Windswept (5 page)

Another few seconds…

Then she couldn’t do it any more. She tore out of his grasp and kicked for her life. Kicked for the surface and a breath of fresh air. Her ears wailed and her lungs burned and her eyes bulged and—

She didn’t just shoot to the surface, she shot clear through it and a couple of feet into the air, gasping. The water beside her erupted in a great wave and Ryan was there, too, breaching like a mighty orca. Heaving for breath, they both flopped around like a couple of fish who’d forgotten to swim. She couldn’t quite get her inhales and exhales timed right; one started before the other finished, making her cough and splutter and spit. Which really didn’t matter, because there was air, dry air, all around her. A whole universe of it. The sun beat down from the sky, and it was a glorious day there on the surface. A glorious day.

Her hand got stuck on something, and it took a minute to comprehend why. Her fingers were laced through Ryan’s. Not feeling like they’d let go anytime soon, either.

“You okay?” he gasped.

She managed a weak nod.

He shook his head. “Really okay?”

She touched her own ribs as if that would tell her if she was bursting inside or not. But surely if she was going to die of the bends, she’d feel it, right?

“I’m okay.” She nodded. “You?”

His nod was so haggard, she pulled him closer. He’d had less air to go on than her.

“Really okay?” Now she was the one grabbing him by both shoulders, studying him up close. No sign of bleeding around his nose or ears, thank God.

The right side of his mouth curled into a tiny grin. Teensy-tiny, like it might not be allowed. The same grin that had captivated her from the very start, because Ryan smiling was like a statue coming to life and sensing its surroundings for the very first time.

“I’m okay.”

His face was pale, but his eyes were bright, and she gulped the sight in along with huge lungfuls of air. Like she couldn’t survive without both.

“Jesus, Mia, what happened?”

Blurry images flooded her mind. The diver. The struggle. The flashing knife. It all welled up until she was gasping as much as when she’d surfaced seconds ago. She shook her head. Not going there now. Definitely not going there.

Her body felt like lead, and her gear seemed twice as heavy as it had been at the start of the dive. She had to get out of the water, fast. Where was Lucky with the dive boat?

“This way,” Ryan grunted, tugging her arm.

The small dinghy moored off to the right wasn’t the dive launch, but it was the closest thing afloat, and it sure would do for now. She forced her arms into a weak paddling motion. God, if her swim coach saw her now…

Those hundred yards seemed like a thousand, and she had to stop to float on her back twice along the way, but she made it. She grabbed the oar strapped along the side of the dinghy and hung on like her life depended on it. Pressed her forehead against the rubber and made a little cave where she didn’t have to see, feel, think, or do anything but breathe. Everything was okay. She was okay.

Ryan was shoulder-to-shoulder with her, a solid, safe mass. Whether it was his proximity or sheer exhaustion that kept her from losing it completely didn’t matter right now. Only that she was okay.

His arm circled her shoulders, and that helped, too. The sound of his breath, the warmth of his touch. Him rubbing her back and whispering,
Thank God you’re okay.
Touching her, making sure she was all there.

She looped one arm around him and hid her face in his shoulder. Held him tightly and wondered what it was that had ever driven them apart.

A little wave splashed in between them, and she looked up. Right into his eyes, which were filled with a logjam of words that couldn’t quite make their way out.

“Where’s Lucky when you need him?” he finally murmured, looking around.

She kept her head down, reluctant for Lucky or anyone else to come roaring in right now. Another minute of breathing in Ryan and she just might forget what had her so mad at him. Forget that little bit of bad and remember all the good.

“There he is.” Ryan lifted an arm to wave.

She looked up, scanning the area.
Neptune’s Revenge,
the environmental activists’ ship, was the biggest thing in sight, and the next nearest thing afloat. Hans’ dive launch was a few hundred feet to the right, where she could make out the first guests clambering up the stern, wondering, perhaps, where she and Ryan had wandered off to. Hans would joke it off in front of the guests, but he’d have a stern word with her later. What would she say? Would anyone believe her?

