She stared out the dirty window of The Sea Queen. Nothing. No one.
Leland was in danger. Jason wasn’t coming.
Unbidden images of a flooding sea cave in California overwhelmed her.
Panic seized her lungs. She sucked in air, faster and faster, until she saw stars.
The door opening, and slamming shut, jolted her from her downward spiral. She watched Dylan walk over to the helm and start the engine. “We’re going for a ride. Just sit tight. We’ll dock in about thirty minutes. As long as you cooperate, you’re going to be fine.”
She didn’t believe him.
She glanced out the grimy window one more time. Not much was visible in the darkness. But just beyond the pier, the outline of a rocky cliff shone against the moonlight.
A rocky cliff. Rock . . .
She almost heard a whisper.
Oh, dear God, be my rock, please be my rock right now. Help me! I’m hanging onto you, God. And if this is how my life ends, please, please don’t let Jason or Leland blame themselves. Please be their rock. Take care of Leland. And . . . and . . .
Jason’s face floated in her mind until her heart felt like it was about to burst. She couldn’t finish her prayer.
Dylan grabbed his cap, put it on, and took a long drink from a coffee mug. Looking at him, she realized it was now or never. She had to yell for help. She had to. And she had to do it now.Dear God, give me strength . . .
She cleared her throat and screamed “Heeelllp!” as long and loud as she possibly could.
Her sudden outburst startled Dylan into spilling his coffee and bellowing a string of expletives.
She continued screaming at the top of her lungs. “Help! Help! Help me! Please! Help!”
He stomped over to her and clamped a hand over her mouth—triggering an instinct she didn’t know she had. She opened her mouth and bit down on his index finger until he roared.
He used his other hand to hit her across the face so hard she released his finger and fell to the floor. With her wrists and ankles still bound with the rough, scratchy rope, she had no real hope of fighting him off, and braced for the worst.
The door swung open. Two sets of boots pounded into the room. Reflex forced her body to recoil, but she quickly realized she was no longer in danger.
Jason shoved Dylan against the wall with so much force that Tayla thought he might be unconscious.
“I’ve got’em Jason, I’ve got’em,” Knox said, pointing his gun at Dylan. “I’ll watch him, get—”
Tayla didn’t hear any more of Knox’s words. Jason filled her vision. The emotion on his face stole her breath.
He eased her to a sitting position and scanned her from head to toe. “Are you okay? Baby, I’m so sorry. Are you hurt?”
Words stuck in her throat. She shook her head.
He pulled a knife from his pocket and cut her ankles and wrists free.
She threw her arms around his neck, hung on like her life depended on it, and finally sucked in her first deep breath in minutes. “I’m okay. I’m okay. Thank you.”
He pulled back and brushed his fingers across her cheek. “Are you sure you’re not hurt?”
She nodded again.
A breath later, his lips pressed to hers. His kiss was strong—intense with adrenaline, fear, and relief. And made her feel like nothing on earth could ever harm her.
Chapter 18
The intensity of the kiss surprised Jason. Even though he initiated it.
