Page 4 of Hooked

It’s hard to keep my balance—this storm has no patience for fools. I manage to clip to a pole on their canopy. It’s our literal lifeline.

I don’t see Oscar at first. Just a wide-eyed, bedraggled girl.

She’s got one hand clenching the console, and when I follow the line of her gaze, I see that her other hand has a tight hold on Oscar’s collar. He’s unconscious, but she holds him above the encroaching water.

She can’t hear me above the noise of the storm and rescue boat motor, so I don’t bother engaging. Instead, I try picking Oscar up, but she won’t let him go. I pry her hand open and don’t have time to be gentle. Her grip is like iron.

After I take him, I touch her arm. I can’t carry them both, but I want her to know I’ll be back. Shifting Oscar onto my shoulder, I grab the line, using it as a guide as I rush back to Sven as quickly as the waves allow.

I hand Oscar off and hold up my finger to let him know there’s another passenger.

The girl has one hand on the console still, and a large tote bag has replaced Oscar in the other. I peel her hand from the console, and I try to get her to drop the bag. Her eyes are wide from shock. She’s saying something I can’t hear and just pulls the bag closer. Not worth the fight right now. I grab her and the damn bag and carry her back to the rescue boat. I don’t know how Kristi managed to keep us so steady through the heaving waves, but she’s a pro. I hand the girl to Sven and unclip the line.

And just like that, we’re off. The Ivy Bay may sink, or she may not, but we leave her to her fate.

An ambulance meets us at the dock. They were only expecting one person and prioritize Oscar. The rest of us shed our gear. Sven goes with Oscar, and Kristi works on securing the boat and gear, leaving me with the girl and her giant bag.

She has no shoes on.

Jesus Christ. We can’t stay out here, not even to wait for another ambulance, which could take upward of twenty minutes. Better to get her to Danny’s house for triage.

Thank god he lives nearby.

Taking advantage of her shock, I pick her up and toss her over my shoulder again in a fireman’s carry, running her up to the soon-to-be Claddagh Inn. We’re drenched. She’s not a big person, but with that giant goddamn bag and her waterlogged clothes, it’s a challenge fighting the wind and rain to make the short, but uphill, trip. On a good day I could run it in three minutes, easily. Tonight it will be closer to seven. I’m at Danny’s door, about to pound on the solid wood, when it swings open.

“Thank Christ,” he says. “Is Oscar?” He pauses and looks at the girl in my arms. “Vinny. Oh my god. Vinny.”

Danny’s face freezes into a mask of fear. He’s blocking the door.

“Let us by, Danny,” I say. My voice is calm. I never panic. Learned to control that response early on.

He steps aside, and I take the girl to the bathroom. Her eyes are open and following me—a good sign. She’s still got a fierce grip on that damn bag until her eyes wander up and find Danny. She makes a small noise then and drops it.

Her hands are a mess.

I unwind her scarf. She’s more scarf than person. I toss it and her coat aside, then pause. She’s not a teenager like I’d thought. She’s an adult woman, on the small side. Big, terrified eyes make her look a lot younger.

“Blankets?” I ask Danny. He’s frozen again. I sigh, scrub my face with my hand, then snap my fingers in front of his nose. “Danny, we need to warm her up. Blankets.”

I don’t yell, but I get as close to it as I’m capable of. It snaps him out of it. Her lips are blue, and she’s not shivering.

Not good.

Moderate hypothermia. Danny returns from the closet with a fluffy gray blanket. I snatch it from him and direct him to heat up some tea or soup. I finish stripping her down to her bra and panties.

Definitely a full-grown woman. And definitely not something I should be noticing right now.

Wrapping her as gently as possible in the blanket, I carry her into the living room and tuck her on the couch. Once she’s settled, I go to check on Danny.

“Do you have a thermometer?” I ask. Really she should go to the hospital, but it’s more important to warm her up.

Fast.

He nearly drops the kettle, his hands shaking.

“Danny, are you okay?”

He lets out a sob. “Vinny, that’s my baby niece. That’s Sia. What was she doing on that boat?” He braces himself on the counter like he’s about to pass out.

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