
The words echoed in her wind-swept brain, but it didn't stop a warmth spreading through her body. He thought they made a good team.
"You're shivering," Phoenix said softly.
"I'm okay." It wasn't the cold.
"Ellie…" His voice was deep and husky.
"Yes," she whispered, moving forward. Then she noticed a cut on his arm, his blood mixing with the sea water or rain covering his body. "You're injured," she stammered, distracted.
Phoenix glanced down. "That's nothing."
Now it was her turn to say, "That's not nothing. Here, let me…" She reached for some gauze in a nearby petri dish and tore open the pack. It was sterile, ready for whoever needed it next. The wound was a narrow but deep. He probably needed a stitch or two, not that he'd get that here.
"It's pretty deep. How'd it happen?"
"I'm not sure." His eyes didn't leave her face.
Hell, he was making it hard for her to concentrate, but she needed to do this, needed to help him—for once. With surprisingly steady hands, she wiped the wound clean of blood and looked around for a disinfectant. Finding it on the little trolley, alongside the petri dish, she dabbed it on the laceration.
He didn’t even flinch. "I think it needs stitches."
"Nah, just tape it up," Phoenix told her. Ellie wasn't sure if he'd even looked at it yet.
"If you're sure."
"I'm sure."
Gently, she brought the edges of the wound together, holding them in place. She then applied butterfly strips across the laceration to keep the skin closed, providing a temporary hold that would encourage healing. To secure the wound further, she covered it with a sterile gauze pad and wrapped a cohesive bandage around the area, ensuring it was snug but not tight enough to impede circulation.
While she worked, she noticed several other scars on his hands and forearms, proof of the dangerous job he'd had. One was particularly bad. Round, jagged, and gleaming silver in the bright light of the med center.
Unable to help herself, she traced around it with her fingers.
"Bullet wound," Phoenix said, his voice deep and husky. "7.62 NATO round. Sniper got a piece of me in Iraq."
She glanced up. "Was it bad?"
"It was at the time." He turned his arm over before snaking it around her waist. "How'd you learn to treat wounds?"
"My mother was a nurse," she replied with a smile, remembering her mother teaching her and her sisters how to dress cuts and grazes when they were young. "We got into a lot of scrapes."
"Thanks," Phoenix murmured, when she was done. "For this."
She smiled as some of the tension eased. Doing something positive felt good. "You're welcome."
They gazed at each other for a long moment, then the door opened, and the medic emerged from the treatment room.
Phoenix released her.
"How is he?" Ellie turned away from him, her heart still pounding.
"He's got a mild concussion and is in a bit of shock, but he'll be fine."
"That's great." She'd never have been able to forgive herself if Billy had been badly injured, or worse, died. He'd been helping her, after all, when he'd gone over.
The tension drained out of her body.
What a night.
"I'd better get back up on deck," Phoenix said, his voice strangely tight.
She realized his night was just beginning.
"Phoenix… be careful up there," she blurted, unable to help herself.
His expression turned tender, and just for a heart-wrenching second, his blue eyes softened. "I will.”
Then he was gone.