Turn the Tide Read online

  “Eric?” she hissed.

  No answer. She spun. “ERIC!”

  “Here.” He was beside her without a sound. A ghost in the water. She went limp with relief and barely held back from throwing her arms around him. “Can you swim?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Boat’s by the southern leg. Come on.” Southern leg? How could he tell where they were? She set off after him.

  It was cold as hell, but at least here she was in her element. She may not have run for years, but swimming was something she did every day. And the water felt safe, like shelter.

  Stroke, stroke, breathe, stroke, stroke, breathe. She could do this all day. To San Elias Island if she had to.

  A faint pop disrupted her rhythm, followed by a splash. Small, but—

  Another splash…and another. More shots?

  “Go right!”

  She swerved, got beneath the rig, and cut through to his boat seconds behind him. With a movement like liquid, Eric was up and over. She followed more slowly, head suddenly pounding, and threw herself to the deck while he started the engine and set off toward the mainland.

  Another shot rang out, sending her shoulders up to her ears. She wanted to make herself small, curl up into a ball, and hide. Why won’t they let us go? What could those people possibly be doing up there that they were so desperate to hide?

  “Safer up here, Zoe.”

  She cast a look toward the front of the boat, where Eric navigated the dark waters as if he knew exactly where he was. As if nothing scared him. Who on earth was this man? Not the unambitious fisherman she’d taken him for. She cast a quick look over her shoulder. Definitely not one of them.

  Any doubt she’d had about what he was doing there became secondary to the fact that the man had saved her life. Whatever happened from here on out, whatever had brought him to the rig tonight, that man up there was her pillar. They were a team.

  She crawled to his feet and sat, back pressed to the side of the boat, shoulder against his leg.

  Soaking wet, freezing, sucking in air as though she’d never catch her breath, she wanted nothing more than to wrap herself around him. Instead, she yelled. “What. The hell. Is going on?”

  “No idea.”

  “You’re not here to…spy on them or something?”

  “What?” In the light coming off the rig, she saw him glance down at her. Not his eyes, but his silhouette. “No. Just luck that I happened to be around.”

  More than luck. Divine intervention. “Think they’ll come after us?”

  “They’re still shooting, but unless they’ve got a high-powered rifle, they won’t—” He jumped back as something connected where his hands had been, sending shards of plastic in all directions.

  She ducked and rolled into a tight ball.

  “Shit!”

  “What?” she asked, though she was pretty sure she knew his answer.

  “They’ve got a high-powered rifle. Stay down.”

  He swerved the boat to the side, taking them off what she’d assumed was a straight course for the mainland. Totally unabashed, Zoe pressed the side of her face against his leg. Its surface was cold and wet, but there was an underlying warmth there. And comfort.

  He sped on for a few more seconds before what was probably a spotlight turned on, blinding Zoe and turning them into a target. She shielded her eyes against him, shuddering now.

  A shot popped in the distance, and less than a second later, something thunked faintly against the side of the boat. Eric ducked down beside her. Another distant crack, then another, followed by two splashes, then a puck, this sound louder than the first.

  “Shit.”

  “What?” Did she even want to know?

  “See that compartment there? I want you to crawl over, open it, and grab everything you find inside.”

  A smell assailed her—gas. “They hit the fuel tank.”

  No. No, she’d been happier without knowing that. Were they about to blow up?

  “Yeah. We’re leaking. With any luck, we’re out of range now, but she’ll be dead in the water soon.”

  “So, we—”

  He stood and guided the slowly chugging boat into the darkness ahead of them. “We swim.”

  No way. Zoe sat blinking up at him, mouth open, limbs heavy. With the adrenaline seeping out of her like…well, like gas from this boat, there was nothing left to keep her from collapsing. Or freaking the hell out.

  “Zoe. You need to grab the gear. All of it. Let’s go.”

