Chapter 13
CHAPTER 13
B oone smiled at Tildi as he helped her get dressed as quickly as possible. It wasn’t easy. She’d heard the tension in Dutch’s voice as clearly as he had.
“What did he mean, problem ? What kind of problem?” She was doing her best to stay calm, but her pulse had sped up.
“I’m not sure, Bluebell,” he said. “But I’m sure it’s nothing we can’t handle. You are in some of the best hands in the world. And if you roll your eyes again, you’ll be sitting on a wooden seat writing lines for the next three days.”
The shade of pink filling her cheeks had become one of his favorite colors.
“Sorry, Daddy. But you have to admit that was a bit of an exaggeration. I mean, the best hands in the whole world?”
He didn’t say anything at first, just held her gaze with confidence. He’d told her the capabilities of the three men she had on board with her. Now he would show her.
“We need to get up top,” he said. Handing Puff to her, he took her hand and led her back up to the helm.
As soon as they made it out of the companionway, Boone realized Dutch had played down the situation. The sky around them was filled with dark thunderclouds, and the wind almost ripped the hat from his head. He turned the brim of his baseball cap to the back.
Never letting go of Tildi’s hand, he pulled her toward the helm, placing his body on the outside to shield her from the rain that was now coming down harder.
“Report,” he barked at Grif as they entered the helm.
“This thing came up out of nowhere,” Grif answered. “I’ve been watching it on the radar, but there must be a short somewhere because it went out right after y’all tore out of here. The last image I had showed us not coming in contact with it, but it obviously shifted course.”
Obviously was right. The wind was growing stronger by the second, kicking up the height of the waves.
“Are we going to be okay?” Tildi asked. She clutched Puff to her chest as she stared past him at the waves. “Why are the waves making that diamond pattern instead of all going in the same direction?”
He met Grif’s gaze as Dutch made it to the helm. “It means two storms met and are going for a dance. Don’t you worry about a thing.”
Dutch threw a small life jacket to Boone and cocked his head to Tildi before pulling three larger ones from the storage underneath a bench cushion.
“If there’s nothing to worry about, why do I have to wear one of these?” she asked in a tight voice.
“Because you are precious cargo, and I’m not willing to take even the slightest chance on you getting hurt,” he told her. She quieted, but didn’t look convinced. “Let’s get you situated at the table.”
He put her in the corner of the sectional seating at the table. That way, if it got worse, she’d have something to hold on to.
“I tried to locate the short so we could get radar back, but the wiring on this bucket isn’t like anything I’ve seen. I did find a weather radio, but no batteries.”
“So, what you’re sayin’ is we’re shit out of luck,” Grif said.
They dropped their voices to a level Tildi couldn’t hear, then Boone said, “We need to make a plan because it looks like it's gonna get worse before it gets better.”
“Agreed,” Dutch said. “Plus side, these things usually blow themselves out quickly.”
“Which way did it come in from?” Boone asked Grif.
“It came up behind us,” Grif said. “If it isn’t too large, we should be able to outrun it without too much trouble. We have to watch our speed, but as long as it doesn’t get any worse, we should be okay.”
His words evidently challenged Neptune. Golfball sized hail fell from the skies, pummeling the deck and hull of the yacht.
“Shit!” Dutch yelled, forgetting about not making Tildi more worried. “The ship isn’t going to stand up to that very long. Going slow just left the table.”
Grif’s jaw tightened, and his grip on the wheel, already firm, tightened to a death grip.
“Right. I’m going to get us out of here, but the trip may be rough for the time being. Bossman, you’re gonna want to get Tildi face down on the floor so she doesn’t get tossed around like a ragdoll.”
“On it,” Boone said, leaving Grif to focus on the waves and stumbling to his Little girl.
Her face was the color of paste, either from fear or seasickness. He didn’t have time to find out which.
