Chapter 3 #2
The sunset dragged a finger across the waves. Maybe she’d scared Bertha off, because no more bumps hit her from below, but now the ocean had turned wild, and in the distance, another squall hovered over the horizon from the west.
So, this would be another fun night. As long as her sausage didn’t spring a leak and she didn’t drift into some dead animal or succumb to the temptation to slurp up any of the ocean water?—
Maybe she should just let go, sink to the bottom.
And right then, Margo’s face, her eyes, found Austen’s and drilled into her soul. “Don’t give up!”
She put her head down, tried not to sob.
And somehow, in the swirl of confused ocean, she heard it. A horn.
A boat horn.
She looked up but didn’t see anything, the shadows deep, the waves tossing her. Maybe they couldn’t see her, either?—
Grabbing her sausage, she held it in the air, kicking hard to stay afloat. Please, see me. See me.
Another horn, then two more.
A flare arched over the water, turning it ablaze with light.
She wanted to weep when she spotted the boat, sleek, white, the setting sun turning it to flame, cruising through the water toward her.
A yacht . Large, with three stories, at least a hundred feet long, with a coms tower and deckhands shouting. One of them threw her a life ring and she swam toward it.
Please let Bertha be long gone ? —
Then, a motor. Someone had launched the rescue boat in the stern, and now it sped through the waves, a man in the bow, leaning over as if to pluck her from the water.
Dark hair, white shirt, tall, broad shoulders, holding onto the sides of the boat.
Declan?
He wore such a dark, fierce look—it thrummed through her and stole her up even before he reached out for her.
His hands gripped her arms.
The man hauled her from the ocean like she was weightless.
Except he fell back then, still clutching her to himself, collapsing onto the bottom of the boat.
She just sank into his chest, gripping his shirt, shaking.
“I got you,” he said, his voice cutting through the roar of the engine, the terrible screaming inside. “I got you.”
She didn’t care what Stein said.
Criminal or not, her heart might already be a goner.
* * *
A miracle.
That’s what Declan decided to call the providence of plucking Austen from the sea just at the edge of sundown, the night hot on his tail.
His brain kept that moment when he’d seen the inflated orange pike protruding from the water. Then the look on her face when she’d spotted him— surprise... joy?
“When we lost your PLB signal, I thought...” He shook his head and gave her a grim look. They sat in the sky lounge, in the upper level of his yacht, her showered and wrapped in a thick bathrobe, wearing a pair of yoga pants and a T-shirt that Elise had loaned her.
Jermaine had also given her a once-over. A former military corpsman, the man suggested that Austen suffered from dehydration and exhaustion.
Definitely, although she’d bounced back, it seemed, her auburn hair wet and falling in waves around her face. She sat curled on the sofa, holding a mug of hot lemon water, sipping it slowly, her green eyes betraying her hours in the sea. Tired and a little traumatized.
And he really just wanted to go back to that moment when he’d pulled her from the water and she fell into his arms.
And hung on.
Oh, she’d just sunk into him, her body trembling.
He’d held her, maybe for too long, but relief did that to a man, flushed away all of his walls, made him hang on, pull her close, and briefly let a part of his heart free.
She’d pushed herself away when they pulled up to the yacht, then managed to climb out of the dinghy on her own power, and by the time Declan joined her on the deck, she’d come back to herself.
So, note to self—don’t read too much into that moment.
Ivek had grabbed a towel and flung it over her shoulders, and Elise and Hunter also stood in the stern. He could thank Hunter for spotting the glint on the horizon, still so far away. It had vanished, but that plus the fading location of the PLB signal had sent them in the right direction.
Elise had brought her to the salon, where Jermaine had checked her over, then showed her to a stateroom.
Declan had stayed for a briefing from Captain Teresa. Pretty woman. Capable. He’d hired her only a month ago after his previous captain had gone no-show on him. She came with references from other yacht owners, and he’d been in a bit of a rush. But she seemed loyal and trustworthy.
“The engines have been running at peak for hours. We need to check the oil for any signs of degradation or contamination. And the cooling systems need to be examined to see if we have any leaks or blockages.”
“What about the hull and the prop?”
“Yes. I’ve sent our engineer to check for any stress cracks or abrasions that could have developed.”
“Where are we on fuel?”
“Low, sir, but if we take our time getting to Mariposa, we’ll make it.”
“Do whatever you need to do. I’d rather get there late than not at all.”
“Very good, sir.” She walked away.
For a second, Stein’s expression as he stood on the pier thrummed at Declan.
