Chapter 29
Chapter 29
T hey stood at the edge of the surf, staring toward a horizon they couldn’t see.
“Our island is that way,” Jones said, pointing.
Carol said nothing.
“I know because I charted it when I got here,” he explained.
She remained mute.
“It’s two miles, should take about an hour. That’s a fair distance for a moderate swimmer, especially in open ocean, but I’ll be right beside you.”
Silence.
“I was a SEAL, remember. I can swim for hours, carrying you, if I need to. I won’t let you drown. It looks like we’re having a pause in the storm, probably the eye. That should give us enough time to get there before things get bad again.”
Still she said nothing, staring dazedly out over the ocean. He poked her bicep. “Say something.”
She faced him, took a little breath, and said, “Okay.”
He blinked at her. “Okay? Just like that?”
“You say this is the way, this is the way. You say I can do it, I can do it. Okay.”
“Why?” he asked.
“Why what?”
“Why do you believe in me so much?”
“A better question would be why don’t you?” she countered.
“I guess I went from being the designated fat friend, to being the SEAL team’s obligatory little brother, to being…” he trailed off. To being what? What was he now? Carol stared up at him, big brown eyes warm and intense and trusting, so trusting. Suddenly everything inverted itself and flipped upside down. He was no longer the chubby kid who had to crack a joke to make everyone feel better. He was the head of security for a massive operation, an accomplished former Navy guy who was about to get them off this island.
He straightened, then thought better of it, put his hands on Carol’s shoulders, pulled her close, and kissed her. Her palms pressed to his chest, she tipped forward on her toes and kissed him back. His hand slid to the side of her neck, angling her closer. Her lips were impossibly soft and warm and salty from the nearby ocean spray. Even with the smell of diesel still shimmering around them, he could still pick out her Carol scent, fresh and sweet and bright, a representation of the woman herself, and he never wanted the moment to end.
Carol was the first to break away, unable to support herself on her toes anymore. She settled flat on her feet, breaking the kiss. They blinked at each other, a little shocked and disoriented.
“Well, that was definitive,” she said. Her prim tone was such a contrast to the kiss she just gave him that he laughed.
“Yes, now take off your clothes.” He reached for his shirt, yanked it off, and tossed it aside.
Carol laughed. “This is some elaborate pickup scheme.” She reached for her shirt, but wasn’t quite as bold about ripping it off. Pausing, she glanced at the ocean again. “Is it necessary?”
“Yes,” Jones declared. Their clothes would add unneeded weight, too risky for such a long swim. He unbuttoned his pants and shimmied out of them, tossing his shoes aside. “We can come back for them. Or I’ll send someone.”
“Okay,” she said, sounding shy. Tentatively, she unbuttoned her shirt. He probably should look away, but he couldn’t seem to, especially when she folded the discarded clothes precisely before kneeling to lay them gently in the sand. Then she stood self-consciously before him, now wearing only her bra and underpants. Jones forced himself to give her only a detached once over before turning toward the ocean.
He held out his hand to her. She grasped it, and together they plunged into the surf.
S EALs were born to swim. When he realized how hard Carol was working, compared to him, he decided to distract her by telling her about their training. She settled into a nice rhythm, dog paddling at a medium pace beside him. Bobbing gently when a rogue wave happened along.
“The guys and I would come back from a mission and then spend the next day in the ocean again,” he mused. “Jordan, that’s Shimmer’s wife, says our skin will dry out if we’re not exposed to salt water often enough. I can’t say if it’s true or not because I haven’t been away from the ocean since I joined the navy.”
“Do you miss it?” she asked and took a mouthful of water for her efforts.
He had to think about that. Did he? Before this moment he would have said yes. Of course working a soft job as a security guard couldn’t match the life he left behind, unsustainable as it had been. On the other hand he had settled into his post-navy life much easier than he thought he would. He liked not traveling all the time, liked having a place he knew would still be his place for as long as he chose. “I miss the guys,” he confessed. Having Ribs there made him realize how much. “I miss being part of a team. It was an automatic in, a family away from family.” On the other hand, they’d picked up where they left off. And they always did. The lack of proximity was hard, but they were still his brothers. Jones glanced at Carol, her face filled with determination as she kept moving forward, foot by foot. It was strange how much being with her filled some piece of him he didn’t know was empty, a sort of longing he hadn’t realized he possessed. Carol was the tingle in his spine, the hint of something more, of a future stuffed to capacity with possibility.
