Oh shit. Water whooshes back and a wave grows to ginormous proportions. Paddling with my arms, I half-run, half-swim toward the carpet, clamp on, and just in time, suck in my breath.
Slammed to the ocean’s bottom, I hang on until the water recedes. Then, on my hands and knees, I drag the sodden wool up onto the shore and roll it out onto the sand.
Inside, Martha Rossini flops out, arms spread wide.
Dammit. She’s not breathing.
But wait.An eye flutters.
Leaping up, heart full of hope, I pound on her back, and she vomits. While I hold her head, I search for Suds and gasp.
“Watch out!” I point at the huge, ominous wave, looming behind him but he doesn’t see me or it.
Knee deep in water, he fights the thrashing killer, dragging him to shore by the collar.
I stand transfixed and time stands still as they both disappear under a ton of water.
Screaming, I dash in, and scour the foamy brine for any sign of life. When the water rushes back, I catch his rolling body by the belt, heave hard, and collapse on my ass.
Hacking, he grabs me by the waist and we both stumble forward, barely out of reach of the crashing surf. On dry sand and unable to speak, I point to the elderly woman with a thumbs up.
His mouth at my ear, he shouts over the din. “We need to get her inside. Quickly.”
Heads down against the wind, we fight to stand, and trudge through the sinking sand to the motionless Rossini. He gently lifts her and with my arms around his waist, we make our way up to the beach house.
Once inside, he places our victim on a couch in front of a still warm fireplace. With frozen, hands, I throw twigs and logs onto the embers, blowing until flames burst forth.
Beside me, Suds shivers as he unsuccessfully tries to unzip his jacket. My fingers now working, I help him remove his frigid clothing. After I untie his boots, I motion for him to stand near the heat. Then, I run down the hall, retrieve comforters from the beds, and rush back to where Suds now squats near the unconscious Mrs. Rossini.
“How is sh-she?”If I don’t get out of my wet clothes soon, I may die of pneumonia.
Suds turns to me, no doubt notices how blue I am, and begins to pull off my clothes. “Her pulse is strong. Other than that, I’m not sure. She may have been drugged.”
“W-W-We need to call J-Jason.”
Sebastian squats, pulls his phone out of his back pocket and I heave a sigh of relief when it comes to life.
Chapter 17
Suds
With the authorities on their way, I throw more logs onto the fire. While it crackles and pops, I pull Sam inside my warm blanket. If she hadn’t snatched my belt, I’d be greeting Davy Jones alongside the kidnapper.
I don’t notice she’s crying until she turns her face in my chest with a little sob. “I thought I lost you.”
“I’m a SEAL. We don’t sink, we float.” My arms wrap around her wet body, trying to warm and comfort her.
Chin quivering, she lifts her head and ventures a smile. “You’re just saying that so you won’t owe me one.”
“Busted.”
“Oww…” Mrs. Rossini moans so we race to her side.
Next to the couch on my knees, I gently pat her cheeks. When she opens her eyes, I heave a sigh of relief.
Sam grabs her hands. “Don’t move. An ambulance is on the way.”
Gray brows wrinkle as her eyes circle the room. “Where’s the kidnapper?”