“Captain?”
Teresa had reached the salon door. Turned back.
“Did you radio the other search boat that we found her?”
“Yes, sir, right away. I also informed the Dominican Coast Guard.”
“Thank you.”
She nodded and left.
Jermaine arrived not long later with an update on dinner, and Declan asked to have it served in the sky lounge on the uppermost tier in the stern. A squall had passed over earlier, but the stars had come out, and maybe...
Aw, c’mon, Dec. The woman had just been traumatized. The last thing she’d want was a romantic dinner. “Ask Camille to keep it simple. Burgers, french fries, a salad.”
Elise and Hunter came in then, said they were exhausted and were getting sandwiches from the galley and retiring.
He might never be able to sleep again, despite twenty-four plus hours of pacing as they raced down to her location, watching the PLB signal, praying it didn’t vanish.
And then it did.
Now, as they sat in the sky lounge, the trauma over, he took a breath and looked at Austen. “What happened?”
“I got attacked by a shark.”
He stared at her.
“The shark got my tank, and it filled with water, was dragging me down, so I had to ditch it. The PLB was in the pocket of my BCD.” She’d pulled her legs up under the bathrobe. “Good thing I still had my safety sausage.”
“Hunter saw the sun on your tank a couple miles out—or thought he did. It matched up with your PLB, and then...” He blew out a breath. “I’m so glad you’re okay.”
Understatement, but things had sort of reverted to a reasonable distance between them.
“You hungry?”
“I could eat a whale.”
He chuckled. Okay then. “I asked Camille to make us burgers.”
“How did you know I was lost?” She set her hot lemon water down and combed back her hair with her fingers, then braided it into a thick rope. She wore a hair band on her wrist and affixed it to the end.
“I ran into Stein in Key West when I was picking up the Jamesons.”
“Oh, right.” She made a face. “I should probably tell him I’m okay.”
“Already done,” he said.
“Thanks.”
“How did?—”
“I end up in the middle of the Caribbean, miles from shore, like a buoy?”
“Yes.”
“I was diving. Alone.” She held up a hand. “Save it. Stein will already murder me.”
“He did seem... angry when I saw him.” Huh. Maybe that accounted for the great chill. But Stein had been ghosting him before that, so... “How is he, by the way? He almost seemed like he didn’t want to talk to me.”
She swallowed. Then, “Um, I guess he’s fine. Healing. I don’t know, Declan.” Then she looked away and sighed. Frowned.
Huh. That felt a little weird. As if a squall had blown in between them.
“So, you were diving and then what?”
She met his eyes with a wry twist to her face. “I came up, and my boat had floated away.” She wrinkled her nose, as in oops ! Maybe he’d imagined the tension. “I thought I’d secured the anchor, but... I can’t believe it. I came up from my dive and the boat had just... vanished.”
“I’ll have my captain put out a BOLO for it—see if any ships have spotted it.”
“It’s like having my home swept away in a hurricane. Everything I have is in that trawler, so...” She sighed. “But she’s survived worse, I guess. I bought her for a hundred dollars after Hurricane Irma. Fixed her up myself.”
“We’ll find her, Austen.” He didn’t know why he said that, but the urge to reassure her, to reach out and touch her hand, just swept over him.
Jermaine came into the salon. “Dinner is in the sky lounge, sir.”
Declan stood up. “Our chef is French. Her fries are amazing.” And then he held out his hand. More of a reflex than purposeful, but she took it and got up.
She looked at him, an emotion in her eyes that he couldn’t place. “I can’t believe you found me. I just...” She swallowed and her eyes filled. “Thank you for looking.”
“Of course.” His chest tightened a little, and he squeezed her hand. You mean something to me.
Just hold your horses, man . He offered a smile and gestured to the stairs to the sky lounge.
The squall had cleared the clouds from the sky, the night canopy a wash of brilliant white light, the moon shining on the water. Jermaine had set the shiny teak table with dinner, candlelight, and jazz playing on the speakers.
Good man.
The gas fire table was also lit, the flames contained inside glass walls, surrounded by a deep-cushioned sectional sofa.
“This is amazing, Declan.” She walked to the table, stared into the darkness. Took a breath, turned. “It’s a gorgeous boat.”
He pulled out one of the padded dining chairs for her.
“Thanks. I always wanted a boat. We lived by Medicine Lake when I was growing up, and sometimes my mom and I would go down and watch the boats or swim. I always thought it would be fun.” He sat down opposite her. “I guess my vision enlarged a little.”