  Boneless, trembling, and closer to dying than she’d ever been, she had two choices. And one of them wasn’t even a choice, actually. So, she shook her head, tightened up her body one muscle at a time, and followed his directions. Instead of giving up, she kept going.

  “What’s in here?” she asked as she grabbed a plastic-wrapped pack.

  “Survival gear.”

  “In plastic.”

  “We’re on the water. Pointless if it gets wet. Grab that pile of clothes and my shoes. Stick ’em in one of those plastic bags, and seal it up tight. Double bag it. These, too.” He pulled a black gun from a lockbox and handed it to her. “The weapon I took from the goons is at the bottom of the ocean. Let’s keep this one dry.”

  She stared at it for a few seconds before taking it with numb fingers. I’m holding a gun.

  Okay. No use freaking out about that. Not after she’d been shot at.

  Concentrating on her duties, she could slow her breathing and relax a bit, although the trembling got worse. Cold. It was so darned cold. Was it shock or the elements? Both?

  She grabbed the stuff, pulled it next to her, and scooted up against his legs, the only warm spot around. And not just warm, if she was being honest, but steady. Safe. “We gonna make it?”

  “To the mainland? Hell, no. Fuel’s leaking like a sieve.”

  “San Elias, then.”

  “San Elias.”

  They’d have to land on the eastern end, since this side was made up of sheer, craggy rocks. About halfway around the island, the boat conked out. Silently, Eric strapped the pack on his back, then took the bag from Zoe and grabbed her hand. He paused at whatever he could see on her face in the dark. “You all right?”

  She nodded automatically. She was, she realized, despite everything. Whoever he was, whatever had made him seek her out tonight, this man was her guardian angel. He’d put his life on the line for hers. Had she ever been in such capable hands? Whatever she’d gotten them into, however strange this all was, she was suddenly bone-certain this man would get them out. He was so competent that their survival seemed like a definite—a given, despite the odds stacked up against them. With Eric on her side, she’d be okay.

  She lifted her eyes to his dark silhouette and nodded. “Let’s do this.”

  In theory, sliding into the water was easier than the big jump had been, but man, was it freezing. At least she still had her wet suit on, while Eric wore just a pair of shorts.

  He took off at a brisk, constant pace, which was good. Keeping up with him numbed her, body and mind. We’ll make it, she told herself over and over, falling into the familiar rhythm of stroke, stroke, breathe again. We have to make it.

  And they did. To the island, at least, which felt like the end, although she had a bad feeling it was just the beginning.

  ***

  Goddamn, he’d missed this. The fight, the race to survive. The power running through his body like rocket fuel. As if he’d been dead all these years and having a mission had suddenly brought him back to life.

  Eric led the way up the rocky beach, pausing occasionally to listen for anyone approaching. Nothing but the rhythmic lap of waves on the shore and Zoe’s careful steps as she walked beside him.

  He glanced her way, taking in the tired curve of her back, the drag of her feet, the quick rise and
fall of her chest.

  “Not much cover on the island,” he said. “Let’s get over that first rise before we change into dry clothes.”

  They could rest for a bit, too. Catch their breath, check their bodies for issues the adrenaline had allowed them to ignore, and then make their way up to the top of the island, where they’d have shelter and a good view of Polaris.

  The ground changed under his feet from the pebbled beach to a dry, uneven grassy terrain. A few yards farther, they came to the big, flat rock where he and Ford used to wait for their dad at the end of his long fishing days. Though he’d left them on their own for hours—sometimes days—playing survival games out here with his little brother had been some of the best times of Eric’s life.

  Funny that he’d never wanted to return to the island.

  He might have brought his boat out that first time because he missed his brother, Ford. That was when he’d met Zoe. And though he hadn’t planned it, he found himself drawn to this place every Thursday. Which just happened to be her day to check on the rig. He glanced at her.

  She collapsed on the stone and worked to catch her breath, blinking at the clear night sky.

  “Come on,” he said, turning toward her. “Need to get you dressed. Get you warm.”

