Page 12 of Island Rescuer

Blocking her with his body, he turned away from the controlled chaos of the emergency response and accelerated away.

So much for going unnoticed.

* * *

“Is it safe?” Harper asked after a few minutes of steady movement over the water. The boat lifted and fell back again as he sped across the waves with gentle expertise, away from the emergency. The hum of the engine combined with the consistent rise and fall of the boat lulled her into something close to a trance.

She was too stressed to call it sleep, but she didn’t feel alert either. She didn’t know if they’d been out here for hours or merely a few minutes.

“Should we go back and help?”

“No.”

“Knox.” She should argue, persuade him to do the right thing.

“Harper,” he matched her scolding tone. “You need to see the bullet?” His sharp tone scraped against her rattled senses. “The hole isn’t good enough?”

She’d hoped she’d imagined that. “It wasn’t debris from the fishing boat?”

“No.”

That tone meant she’d be wasting her energy trying to change his mind. How long had she been tucked under here? Shouldn’t they have reached the marina by now? Her perspective was all warped.

One minute she’d been reveling in a glorious morning, eager for a fun day as they set the lines. Then everything was chaos. The explosion had been like a full-body blow and she could still taste the fire in her mouth.

“Let me up.” He didn’t move, so she bumped his legs, doing her best to ignore the strong muscles revealed by his board shorts. “Knox, please.”

“In a minute.”

She didn’t have a minute. If she didn’t get this taste out of her mouth, get some clean air on her face, she’d puke. No way would she give into that ultimate indignity in front of him. Squeezing out of the cramped space, she crawled over to the bench seat. In deference to his abundance of caution, she stayed low on the deck, resting her head against the seat and turning her face into the wind. She let the strong breeze tug at her hair, hoping it would strip away the clinging smell of smoke.

“What the hell happened back there?” she asked. She’d barely understood the full scope of the fire before she’d fallen overboard.

“Engine trouble?”

When he turned her way, she assumed he was glaring at her. His eyebrows were flexed down, his mouth too, but his eyes were shielded by dark sunglasses.

“Where are you taking me?” She was cold, her legs were cramping up, and the motion that had been comforting moments ago was becoming unbearable. An overreaction, yes, but she couldn’t ignore it much longer. “Do you have any water on board?”

He didn’t reply other than to ease off the throttle until the boat was drifting along with the gentlest of rollers. “I think we’re clear.” He reached down and helped her to her feet. “I’ll get you some water.”

She looked around. They were definitely clear. The nearest vessel was a cargo ship at the horizon, plodding along toward Charleston. She had a thousand questions, but as soon as she saw the hole in the destroyed windscreen, her focus narrowed quickly.

“That’s a bullet hole.”

He handed her a bottle of water. “I believe so.”

Her knees buckled and he caught her one-handed. “Easy now.” He supported her until she was seated on the bench seat next to the helm. “Hydrate.”

“Thanks.” Her shaking hands fumbled on the cap and he opened it for her. She tipped it back, guzzling the contents and soothing her throat. “Why would anyone shoot at you?”

A single dark eyebrow lifted over the frames of his sunglasses. “No idea.”

It had to be an accident. Had to be. She just couldn’t explore any alternatives right now. No one other than Bruce and Audrey knew she was going fishing this morning. This couldn’t be about her.

And yet…

Somehow, Knox just happened to be fishing in the same area? Her stomach twisted and she downed more water.

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