Chapter 43
She caught part of the brass railing, but her wet fingers were slipping. “Braden!”
Cressida held on as fire lit up the night. Beneath her, she assumed Trent was getting away with Malloy and Dax and more of their crew.
Braden’s face appeared above her, and he reached for her hand, gripped it. She thrust the other one toward him and he grabbed them both, pulling her up and back onboard, even though the vessel’s integrity had been breached.
Braden held on to her as they clung to the railing. There was no gaining their footing with the angle of the slippery deck.
He pressed his finger to his ear.
“Status? Anyone?”
Braden held her gaze, then said, “Cole’s alive but took shrapnel to his leg. Hawk has a broken arm.”
And Braden’s arm continued to bleed. He needed to put a tourniquet on it and fast.
“And Diggins?” he asked, grimacing. Another wince, then he said, “He’s in the RIB. They want us to get in the water, and Diggins will pick us up.”
He sat closer to her, both of them clinging to the railing. Cressida shivered with cold and fear, for her life and for Braden’s. He could bleed out.
Braden spoke again but to his small team. “We’re trapped. I’m not sure we can safely enter the water from here. The Coast Guard is coming. Let them know we need help.”
The deck leveled, offering relief.
He grabbed her hand. “Let’s go while we can.”
Together they raced toward the bow on the top level, near the superstructure. Behind them, the crane clanked and metal twisted, and then it crashed into the ocean.
He turned to her and gripped her shoulders. The look he gave her terrified her more than she had thought possible.
“I had one job. Just one,” he said. “And that’s to get you out alive. So here’s what we’re going to—”
Another explosion pulled them apart. Cressida reached for the railing again—the only thing to hold on to—as a fissure opened up in the deck. But Braden hadn’t been able to grab on because he’d pushed her forward to safety. He slid toward the fissure.
“Braden!”
“Jump. Just get into the ocean. Swim to the Coast Guard cutter. Just do not fall back into Trent or Malloy’s hands. You can do this.”
“No, I’m not leaving you.”
“Cressida, you can’t help me. Don’t let my effort be for nothing. Get off before it’s too late.”
“You’re injured. I’m not leaving you.” But what could she do? All her bravado to take down this operation and Trent had done it himself. She’d been prepared to give her life, but she hadn’t been prepared for anyone else to die.
No, Lord, not Braden.
She blinked against the sting of tears and rain. “Don’t leave me . . .”
A swell rocked the vessel, and it shifted, then Braden disappeared into the opening as flames burst around them. Cressida blinked, unable to believe her eyes.
“No, Braden, no!” God, please . . . please don’t let him die.
This big salvage vessel was taking on water, and some floors were up in flames.
With the deck tilted at such a steep angle and slick with sea spray and rain, she couldn’t make her way even if she tried.
She couldn’t help Braden. She couldn’t even help herself.
Only God could help him. She regretted every moment she’d been angry with him for what she considered his betrayal. He’d only ever been protecting her.
Bright lights shone on her from the Coast Guard cutter. Above her a helicopter hovered, also shining lights. Someone slid down on a harness toward her.
If only they’d arrived mere moments before. The man reached toward her to secure her and hoist her back up. The vessel shifted abruptly, knocking her off-balance as she reached forward. She flipped over the rail and dropped toward the ocean.
Too shocked to even scream, she hit the cold, rough water.
She’d be sucked under with the suction of the salvage boat as it went down if she didn’t swim hard to get away.
Cressida gulped air, fighting the giant waves that might be the end of her.
Hands gripped her and she fought, remembering Braden’s words.
“Do not fall back into Trent or Malloy’s hands.”
But it was a Coast Guard swimmer with a flotation device. “Ma’am, I’ve got you.”
“There’s a man. He fell into the ship. That part of the boat is underwater. Please save him. Please. You have to find him.”
“We’ll do our best,” he shouted. “Let me assist you out of this water before you get hypothermia.”
All the hope, all the energy, drained out of her, and she let the Coast Guard swimmer bring her to the cutter.
The Kraken—the same Coast Guard cutter she’d seen on her approach to Hidden Bay.
Blankets were wrapped around her. Someone tried to usher her belowdecks and out of the rain, but she refused.
“I need to see you find Braden Sanders. Is someone even looking for him?”
Dad’s words rushed back to her.
“The sea never gives back what it claims.”
No, Lord, please, no.
I don’t accept that. The sea is going to give Braden back to me alive and well. He doesn’t belong to the ocean as someone lost at sea to be remembered, or worse . . . forgotten!
“We’re doing everything we can to find him.” The familiar voice sent shockwaves through Cressida. Dizzy and wobbling, trembling with fear and exhaustion, Cressida turned to face the woman. “Mom?”
Octavia Dane stood before her in the rain, her hair wet, mascara smudged down her cheeks. “I got your message.”
Message? What message? Oh . . . the one where she’d told her that she forgave her. Through a shaky voice and tearful sobs, Cressida spoke. “I’m sorry that I didn’t listen. I’m sorry about everything.”
Mom wrapped an arm around her shoulder and leaned close. “It’s on me. I could have handled it much better. That’s my job, after all. You’re my everything, and when it comes to you, I’m not such a great liaison.”
Were those tears in her mother’s eyes, mingling with the rain?
Cressida hugged her, cried on her shoulder.
“Braden will be fine,” Mom said in her ear. “These guys are the best. They’ll find him. Now, please, let’s get you inside and out of the rain. You want to be well for him.”
She pulled away. “What are you talking about?”
“I can tell in your voice he means something to you, doesn’t he?”
“Yes . . .” She didn’t know when it happened, but she’d gone from like to something much deeper.
“And you don’t know this, but he might have fallen for you when he saw your picture on my desk. It’s one reason I sent him to Hidden Bay.”
Cressida tried not to let those words anger her again. Being angry was no way to live.
“Ma’am.” A Coast Guard officer approached Octavia. “We have news. Detective Sanders has been retrieved by a man called Captain Diggins, and they’re bringing him aboard now.”
Cressida didn’t like the tone in which the officer said the words. “Retrieved. What does that mean? Is he okay?”
“I’m uncertain of his condition. We have medics aboard to assist. We’re bringing aboard several survivors of the sinking vessel who are in need of medical attention.”
Cressida rushed from her mother and the serviceman to find Braden.
“I have to know that he’s still alive!” She hurried along the side of the deck where Diggins was climbing up and spotted a man laid out on a gurney. His eyes were closed, and he looked blue and unmoving.
Braden . . .
Cressida sank to her knees next to him and pressed her mouth against his cold lips. A hand squeezed her shoulder, then cupped the back of her neck, pulling her closer.
“You’re alive,” she said against his lips.
“What, me? No. I couldn’t die before knowing what it would be like to kiss you.”