She caught his inspection and tossed him a smile. “You’re barely breaking a sweat over there.”
He was swimming at a snail’s pace, for her benefit. He’d always been a fast swimmer, even when he was fat. Even before the navy got hold of him and made him part fish. If by himself he would probably set a new PR getting back to shore. He loved to be in the water, to swim, to float, to tread. But somehow this was better, like some sort of baptism. He was leaving the old Jones behind in that shed, the one who couldn’t see his worth, the one who saw himself as the easygoing little brother. On land he would become the new Jones, the one who grabbed life by the throat, who did what needed to be done. He would take care of the current situation, and then he and Carol would have a nice, long talk. What he would say during that talk, he couldn’t yet say. But he would think of something, he was certain.
“How are you doing? Do you need me to carry you for a bit?”
She shook her head.
“Because I can,” he insisted. It was somehow important for her to know he had her back, that he would take care of her, no matter what.
“Maybe…after…we’re out you…can carry me around…awhile…” she said, panting a little with the effort.
Clearly it was too much for her to try to talk while swimming, which was a shame because suddenly there was a lot Jones wanted to talk about, to ask her. Namely he wanted to know about the boyfriend. How serious were they? Would she leave the island and go immediately back to Brody? At some unknown point he had started to think of the man as his rival. He didn’t realize he was clenching his hands until his palms started to sting. Consciously, he relaxed.
“The thing is, Carol,” he began.
She puffed out a labored little laugh. “Not…the thing…again, David.”
“Hear me out,” he continued. But a fin nearby caught his attention, and then another. “Hold on.” He didn’t want her to know two sharks were now circling them, but she heard the sudden tension in his voice and looked around. Either she was too winded or too stressed to say anything, but she whimpered.
“They’re just curious,” he reassured them both. It wasn’t the first time he’d been in the water with sharks. Usually they went away. If they moved in for a closer look, Jones would go on the defensive, punching and kicking. Sharks were scarier when you didn’t know they were there. If you could keep an eye on them, they could be managed. He flipped onto his back so he could stay vigilant and also have his legs ready to kick a shark nose, if needed. The new watchfulness, combined with the new position, made talking impossible. Carol swam steadily forward like a little trouper. Occasionally Jones flipped around to squint at the sun, chart their progress, and correct their course. Years ago when he had to take so many navigation courses, he never thought he’d need them as a civilian.
After an hour the island came into view. The sharks abandoned their vigil. Jones flipped back onto his stomach as thunder crashed overhead. He had almost forgotten the storm, but now that the eye had passed it came back with a roaring vengeance, tossing the sea into sudden chaos. Carol began to struggle to keep her head up. Jones put his arm around her neck.
“Float,” he yelled over the rain that began to beat down on them.
She went immediately limp, surrendering herself to him as he tugged her the last few feet of high waves until he could stand, then he hooked his arm with hers and dragged her.
They collapsed on the surf. Even he was tired after the last few minutes of fighting the current. He lay on his stomach, sucking sand and air, expelling sea. Carol lay on her back, taking jagged breaths, batting her lashes against the rain, shivering hard. Outside the temperature had probably dropped into the seventies, but the punishing rain made it feel arctic. Jones slid his arm around Carol and drew her against him.
“Good job,” he said. His mouth pressed against her ear so he wouldn’t have to yell. She shivered harder and rolled toward him, kissing him with a shocking amount of pent up passion and emotion. He kissed her back. Lightning flashed, startling them apart.
She pulled away, yelling to be heard. “I guess we’d better find shelter. And clothes.”
“Let’s not be hasty,” Jones replied, smiling when she laughed. She sat up, a hand on his chest, and froze, pointing. He followed the line of her finger and saw a large boat, the goons and their ringmaster from earlier standing beside it on the dock.