In Too Deep (8 page)

“I—”

“Don't say anything.” He didn't want to hear her refusal. “We'll talk about it in a few days, okay?”

“Okay.”

The sound of the winch motor changed slightly as the weights tied to the cable came into view. Lily slowed the speed of the winch motor and Quinn grabbed the hook at the end of a line secured by the J-frame on the starboard side.

“Engine off,” he called to Rona at the wheel.

“Engine off,” she repeated, and the boat slowed.

Quinn leaned out over the water, hooked the weights and unsnapped them from the cable. Double checking to make sure everything was secure, he turned on another motor that lifted the weights out of the water through a series of pulleys attached to the J-frame. “Clear.”

“Engine ahead,” Rona returned.

They repeated the move twice more as additional weights came out of the ocean water. Each time, Lily was right there, giving him the extra hands and extra leverage to make the job easier. They stowed away the weights and prepared the J-frame for the water sampling equipment that would soon reach the surface. Minutes later, the rosette rose out of the water. Four feet in diameter and nearly as long, the rosette held a dozen tubular Niksen bottles that held the water samples. The whole apparatus was heavy and awkward to handle.

“I could use some help here,” Quinn called to Patrick and Will.

Will came out of the bridge, zipping up his coat, while Patrick headed toward them.

“You know the rules. Put on a life jacket and your wet gear,” Quinn reminded Will.

“For five minutes of work?” he complained.

“Go.” Quinn attached the cable from the J-frame to the rosette.

“I've got it,” Will said, shrugging into a life jacket. He turned on the motor attached to the J-arm.

The rosette, though, was still attached to the cable and winch used to bring it out of the water. The tiny amount of slack in the line vanished. The heavy rosette quivered between the taut cables.

“Stop!” Lily and Quinn shouted at the same instant.

The line broke. The cable attached to the winch suddenly had too much slack, and the rosette dropped back into the water.

The loose line that had been run through the J-frame tore free and whipped across the boat. The end of the cable struck the deck, then arced in the other direction. Lily dove to the deck, the line snapping where she'd stood an instant before. Quinn took cover to keep from being hit by the whipping line.

On her hands and knees, Lily inched across the deck toward the winch attached to the J-frame.

“Stay down!” Quinn called. “I'll get it.”

She ignored him, and the cable snapped again, barely missing her. Quinn felt five years come off his life. The cable could take out an eye or worse. Patrick and Will retreated to the bridge, where they crouched in relative safety.

The cable cracked against the roof of the bridge, then hit the port side. With each turn around the winch drum the line whipped in a new direction.

Rona throttled down the boat. It rocked heavily in the swells driven higher by the storm following them home.

Picking her moment, Lily slid on her belly across the slick deck and hit the brake for the winch. It came to a grinding stop. She sat up and leaned against the side of the boat.

The cable whipped toward her.

“Lily, duck!”

She jerked out of the way, her arms covering her face. But it was too late. The cable caught her square across the back, knocking her the rest of the way to the deck.

Swearing, Quinn rushed toward her, sliding across the wet deck and falling before he reached her. She was so still.

He touched her back. “Lily, talk to me.”

“Damn, that hurt.” She lifted her head.

Quinn reached for her, thankful for the layers of clothes that had protected her. Her wet gear looked as though someone had taken a knife to it, but the jacket underneath was intact.

“You okay?” he asked, holding her down by the shoulders when she would have stood.

“Never better.”

He suspected the words were to keep him from knowing that she was scared.

“Stay there a minute.” He touched her face. “Rest.”

He stood, his attention first on the cable, which slithered across the wet deck, then on Will.

Quinn stalked toward the bridge. “You damn fool. You could have gotten somebody killed.”

“I didn't think the line would snap.” Will backed up a step.

“You don't think, period.” He glared at the younger man. “Safety comes first, damn it. Go put on your wet gear.”

“I don't need it.”

“Get on your gear and get out here. Like it or not, I need your help.”

With quick efficient movements, his temper barely in check, Quinn tied off the cable. He went to the stern and peered into the water. It was dark as a nightmare, and he could see nothing of the rosette though he could hear it banging against the side of the boat. He reversed the direction on the winch, then turned it back on. First order of business was to get the equipment deep enough that it wouldn't damage the boat or have the line get tangled in the propeller.

Lily joined him at the gunwale, her gaze following the cable through the A-frame.

How the hell were they going to get the rosette out of the
water without the extra leverage the J-frame would have provided.

“As soon as we get it to the surface of the water,” Lily was saying, “we can snag it with one of the outriggers.”

“I've never tested anything this heavy on them,” Quinn told her. “I'm not sure it will hold.”

