Page 44 of Shielding Instinct

Hawkeye had to fight his instincts, trusting that his brothers were roaring onto the scene behind him.

That last guy, number six—hisguy—he had the least expectations of being saved.

As Hawkeye drew parallel to him in the calmer waters just ahead of the man, his face was etched with surprise, exhaustion, hope, and pain.

From here, all Hawkeye could do was cheerlead. He couldn’t paddle his board toward the man in the rip current anymore than that man could swim for shore. “Sir, let the current bring you to me.” Hawkeye rolled off his board. “Try to relax into it. Float. It’s pulling you right to me.”

The pain on the older gentleman’s face worried Hawkeye. He couldn’t account for it.

A cramp?

There would be time to assess once they reached the shore.

“You’re going to be okay,” Hawkeye encouraged. “I’ve got you. What’s your name?”

There was no answer. The man made guppy lips as if trying to sip in some air.

Hawkeye felt his assessment turn from awareness to a clenched gut. This wasn’t anything he’d seen before. “I’m Hawkeye. Sir, your name?”

“Roy,” he croaked out.

From the sound, Hawkeye began to suspect Roy had swallowed too much salt water.

But if yesterday with Petra taught him anything, it was never to assume. “You’ve got this, Roy. You’re not fighting the current. You’re using the current to bring you to me.”

The guy attempted a lazy side stroke in Hawkeye’s direction with just enough effort to keep his head above water.

His pallor was gray.

Really gray.

Seconds felt like minutes. But, from the expression on the guy’s face, Hawkeye knew the exact moment when Roy reached the edge of the rip current, and there was some relief from the power of the sea’s energy.

Hawkeye pushed his board toward Roy so the guy could grab hold while maintaining a safe distance between himself and this guy until he was sure Roy wasn’t panicking.

If Roy grabbed Hawkeye, they could both drown.

As Roy reached out one hand to clasp the edge of the board, he clutched at his chest with the other.

His mouth agape, Roy’s breath was shallow and had the cadence of a freight train.

“I’ve got you, sir. I have you.” If Hawkeye was guessing, this grandfatherly, overweight man was having a heart attack from fear and exertion.

Hawkeye needed to get him to shore stat.

While culling through videos from the Iniquus library in preparation for this training evolution, Hawkeye had seen a couple of surfboard rescue techniques demonstrated.

There was a way to get an unconscious person onto a board, but to get them back to the shore, the rescuer basically had to lie on top of the victim to paddle.

Hawkeye didn’t think Roy could survive the pressure.

On the plane, when Hawkeye and Levi carried Petra to the ambulance, they hadn’t trusted she could stay conscious on the stairs. Better to get her configured safely in advance while they had her cooperation.

And now, Hawkeye didn’t think Roy was going to make it far without passing out.

Better to get him configured for that potential rather than trying to get him moved in an unconscious state.

Running through memory files, Hawkeye recalled viewing another technique—a much more complicated technique—that kept the victim facing upward and the rescuer facing down. If Hawkeye could figure out how to get himself into the right setup, that might be the best option here.

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