Page 52 of Hot SEAL, Under Pressure

All in all the swimmers would be in the water for over half an hour, possibly closer to an hour for the really slow swimmers. How many of them could handle that?

This was hardcore shit. Not as tough as real SEAL training but too hard for the average person. Especially since their preparation time had been about twelve hours and his training with her consisted of not much more than a pep talk.

That there were multiple boats on the water didn’t relieve his worry. The boats were there for the camera crew, not for water safety.

In fact, unless he missed something, it looked as if there were no lifeguards on site at all. What the fuck?

They’d be on their own if anything bad happened. He should have demanded there be SEALs in each of the boats as well as on the shore. If they were going to play lifeguard for this race, they needed to be where the swimmers were.

He squinted into the distance, trying to distinguish between the swimmers as they got farther away. He cursed his lack of binoculars. Then he cursed this insane race and this whole damn show.

Stefan had never felt more helpless than he did right now, standing on dry land and worrying while watching Shelly getting tossed by the ocean.

Even out past where the waves broke the water was rough. Turbulent enough to cause swimmers to experience seasickness. There were a few SEALs in his BUD/S class who, during the five-and-a-half-mile swim, got sick enough they’d puke and then just keep swimming.

Open water swimming was no joke. And no place for an amateur. Yet there they were—seven of them. Out there at the mercy of the sea.

He bit out a curse and paced a few feet forward before retreating back.

Did no one have binoculars? He took his eyes off the swimmers long enough to scan the crew and the other SEALs. He didn’t see binoculars, but he did see a camera. And it had an extraordinarily large lens.

He stalked to the cameraman. “How much can you zoom in with that lens?” he asked.

“You’re not supposed to talk to me.”

Fuck the rules. “Answer the question,” he bit out, leaving no doubt he expected an answer.

“Pretty close,” the man finally answered.

“Are any of the swimmers in trouble?”

The cameraman let out a snort. “They’re all bobbing around so much I don’t think I’ll be able to tell if they’re drowning or just trying to make headway against the current.”

The same was probably true for the crew out in the boats. If they weren’t trained in open water swimming, they might not notice a swimmer in trouble.

Stephan cussed again. That was it. He was ending this insanity. He kicked off his sneakers, pulled off his socks and T-shirt and ran for the water.

“What are you doing?” Zach called to him as he passed the SEAL.

“I’m going in,” Stefan yelled back without stopping or turning around.

“Are we allowed to do that?” Nick asked.

“Fuckallowed.” He didn’t know or care if the SEALs or the camera caught that comment.

He was Shelly’s coach. If it wasagainst the rulesto coach her from inside the water, it shouldn’t be.

SEAL candidates trained with a swim partner. The producers should have had them in the water to begin with. And when he heard he wouldn’t be, he should have insisted.

Even though it was far from his favorite part of his SEAL training, he was a strong swimmer. But without swim fins, it was taking him longer to get to her than he would have liked.

He reached the first of the swimmers. He passed the slower ones while cursing his lack of goggles as he did his best to locate Shelly.

Finally, he spotted her.

She’d just gotten hit by a cresting wave and had taken in water. He swam to her side and touched her shoulder.

Bobbing in the water, she spun to look at him as she choked.

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