Page 138 of Tate
He shouldn’t have put her in that position. Shouldn’t have looked up, their lives in his hands, and asked her to save the day.
Like he trusted her. Like he respected her.
Like she was on his team.
Four strokes and a breath. Four more, a breath. She wore goggles, and out of her periphery, in the quick moment it took her to gulp air, she spied the shore she paralleled. The buoy would be ahead another one hundred yards.
She’d already completed the on-land test—the push-ups, sit-ups, and pull-ups. Flying colors, but she’d always excelled in the core activities.
Endurance. That’s what she failed at. Looking past the current pain to the goal. And knowing that she was making the right decision, not sure if her next step might crumble under her.
Life was a series of white cords versus blue cords, hoping she clipped the right one to keep the world from blowing up around her.
The white one. For hope.
She wasn’t sure why she’d said that—a gut feeling, maybe, although after inspection, the bomb squad had deduced that the chip hadn’t been intended to trigger a bomb, but rather to activate the transmitter inside the senator’s lapel mic.
A transmitter that would trigger the bomb set inside an innocuous vase of decorative flowers in the senator’s VIP suite. A bomb meant for the senator alone, regardless of the collateral damage.
Tate had uncanny instincts to have figured it out in the split second between entering the room and launching himself and Glo off the balcony.
But she could have picked the blue cord, and nothing would have goneboom.
It made her wonder if she worried too much about the impendingboomin her life. If it kept her standing outside the room, staring at what she wanted through the window. And sure, Ford was trying to keep her safe, but maybe she was tired of being safe.
Fifty more yards. Her chest had tightened, her breaths coming in a burst of flame.
Tired of trying so hard, of taking care of everyone, of denying what she really wanted.
Ford. And yeah, the happy ending that came with him. Sure, it would be complicated, but…well, Ford knew how to navigate complicated.And I’m all in…as long as you are.
White cord or blue cord. It didn’t matter as long as she was with Ford.
Teammates, and more.
She hit the buoy, grabbed the rope, breathing hard. Her instructor floated in a kayak nearby, clocking her. He gave her a thumbs-up.
“You have a three-minute rest, then you’ll be towing your instructor Chief Petty Officer Peters to shore.”
She cast a look at the man she’d be towing. He was about Ford’s size, wide shoulders, blond hair. He wasn’t smiling.
She gathered her breaths, put her head back in the game. One more evolution.
You got this.
Two hundred yards to her future.
She blew out a few more quick breaths, filled her lungs a final time, then nodded her ready.
The instructor sank in the water.
She dove down for him, expecting him to lie limply, in need of rescue, but he grabbed her.
Remember, whatever you do, don’t let me get a grip on you to pull you under.
She ducked her head and sent her hands into his elbows, dislodging his hold.
He let her go, and she turned him around, her arm around his chest as she kicked for air.