“You used to fish for halibut on this boat, didn't you, Rona?” Lily called to her.

“Sure did,” Rona answered. “We'd haul up a barn door every once in a while.”

“Barn door?” Quinn cocked an eyebrow.

Lily grinned. “As in the size of. If the outrigger will support a three-hundred-pound fish, it should handle the rosette.”

They had a basic plan figured out by the time Will, finally clad in his wet gear, joined them. Lily turned on the winch. Slow as the speed was, Quinn cringed with every turn of the cable around the drum. Thinking about the way the equipment had banged against the hull, the boat would require a thorough check before they took it out again.

“Get over here, Will,” Quinn commanded.

He came toward the stern, everything in his posture indicating he didn't like the request. Tough, Quinn thought. Getting the rosette out of the water was going to take all three of them, and if there was a way to do it without risking Lily, he'd do so in a heartbeat.

At last the rosette appeared.

“Winch off,” Quinn called.

“Winch off,” Lily repeated, instantly shutting it off. Will stood behind them, his arms loose at his sides as though he had no idea of how to help.

The swells were high enough to make grabbing hold of the rosette with the hook nearly impossible.

“Get out of the way,” Patrick said to Will. “I'll help.” Still looking as though he might throw up again at any second, he joined them at the stern.

“Help me hold the rosette still,” Quinn said to Patrick, “so I can get her attached to the outrigger.”

Quinn leaned far out of the boat, stretching, and still not able to reach it. Without asking, Lily was there next to him, stretching out behind the boat, her hands steadier by far than Patrick's. She seemed to realize the moment the swells lifted the rosette a little closer, and she made a grab for it.

The boat rode high on the swell for an instant, then made a slip to the bottom. Will slammed into Lily. She caught herself, but her arm skidded across the wet surface of the gunwale.

Before Quinn could catch her, she tumbled into the water and disappeared.

Q
uinn stretched far over the side of the boat, searching the inky water for any sign of Lily's bright yellow wet gear. One second. A wave sloshed against the stern.
C'mon, Lily where are you?
Two seconds. He fought the urge to jump in after her. She was wearing a life vest, so she should have instantly bobbed to the surface. Three seconds.
Damn it, Lily, show me where you are.

His heart crawled up his throat and choked him.

Behind him, he heard Will and Patrick arguing and Rona's curt, “Stuff it.”

The boat slid into the trough of a wave, and another bitterly cold spray of water spilled over the gunwale. Black water and nothing, nothing, nothing…and then Lily popped to the surface, the yellow and orange gear bright as a beacon. Only she was yards too far away to reach.

His muscles coiled to jump in after her even as his mind cautioned him that that wasn't the best way to help her.

A life saver sailed over Quinn's head. From the corner of his eye, he saw Rona held the line attached to it.

Lily grabbed the lifesaver. Together, Quinn and Rona pulled her toward the boat. Lily's knit cap had disappeared, and her blond hair was plastered against her head. Her normally fair skin was white. She hooked her arms through the center of the donut and let them do the work. Seconds passed—decades passed—before she was close enough for Quinn to reach.

He leaned out of the boat and pulled her on board. She hadn't been in the water sixty seconds, but her teeth were chattering and her lips were blue. Cursing, he scooped her into his arms and carried her toward the bridge.

“I can walk,” she was saying between chatters.

“Save your energy.” Inside he set her down in the middle of the floor where a puddle immediately formed. He pulled the vinyl coat over her head. “Gotta get you out of these wet clothes and warm.”

“I'll help her,” Rona said, touching his shoulder. “Go get that damn rosette on board so we can head for home.”

Ignoring Rona, he slipped the suspenders that held up Lily's vinyl pants off her shoulders. He couldn't leave her. Not until he knew—

“Go.” This time Rona was more insistent, pushing him toward the door of the bridge.

His glance locked with Lily's.

“I'll be okay,” she said. Her reassuring smile turned lopsided as she shivered again.

The fear uncoiled a little, making room for his temper. He turned on his heel and went through the door where the wind and a cold spray of water hit him.

Patrick and Will were squared off at the stern. Patrick was shouting, “You pushed her, you idiot.”

“I slid. It was an accident.”

“Like hell.”

Quinn stepped between the two. “Save it.” He looked from one to the other, Patrick's accusation echoing through his head. “You're going to do what I say, exactly as I say, and without one damn bit of discussion. Got it?”

Patrick nodded, and Will stuck out his chin, his expression making him look about twelve. About the age he was acting.