  “Just a… Just…”

  “Wet suit off. Let’s go. Up.”

  “You’re a machine,” she grumbled and stood unsteadily, looking like she could barely keep herself up.

  When she didn’t immediately unzip, he hesitated, then reached for her wet suit.

  “Wait. Eric. Just…” She stopped him with a hand over his fingers, which made a strange fist in the air for a few seconds before parting. “Who are you?”

  “I’m an ex-roughneck.”

  “Oh? So just another day at the office, then?” Even shaking hard, she managed to inject some snark into those words. And damn, but he liked that hard little edge.

  “I’m a Navy SEAL.” He opened a bag and went through it, leaving her to shed her wet suit on her own.

  “Also ex?”

  “Retired. If that’s what you mean. Once a SEAL, always a SEAL.” He eyed the water, turned, and checked the high slope above them. They needed to hurry and warm up, or they’d risk hypothermia. And a fire would attract attention. He unfolded a camp towel—small but efficient—and gave it to her. “Once you’re out of the wet suit, wipe down with that.”

  She nodded, a little slow from the cold, he’d guess. He turned away to strip off his shorts. Fuck, it was freezing. His balls had probably shriveled up and died by now. He grabbed a second towel, dried off fast, and opened the clothing bag. Good. A couple changes, although it’d all be too big for her. He pulled on a base layer top and bottom. No underwear, but it wasn’t like he’d had any on to begin with, so…whatever.

  “Why’d…you come…for me?” Her voice was stuttering from the cold.

  He glanced her way to see that she hadn’t made much progress. “Turn around. I’ll help.” He paused, hating the hesitation in her stance. Not that he could blame her. It would be one hell of a leap of faith to trust anyone after the day she’d had. He almost laughed. As if she needed to take any more leaps. Eric made his voice as soft as he could. “I won’t hurt you, Zoe. I don’t know how to prove that to you, but I won’t. I promise.”

  “I know that, Eric.” She took in a breath as if to say something else, and then released it before reaching for her wet-suit cord. “Could you… I can’t get it.”

  He unzipped her and yanked the thick layer of neoprene from her shoulders, waited for her to roll it the rest of the way off, and sponged her back off with the towel. He kept his movements quick and efficient. Get dry, get warm, hydrate, eat. Those were the priorities. Getting the hell out of here was next on the list, but without outside help, they weren’t going anywhere.

  He kept up his constant surveillance of the dark landscape around them, only occasionally letting his gaze touch back on Zoe’s skin. Even then, as she quickly shed her bathing suit, he resolutely ignored everything but the pale curve of her slender nape.

  “You’re…not…gonna…answer?” She looked at him over one freckled shoulder.

  His eyes skipped over to her face. “Answer what?”

  “Why…you…ca-came…” She shuddered so hard that her teeth clacked audibly. “To get—”

  “I’ll answer when you’re warm enough to talk normally again.” He bent down for another long-sleeved undershirt. “Arms up.”

  She complied like a kid, which made that protective part of him swell in his chest, soft and warm and so huge he could hardly contain it. Once the shirt was on, he handed her a pair of pants and thick wool socks and turned away while she clothed herself.

  Finally dressed, but still shivering, she turned to him. “C-c-cold.”

  “Do you nee—”

  Before he finished formulating his question, she tucked herself against him, her face to his chest, body plastered to his. He had no choice but to put his arms around her. After a few seconds, his brain kicked back in, reminding him of the basics, like the benefits of friction. He rubbed her arms and back, alternating between them until her shuddering slowed and the tightness in her shoulders eased.

  “Now what?” Her words puffed hot air between them.

  “Can you walk?”

  Her nod was a single stroke of her cheek to his solar plexus.

  He cleared his throat. “Now, we get to a defendable spot on this island, crawl under a couple of blankets to get warm, and have dinner while we figure out what the hell’s going on.”

