Page 11 of Island Rescuer

Knox managed to get a couple pictures without being spotted. As soon as he got a cell signal, he’d send the images to Jenna for identification.

There were other boats in the vicinity, typical for the prime charter fishing spots. Knox did what he could to record the closest vessels for further investigation, though no one seemed to be paying much attention to Harper.

Knox set a fishing pole and pretended to do his own thing, blending in with the other fishermen. The sun rose, rays of yellow and orange spearing across the sky, glowing over the water. For a while, Knox relaxed under the sheer beauty of it.

When the peace shattered, it began in silence. Black smoke billowed up, charring the morning sky. Knox grabbed his binoculars, a beat ahead of the explosive boom that rolled across the sea, rocking his boat. Damn, it was the same charter Harper was on.

He radioed for help, heard others doing the same as he sped closer to the scene. He could see fire flashing deep within the smoke and nudged the throttle, arrowing toward the danger. Maydays continued pouring over the emergency channel, along with responses from the Coast Guard.

Knox slowed as he came alongside the boat, close enough he could feel the heat of the fire. The acrid odor of burning fuel stung his nose and the heavy smoke cloud swelled.

The crew fought the flames rising from the stern near the motors while the guests, Harper included, gathered near the bow. Everyone on board had donned life jackets.

Didn’t take a nautical expert to see that the charter boat didn’t have much time left.

Other vessels moved in, offering advice and assistance. The commotion turned the water choppy, making it hard to safely hold position for rescue. His priority was Harper.

At the bow, she was far from the flames, but still in a great deal of danger. She’d taken over, shouting directions to the nearest vessels to get the guests and crew off the burning boat as quickly as possible.

Knox steered closer. He didn’t care who rescued the others, but he could not allow her to leave this scene with a stranger.

A big fishing cruiser maneuvered into position. They had plenty of room for everyone from Harper’s boat. The pilot managed the chop with an expertise that made it look easy and they tossed a line to maintain their position as they deployed an inflatable rescue boat.

If not for the bridge incident last night, Knox might’ve let her go and followed the big cruiser back to shore. But he couldn’t take the chance this was a random crisis.

“Harper!” he shouted. The odds of her hearing him over the commotion were low. Waving his arms, he tried to catch her attention.

The narrow inflatable hit the water with a smack. A clever design, it could support three or four people at once. The crewman on both vessels worked in tandem swiftly, without rushing, to get everyone across safely. Harper was poised at the gunwale, ready to move to the inflatable, when the hull cracked. The smaller boat pitched up high, then lurched to starboard. She lost her grip and cartwheeled into the water.

Someone from the rescuing vessel dove in after her.

Time slowed down for Knox, each detail feeling separated from the others. The would-be rescuer had made a rookie move, going in like that. Knox understood the desperation, but refused to give in. Watching the point where she’d gone in, aware of her skills, he tossed a line where he expected her to pop up.

She surfaced, spotted the line, and grabbed hold.

He reeled her in, gripping the lifejacket to help her out of the water and into his boat.

“I’ve got her!” he shouted, unsure if anyone could hear him over the noise of the engines in the makeshift rescue armada.

“Kn-Knox?” Her teeth chattered. “What are you doing here?”

He grabbed a towel and wrapped it tightly around her shoulders. “Just lucky timing I guess.”

He nudged her down onto the bench nearest the helm and eased away from the rescue operation. “Are you hurt?”

She shook her head, blotting her face. “Scared, but?—”

The windscreen shattered, interrupting her. He hadn’t heard a gunshot, but he couldn’t think of anything else that would leave a hole like that.

“Get down,” he barked, dragging her under the helm. It was the best shelter he could offer.

“What was that?”

“A problem.”

She was trying to stand up for a look at the windscreen. “Was it a gunshot?”

“Stay down, Harper.” He’d answer questions later.

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