I got mixed up and swam off after a stranger who turned on me with a knife…

The image flashed in her mind, so near and real, she gasped. The man had been face-to-face with her, all anger and frustration. What had she ever done to him?

“Did you see the man?” She gripped Ryan’s arm.

His face clouded. “The one who cut your air? I did. And if I’d been a little closer, he’d have had that knife stuck between his ribs.”

He meant it, too; she could see it in the flash of his eyes.

“What the hell was he doing, attacking you like that?”

“I don’t know. I just swam up, thinking he was one of the guests, and he pulled a knife on me!”

“What kind of guy pulls a knife on another diver?”

She was wondering the same thing. “What kind of guy dives alone at those depths?”

“What was he up to, anyway?”

The words were barely out of Ryan’s mouth when a blinding yellow-red flash filled the sky, together with a clap of thunder. Mia was slammed against the dinghy, shaken nearly senseless. Which way was up? Where was Ryan? What was going on?

A strong hand grabbed her vest and pulled her underwater, and she kicked hard, imagining the attacker back for another try. But it wasn’t the other diver. It was Ryan, dragging her under the dinghy before letting her pop up on the other side. Keeping an arm over her head like a shield against the fiery bits of…something hailing down on her from above.

The dinghy rocked up and down from a shock wave, but Ryan kept her sheltered long after the roaring in her ears faded. She shook her head, but a dull ring remained along with a steady, crackling noise not too far away. She blinked and peeked out around the shelter of the dinghy.

“Oh my God,” she breathed, watching flames lick over the listing hull of
Neptune’s Revenge.
“It blew up,” she said, feeling numb. “It blew up.”

Ryan shook his head. “It was blown up.”

“Blown up? But who would do such a thing—” She cut herself off, because she knew. The diver she’d chased down — that’s why he attacked her.

The outrage in Ryan’s face turned to concern. He touched her cheek, and when he drew back, his fingers were smeared with blood. Her blood?

“Jesus, Mia, are you okay?”

It was just a bloody nose caused by being flung against the oar of the dinghy, but nobody would listen. Not Ryan, whose eyes went wide as if Mia were showing the first sign of the bends. Not Lucky, either, or Hans, when they finally honed in on Ryan’s shouts and motored the launch over. The flow of blood slowed down by the time she wobbled onboard, but that didn’t stop Stanley from zooming in on her face. She might even have smacked the camera out of his hands if it weren’t for a comment that stopped her dead in her tracks.

“We can make the evening news with this footage!” he exclaimed.

Evening news. Unexpected camera footage. Of her.

Bile rose in her throat along with memories. A whole lot of ugly memories.

Something at her side moved, cougar-fast, and all the guests cried out.

It was Ryan, snatching the camera out of Stanley’s hands. Ryan, leaning over Stanley like a very angry Zeus clutching a lightning bolt. Ryan, stepping to her rescue.

Again.

“Get. The. Camera. Out. Of. Her. Face.” He growled it, so low and menacing that everyone went still. Deathly still.

A very silent minute ticked by, finally broken by Stanley’s squeaked, “Sorry.”

Ryan muttered something and dropped to his knees in front of her, cupping her face with both hands.

“No more diving for you,” he murmured, stroking her cheeks with both thumbs. “Not today. Not tomorrow. Not for the rest of the week.”

“You can’t tell me what to do,” she peeped.

He put on that
watch-it-lady
, New York cop thing he did so well and dabbed at her face with a towel. So tenderly that she had the sensation of bubbles expanding in her bloodstream — in a good way. The next thing she knew, she was drooping against his chest. And damn it, she couldn’t quite summon the willpower to pull away.

All the way back to shore, Ryan watched her with eyes that swore murder and damnation at anyone who came close. Which included the ambulance crew when they checked her out, and the police, once she was finally proclaimed in good health and hauled to headquarters for questioning.

Wait a minute. Questioning?

She’d barely had a chance to change out of her swimwear before they brought her in, and there she was, blinking at two Dutch officers from across a Formica table. The man was tall and fair, the woman dark-haired and dark-skinned. Both of them studied Mia for some sign of…of a lie?