For the third time, they attempted to bring the water sampling equipment out of the water, and finally they were successful. The steel frame containing the Niksen bottles showed a couple of dents, but appeared to have done the job of protecting the bottles.

Step-by-step, Quinn instructed Patrick and Will. Of the two, Patrick was the most help. To his credit, Will followed instructions to the letter though he didn't have a clue about what needed to be done. Finally they got the rosette settled on deck and strapped down. As soon as they were finished, Patrick leaned over the gunwale, sick once again.

Normally, Rona would have had the boat under way as soon as they had all the gear on board. Instead they remained where they were, the boat rocking amid the swells. As they finished tying the apparatus down, rain began to fall. Quinn knocked on the bridge door and Rona opened it a second later.

“We're all set,” Quinn said. “Anytime you're ready to head for home, let's go.” His gaze went past Rona to Lily who had her back turned. She was dressed in a pair of faded jeans and a flannel shirt that were too big for her—evidently Rona's. At least they were dry.

He pulled his wet gear off, automatically hanging the pants and the jacket on a peg.

“You okay?” he asked Lily, who was briskly toweling her hair.

She turned around. Her skin had no more color than a sheet, her eyes were huge and dark. Her teeth were still chattering, but at least her lips were no longer blue.

“Thanks to Rona, I'm better.” She wadded the towel.

“Good.” He took it from her and flung it in the direction of the pegs that held their jackets and other gear.

Will came inside and shrugged out of his coat. Without saying a word, he retreated to a bench at the back of the bridge.

“Whatever the hell is going on between you and Patrick is affecting your work and everyone's safety.” Quinn paused until Will met his gaze. “Solve it.”

“Or what?” Will challenged.

“You'll be looking for a different job,” Quinn said, striving to keep the irritation out of his voice. “Consider this a warning.”

Will pulled a CD player out of his pack and snapped the earphones over his head. He jacked the sound up high enough that the driving rhythm could be heard over the drone of the motor.

Rona stepped behind the wheel and eased the throttle forward, and the boat began to move. She adjusted the direction until they were once again headed toward Kantrovich Island.

Patrick stood under the awning, protected from the worst of the downpour, but not from the gusts of wind.

Quinn opened the door. “Feeling any better?”

Patrick managed a grin. “Not much.”

“Maybe getting warm will help.” Quinn nodded for him to come into the bridge.

The kid met his eyes briefly, then ducked in and stripped off his wet gear. Closing his eyes, he settled on the opposite side of the bench from Will.

Quinn sat next to Lily on the bench. Despite the blanket she'd wrapped around herself, she continued to shiver. Without a word, he picked her up, sat in the corner where she had wedged herself, then settled her across his lap. When she glanced at him, he tried to smile.

“I'm sharing body heat,” he said. “An old sailor's trick.”

Despite her chattering teeth, she smiled. “Is that what you call it?”

She made no struggle to move away, but instead gradually relaxed, her body subtly heavier against his, though she still shivered. He braced one foot on the bench with his knee bent, then shifted her until he could tuck her bare feet under the blanket. The memory of warming her cold feet slammed through him and brought with it a rush of arousal. No way
could he justify his body's reaction to her when he had insisted that she forget that they'd nearly made love.

None of them spoke for quite a while, the only sounds being the steady rumble of the boat's engines and the occasional chatter across the communications radio. Patrick and Will ignored each other, which made Quinn wonder what had been said before he interrupted them. Whether Will had pushed Patrick or not, the result was the same—Lily had ended up in the water. They were damn lucky things had turned out as well as they had.

The rain fell harder, and Rona switched on the wiper blades, which didn't do a lot to improve visibility. She glanced at Quinn.

“You two doing okay over there?”

“She's finally stopped shivering.”

“
She's
also wide awake,” Lily said, “so don't talk about me like I'm not here.”

“Feisty, too,” Quinn said, managing a smile. The awful constriction in his chest finally began to ease.

Rona's attention returned to the rain-slathered windshield. “I'd say she has a right to be.”

Quinn bent his head, trying to see Lily's expression. “You're feeling better?”

“I'm warm for the first time all day.”

“Then stay right where you are,” he invited.

To his surprise, she did. He only wished he'd had altruistic motives instead of the simple need to touch her and to pretend that he had the right to comfort her, to protect her.

He held her for the next two hours, and at some point she fell asleep. When Rona guided the boat into the slip below the dock, rain still poured cold with the promise of winter, gusts of wind buffeting the craft. Quinn reluctantly let go of Lily and then went outside to lash the boat in place while Rona shut things down inside.