“Tildi, I need you to lay on the floor on your tummy.” At her immediate protest, he held up his hand. “Daddy’s going to be with you, Bluebell. I don’t want you to get hurt in the rough seas.”
He didn’t like how the lightning now popped all over the place, either. But he kept that to himself. As soon as they were down, Grif sped up.
The man had not been kidding about it getting rougher. How a boat the size of Midnight’s Mistress could bounce from wave to wave like a rubber ball was beyond him. He held them in place but couldn’t stop them from bouncing on the hard deck floor.
“Da-daddy,” Tilde said. “I can’t breathe!”
He barely heard the words she uttered over the pouring rain and the pounding hail. He realized the problem as she flew completely off the floor at the next wave and crashed back down on her diaphragm and ribs.
He flipped to his back and pulled her face down on top of him. Locking his legs around the support pole for the table they were under, he held her pressed against him so the force of each bounce would be absorbed by his body.
“I want to go back downstairs,” she cried out.
He’d give anything if he could. She thought she’d be safer there, but if something happened, the lower levels might fill with water before he could get to her.
“I can’t let you do that, babygirl. I need you here with me so I can keep you safe.”
“Take this,” Dutch yelled and tossed a blanket their way.
Boone nodded his thanks and wrapped it around his shivering Little girl. “We’re going to be fine, Bluebell. We’ll be out of this storm in just a few more minutes. I’m so proud of you. You’re such a brave girl.”
“Oh, fuck!” Grif yelled. “Hold on!”
Boone knifed up high enough to look through the doorway leading to the seating area at the front of the deck. For a second, he couldn’t make sense of what he saw. Where was the horizon and sky? Then it hit him. A wall of water barreled toward them.
Fuck!
He wrapped his arms around Tildi and attempted to move them further under the table. Before he could maneuver around, the yacht shot off the crest of the wave under them and crashed into the next one head on.
Tildi screamed as the force jerked them forward. Freezing water flooded the helm as the wave tried to swallow them whole. The blanket made holding onto her difficult, but Boone managed.
But then the yacht pitched upward again, and all that water came rushing back through, this time toward the end. The pull of the wave rushing back to the sea ripped his babygirl from his arms and carried her out the open doorway and down the back of the deck toward the sea.
She screamed until the water cut her off, washing over her head and tumbling her away from him.
It was happening again. He was losing someone under his care and protection. He’d thought the loss of Cara was the most devastating thing that would ever happen to him. And until Tildi came into his life, it had been.
He’d been wrong. Losing Tildi would destroy him. He might as well follow her over the side and let the sea have him. Just the thought shot an indescribable pain through his chest.
Worse than losing people from his PJ cell. Worse than losing a brother or sister in arms they’d been sent in to rescue. Worse than when he’d lost both his parents.
He wasn’t about to let that happen. Not to his Tildi. Not ever.
With a roar of defiance at whatever force in this universe was fucking with them, he used the pole he’d held to reach his bluebell. Using the table pole like an Olympic swimmer used the pool wall, he pushed himself through the rushing water carrying away his babygirl.
She was rolling under the water like a barrel. She should be fighting against the water, but she was limp. His heart almost stopped at the realization she was unconscious.
She hit the side of the deck but the rushing water was lifting her from the floor. With three hard strokes of his legs, he grabbed her wrist right before she flipped over the rail and into the sea.
With her limp body draped across his arms, he pushed up far enough to get their faces out of the water until the force of the flow lessened. Standing, he struggled against the remaining water and carried her back to the helm. He laid her on the table and screamed, “Dutch! Little help!”
His friend was immediately at his side. Boone gave her mouth-to-mouth resuscitation while Dutch performed chest compressions. In the few seconds—seconds lasting an eternity—Tildi lay unresponsive, Boone died a thousand times. He would never pretend to himself or anyone else that he could live a day, an hour, or even a second without her again.
She was his life, and he’d make sure he did whatever it took every day to make sure she knew it.