  He’d just stepped back when she spoke again. “Am I talking normally enough for you now?”

  He puffed out an almost-laugh and let his hands drop. “It’ll do.”

  “Why’d you come after me?”

  “I was worried. When you didn’t come back the way you always did, I figured something might have happened, so…” He shrugged.

  She opened her mouth—as if to press further, maybe—and then closed it with a smile. “Thank you.”

  He nodded once, bent to stuff their wet clothes into one of the plastic bags, sealed it, and shoved the other in his pack. “We need to get going.”

  “Okay. Let’s go.”

  He set off up the rocky slope, with Zoe lagging behind him. She’d slid her wet dive boots over her socks, which couldn’t be easy to walk in, but given how small her feet were, there was no way she’d make it in his size 13 shoes.

  Like the other Channel Islands, this place was as dry and devoid of tall vegetation as they came, so hopefully there’d be nothing too sharp in their path.

  He held out his hand. “Full moon’s helpful, but it’s pretty uneven terrain.”

  Unhesitatingly, she slid her cold palm into his. They set off up the gently climbing slope, side by side.

  After a few minutes spent winding through an area thick with shrubs, they arrived at the base of the island’s long central peak. As a kid, he’d always thought of San Elias as a sleeping dinosaur, head and tail beneath the water, its spine a series of stegosaurus spikes rising into the air. The climb would get more difficult the higher they went.

  “You got a destination in mind?” Zoe asked after a few more minutes.

  “I do. You ever been on this island before?”

  “No.”

  “Used to come here as a kid.”

  “Okay. Where are we headed?”

  He tilted his head back, not wanting to release her hand. “See that cliff face?”

  “Please tell me we’re not scaling that.”

  “No climbing. We walk along the bottom edge to about the middle of the island. Then there’s a path between the peaks.”

  “Why head all the way up there?”

  “It’s the highest point on the island. And there’s a cave. Half mile or so up that way. You okay t
o walk?”

  “I can do a half mile.”

  They picked their way slowly over dry ground, letting loose the occasional stone as they went. After a few minutes, the Polaris blazed ahead of them. Zoe mumbled something. It sounded like asshole.

  He stumbled to a full stop and looked at her. “You insulting me?”

  “What? Oh, no. Thinking about those assholes.” She lifted her chin to where the platform’s lights polluted the night sky. “They shot at us, Eric. Put a hole in your boat. Leaked fuel all over the place. I know it’s not a ton, but this area’s a thriving habitat for marine wildlife, especially since the platform shut down. And San Elias is an important seabird rookery. Now it’ll need a cleanup.”

  “That fuel is long gone.” His jaw hardened as he scanned the water for any signs of approach.

  She sighed. “I know.”

  He squeezed her hand and sucked in a breath when she squeezed back, fighting the urge to put her fingers to his cheek. That hand was the only truly warm part of his body.

  “You see my boat out there?” she asked.

  “No. They must’ve cut it loose hours ago.”

  “Shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “That boat belongs to the nonprofit. Without it, we might as well shut down.”

  Another hand squeeze answered. He could get used to this.

  “We’ll get you a boat. Come on. It’s not far. Right through here.” He guided them up, across a flat meadow, then into a tight grouping of short trees and around a sharp crag. “This is the only climb. Watch where I put my hands and feet.” Exaggerating every move, he stuck his foot into a natural dip in the rock, reached above, and pulled up. After the initial leg up, the half-dozen stairs were easier to negotiate. He glanced back to see she’d made it, then threw his leg over before jumping down.

  “Whoa. I can’t see you. How far down is it?” Did she sound breathier than usual?

  “Eight-foot drop. Here, sit on the edge.” He put a hand on her calf. “I’m right here. Push off and I’ll catch you.”

  “Oh hell,” she whispered. “Another jump. I can do this.”

  “I’ve got you.”

  “Promise?”

  “Give me your hands.” He put both hands out, she took them, and then she was there—in his arms.