“Wait a minute. I didn’t do anything,” she blurted.

The female officer crossed her arms. “You were diving in the immediate area of
Neptune’s Revenge
right before it exploded.”

“So was the man who attacked me with a knife,” she shot back.

“The man you
say
attacked you with a knife.”

“A man with dark eyes and a blue hooded wetsuit and UltraFlow fins…. Wait a minute.” Her heart thumped for a couple of beats before she managed to continue. “Why would I make something like that up?”

The male officer cut back in. “No one is saying you made anything up. We’re just trying to gather the facts.”

Facts. Like a ship blowing up practically in her face.

“What about the crew?” she blurted. God, please, don’t let her have witnessed someone’s death.

The officer shook his head. “Most of the crew was ashore. The two left on duty are in critical condition.”

She hugged herself.
Please let them be all right. Please let them be all right.
“Where’s Ryan?”

“Your friend, the police diver? The former Navy man?”

“Your friend, the expert in underwater explosives?” added the female officer, lifting her eyebrows.

Her friend, the expert in
what?

Despite her shock, Mia found herself shooting to her feet. “My friend who saved my life!” she half shouted. Came within a hair of thumping a fist on the table as she said it, too. How could these cops possibly think Ryan was guilty of blowing up a ship? “He would never do anything like that!”

“No one is accusing your friend of anything,” the man said, exchanging glances with his partner. Glances that said,
Yet. Not accusing yet.

“This is ridiculous,” she huffed. “He was with the dive group the entire time.”

“Believe me, we are checking out his alibi.”

The woman’s look said,
Yours, too.

Mia gaped at one police officer, then the other. Jesus, she wasn’t just a witness to them. She was a suspect.

“But I didn’t do anything! Ryan didn’t do anything!”

“Why don’t you just start at the beginning again?” the male officer suggested. His tone was even and patient, as if he had all evening to wait for her to trip over a lie.

Her throat went dry; her heart pounded. She ended up recounting the events of the day so many times, it felt like a week had gone by. Descending, following the diver in the distance, getting attacked. Barely making it to the surface before the ship exploded.

Her blood ran cold just thinking about it. The diver she’d tangled with had planted the bomb, but no one seemed to believe her.

“Can you describe the diver?”

“I told you! A man with dark eyes and UltraFlow fins.”

“That’s it?”

“He was wearing a hooded wetsuit and a dive mask!”

The officers looked unimpressed. “Nothing else?”

“I was too busy concentrating on other things!” she protested. “Like his knife.”

The knife she could still picture flashing before her, even if she closed her eyes.

The interrogation went on and on, followed by a long hour in which she was left to sit, wonder, and plan calls to her aunt the lawyer. Then finally — finally! — the door opened and she was released to Hans and Lucky, who’d been waiting outside.

“I made a few calls,” Hans said, patting her arm. At least he believed her. “They’re letting you go.”

“But they took my passport!”

Lucky nodded gravely. “You’ll get it back. Believe me, we’ll clear this up.”

“Let’s go.” Hans pointed to the door.

She dug in her heels. “What about Ryan?”

“They’re still questioning him.”

“But he didn’t do anything!”

Lucky cocked his head at her. “You know him, I think.” It was a statement, not a question.

“You know him? How well?” Hans asked, sounding like a disapproving father.

She got stuck, trying to answer that one. Should she say,
Biblically? Sort of? Just a little bit?
Over the month they’d spent together, she felt like she’d gotten to know Ryan well. Really well. Not so much the facts, maybe, but as a person. He preferred listening to talking. Open air to confined spaces. She knew that he held doors open for little old ladies and tipped like a man who knew what it meant to work long hours on his feet. That he took a long time to get to sleep some nights, when he held her extra close. That he didn’t laugh often, but when he did, it was like the sun coming out after a long, gray winter.

What else did a girl need to know about a guy to decide he was all right?

Other than the fact that he was a former Navy man trained in the use of underwater explosives and possibly other things, like killing giant squid with his bare hands. And that when push came to shove, she didn’t mean as much to him as she’d let herself believe, because what he’d said about her to his friends…