He had been right about one thing, Lily concluded as she watched him go about the business of securing the boat for the night. His body heat had warmed her, and as soon as he
was gone she shivered. She slipped on her wet, clammy shoes, suspecting it would be days before they'd be dry enough to wear again. Worse than being cold, she felt totally wrung out. She'd love to go home, stand under a hot shower for about an hour, and do her best to banish those awful seconds in the water.

She reached for the vinyl jacket, then pulled it apart when she saw the tear across the back.

“Looks like somebody took a knife to it,” Will said, his tone harsh. He put on his coat. “Pretty damn scary.”

“Yes,” Lily said, remembering the instant when the cable had struck her. Looking again at the jacket, she knew how lucky she was that the line hadn't caught her across the back of her head or on the face. That whipping cable could have seriously injured one of them.

“Since it was your fault, you might at least tell her you're sorry,” Rona said to Will.

“How was I to know the cable would snap?” he asked.

“Common sense, maybe?” Rona said.

“I'm outta here.” Will paused at the door and looked back at Lily. “You gonna be okay?”

“Fine.”

“That one is pretty useless,” Rona said after he left. She handed Lily a vinyl poncho. “Take this. It will keep you drier.”

Lily slipped the garment over her shoulders. “Thanks.”

She came out of the boat and stood under the awning for a second, watching Quinn work. His movements were controlled, efficient, done with the practiced ease of repetition.

During the last three weeks the man had been polite, professional, and friendly—big-brother friendly. Except, now and then she'd catch something in his storm-colored eyes so heated, so personal, she felt sure he hadn't been able to follow his own advice.
Forget this morning ever happened.

Having him hold her the past couple of hours was the last thing she had expected. Given his clear ideas of what he
wanted in the way of a relationship, she'd be a fool to read too much into that.

“See you tomorrow,” she called to him.

“Hold on,” he said. “I'm driving you home.”

“You don't have to do that. I'm really okay.” The truth was, if she was honest with herself, having him take her home sounded good.

“Maybe.” He came toward her, his eyes intense. “But tonight, I'm driving you.”

“But then my car will be here and—”

“Don't worry about it. I'll pick you up in the morning.”

“Okay.” She suspected some perverse sense of duty was motivating him, but she didn't care since spending a few more minutes with him was what she wanted.

“I can wrap this up,” Patrick said.

“You're sure?”

The younger man nodded, his glance seeking out Lily. “I am sorry about the accident,” he said. “Both of them.”

“I know,” she said, pulling the hood of the poncho over her head and wondering where Will had disappeared to. It wasn't fair that Patrick get stuck with all the work. “Get some rest. Tomorrow will be a better day.”

“It sure as hell better be,” Quinn muttered, taking her by the hand and leading her through the rain. “Today's nonsense could have gotten somebody killed.”

“But it didn't.” She squeezed his hand and stopped walking. When he looked down at her, she repeated, “It didn't.”

“Who could have gotten killed?” came a male voice from the deep shadows beneath the warehouse eave.

She started, and Quinn pulled her closer to his side.

A man stepped away from the building, a trenchcoat belted at his waist, its collar turned up. Will Baker stood next to him. Lily glanced from Will to the man whose face was hidden by the bill of a baseball cap. He tipped his hat back, and Lily recognized him. The U.S. Marshal assigned to her when she had been in protective custody last spring.

 

“Cal?”

He smiled and extended his hand. “How are you, Lily?”

She shook it. “What are you doing here?” He'd been calling every few weeks since the trial ended, but she hadn't expected to see him. “When did you arrive? If I'd known you were coming—”

“I didn't realize the ferry came only once a week.” Cal glanced from her to Quinn, then offered his hand again. “Cal Springfield,” he said. “I'm a friend of Lily's from her days at the university.”

“Quinn Morrison.” He didn't release Lily's other hand as he shook Cal's. “You're not here to steal her back, are you?”

“I, uh, what?”

“To the university,” Quinn supplied. “I don't think we can get along without her here.”

“Glad to hear it,” Cal said.

Lily studied him, wishing he had told Quinn that he was a U.S. Marshal. Since he hadn't…maybe there was another case he was working on. The instant that thought hit, she dismissed it. Lynx Point wasn't exactly the bustling center of anywhere.

“What are you doing here?” Lily asked.

“One of the students at the research station said you were doing fieldwork today, so I figured I'd hang out until you got back,” he said, completely avoiding her question.

A chill crawled down her spine that had nothing to do with the rain. Now that the trial was over, he was her contact until they were certain the threats from last spring were all neutralized—Cal's word, not hers. He'd be here in person only if there was some kind of problem with Franklin Lawrence. And since he had just lied to Quinn about how he knew her, she couldn't ask him.