Page 104 of Boomer
He was already moving. Gear shedding. Vest unlatched. Rifle dropped. The only thought in his head was get to her before she was gone. Before the ocean swallowed the only woman he’d ever loved.
17
He hitthe water hard and dove deep, the current clawing at him. The cold punched his lungs, stole his breath. He choked down the instinct to gasp, focused on one thing.
That fucking beautiful reason for him to live.
Frantic, he swam toward the surface with powerful strokes. When he surfaced, the hull of theGaspardtowered to his right, the mass of the luxury yacht looming near him. At least the vessel had been stationary, but the pitch dark made it all very difficult to see.
“Get a searchlight on that water!” Iceman shouted.
He looked around, his eyes scanning the sea. A light blinked on, and he spotted her a short distance from him and started to swim powerfully toward her. With the kind of flailing she was doing, she would exhaust herself in no time and then drown. She was weighted down, dazed by the blows to her head. It was a miracle she wasn’t fully out.
She spotted him. “Carter!” Her voice was weak. Her eyes wide and frantic. He tore through the waves, lungs burning, salt in his eyes, his throat, his mind. His breacher brain kicked in,organizing chaos into function.Stay calm. Stay clear.If he lost it, she’d die.
“Carter,” she called, weaker, sputtering, her thrashing growing weaker until she slipped out of his sight.
“Taylor!”
But the surface was calm without a ripple. When he reached the spot where she went down, he dove, scanning. He saw her sinking below him. He kicked hard, his legs pumping powerfully as he closed in on her.
She was limp, weighted, her gear dragging her deeper. Her hair fanned like seaweed. Her eyes were closed. Adrenaline drop loaded into his system, and he increased his descent. He reached for her, snagged the top of her tactical vest. Latching on, he swam for the surface, dragging her dead weight with him, his hand tight as death, muscles flexing. His heart beat hard, not in exertion, but for her. He treaded water as he hauled her up and dragged her toward him.
Before he could strip her vest, she gasped, awake, disoriented, panicked. She clawed at him, arms locked around his neck in a death grip, cutting off his air. Water filled his nose, his mouth. She was trying to climb him like a life raft, thrashing, wild, drowning them both.
So, he did the only thing he could. He dove again, dragging her down with him.
Beneath the surface, he seized her flailing arms and shook her. Her eyes flew open. Terrified.
Look at me.
He pulled her close, held her there until her eyes locked with his. He let her see it, all of it. Calm. Focus. Trust. She stilled. He stripped off her vest, then brought them both to the surface. “Hold on to me,” he said softly. “Just rest. I’ve got you.” This time, her arms circled him with purpose and trust.“It’s okay, angel, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”
She clung to him, her chest heaving with her exertion, her terror, and the emotional turmoil that was twisting them both up inside, eating up valuable resources. Waves lapped around them but were calm and the wind steady.
“Carter,” she whispered, her teeth chattering from adrenaline, cold, and fear.
He clutched her tighter. “I’ve got you, Red.”
Then, a motor. Over the rhythm of crashing waves, a searchlight carved through the dark. A dinghy skimmed the chop, spotlight slicing wide.
She sighed. Just once. Then stilled.
The boat closed fast, and someone splashed in beside them.
“Hey big man,” Breakneck called, treading water. “You need a lift?”
Boomer turned, breathless and grateful. “You’re lucky my hands are full right now, kid.”
Inside the dinghy, he removed his helmet as Break covered Taylor with a blanket. She lay spent in his arms and Hazard gunned the engine.
He stared down into her face, taking in all that delicate beauty, the ugly bruises starting to form on her temple and jaw. Her chest expanded. “The German judge gives you all the points for that swan dive after me.”
Break chuckled softly, nudging Hazard, who barked out a laugh. “Five point nine for me. He didn’t point his toes.”
Taylor sputtered and Boomer murmured, “Don’t encourage him, Red.” Then his eyes flicked up to a very unconcerned Breakneck. “I’m going to kick your ass, you freaking pain.”
“Oh, leave him be. He brought a boat and a blanket,” she whispered. Boomer stilled at the softness in her voice. The thought of losing her made him weak. He turned his face into the silky wet tangle of her hair, his arms tightening aroundher torso, the wrench of emotion so profound that he felt as if something huge had opened up inside him.
