Page 176 of Her Reluctant Hero
Mallory brushed off a chill at the expression in his eyes. “I’ve lost my appetite.” She pushed her chair back. “Good night, Valentine.”
Adrian was bleary eyed when he walked out on deck the following morning. He’d played Linda’s murder over and over in his mind. No matter how he played it, he couldn’t find a way to stop him. If Smoller was that desperate for the box, Adrian was powerless to stop him from killing them all.
With Smoller, there were five guards, now that one had been disabled from his fast ascension. Adrian had heard the helicopter arrive to take him away last night. At the first sound of rotors, Adrian had bolted, but the largest of Smoller’s men was stationed outside his door, and by the time he’d figured out how to open a window, the helicopter was gone.
He’d stayed awake the rest of the night, torn between replaying how he might have escaped and terrified Smoller had sent Mallory away to fuck with him.
And he’d worked out a plan of escape.
Now he scanned the barge for Mallory. She walked out on the deck of Smoller’s boat wearing shorts and a T-shirt, not even glancing at the gear as her crew prepared for their dive. Was Smoller going to let her in the water?
For a fraction of a second, Adrian considered taking his chance today and leaving without her, then coming back. No, not possible. Hell, he was having a hard time getting into the water without her.
“What’s the holdup?” Smoller demanded, walking out of the pilothouse of his boat. “We’ve got to be getting close. I need you down there.”
As he suited up, Adrian strained to see past him to Mallory, but she’d disappeared. He shook his head, put the regulator between his teeth and dove.
Smoller was right; they had to be getting close. The wreck had been thoroughly compromised. Adrian’s gut twisted to see it. The masthead had been removed, and during the search for the casket, artifacts had been tossed from one part of the ship to another. They’d never learn what they needed to learn from her now.
He’d lost it all on this one, every dime he had, every dime he’d hoped to make. Odd how that was just striking him, the reality of it. Was it sinking in because of the stress of Robert’s death and their kidnapping had kept emotion at a distance, or because of something else? Even with his career and credit ruined, the loss didn’t cut as deep since he’d found Mallory again. He hoped, if they walked away from this, that they’d walk away together.
This time he’d give her the real wedding she’d always wanted. Maybe she’d still wear flowers in her hair, though. She’d been so pretty with the flowers fluttering around her face, up on that hillside. Would she want a stateside wedding? And a house. She’d want a house, and kids, and he was finally ready to give them to her.
Kids. He smiled at the thought of Mallory growing large with his child, nursing it at her breast. He’d fucked up once, he wouldn’t do it again. Yeah, he could see himself inside that white picket fence, chasing a toddler, mowing the lawn, maybe even getting a dog, settling down.
Damn. Bubbles escaped around his regulator as he smiled again. Maybe he’d had too much adventure in the past weeks to be thinking like this. Or maybe Smoller had done him a favor after all. Adrian grinned.
That single thought snapped Adrian to. Where the hell had that come from? Jesus. Oh hell. His thoughts, which had raced through his head moments ago, now moved sluggishly. He watched his hands float in front of his face, had to concentrate to close his fingers into a fist.
Nitrogen narcosis. Rapture of the deep. But he wasn’t so deep, only about a hundred feet. He’d swum deeper than this in the past and not been affected.
The crew had stirred up so much silt trying to get to the rest of the artifacts that when he looked around, he couldn’t see anybody, and no one could see him. He struggled to keep focused, like a drunk behind the wheel. He was an experienced diver; he wouldn’t do anything dumb like take his regulator out of his mouth and try to give it to a passing fish.
No, he’d only planned a wedding to the woman who had left him.
The woman he had to get back to, or else.
Focus, Adrian.
Okay, well, which way was up? This deep, the sun didn’t filter through the water, and with all the silt floating around him, he couldn’t see the ground, or feel it with the toe of his fin. Even if he felt it, he couldn’t be sure what was real.
This was how experienced divers died. Panic kicked his heart against his ribs. Mallory. If he died, what would happen to her?
He didn’t have time to wait for the silt to dissipate. A delay like that could deplete his oxygen before he reached the surface. He lifted his wrist to his face to check the gauge on his watch to monitor his depth. Purposely, he didn’t look at the air in his tank. He needed to worry about one thing at a time. Okay. His watch told him he was at ninety-eight feet. Keeping his eyes on the readout, he finned in the direction he thought was up.
Uh, no. Moving slowly, deliberately as he continued to fight the effects of the narcosis, he made a U-turn, swam a few feet before checking the computer again. Huh. Still descending. In one part of his mind he knew he’d be concerned if not for the narcosis. He adjusted his angle and finned on, this time checking his air level. He’d already used almost half a tank. Not good. He didn’t have time to find his way out and decompress.
He was screwed.
He kept his breathing shallow, even. He’d better not panic. Even one minute of panic would kill him.
Who knew there were so many possible angles? He’d stopped making such big turns and now just made small adjustments in his quest for the surface. The problem was, he couldn’t swim too far to find the depth or he risked losing too much energy and too much air.
The thought hit him that he should find the guideline. If he didn’t, he’d surface too far from the boat and Smoller would not come after him.
No, he couldn’t worry about that. He had to get to the surface first. Once he had air, he could worry about getting his bearings.
Another wrong turn, and his air supply was dropping fast. How could that be? He checked his computer. More time had passed than he realized as he considered his next move. Damn narcosis. He had less than a quarter tank of air left, as well as the pony tank strapped to his chest. He loved diving, but he’d be damned it he let the ocean get him, so he took every precaution.
