He hadn’t witnessed the ship’s final seconds and was glad of it. It would have been like watching a friend draw a last breath. And he knew from experience that was one sight better left unseen. Once again, he wondered what would become of him and the others now that their futures were officially sitting on the sandy bottom of the Straits. But before the self-condemnation and remorse could set in, he saw two dots of orange on the far horizon bobbing on the waves.
Olivia?He squinted his eyes. No, not Olivia. They were the empty preservers Mason had stowed in the bottom of their dinghy before the thing made its journey into the deep.
“Olivia!” he hollered again, fear beginning to sink its razor-sharp teeth into his heart and squirming in his belly like a venomous snake. His mind raced through all the possibilities…
Drowned.No. I saw her grab the life jacket.
Sharks.Hell no. That’s too awful to contemplate.
Caught in a current and carried out of sight.Butshe’s strong. She wouldn’t let herself—
It didn’t matter that none of the scenarios seemed likely; ice-cold terror still froze his brain and iced over his lungs. Chills raced up his spine. Goose bumps erupted over his skin.JesusChristonthecross!He was having a panic attack. An honest-to-God panic attack.AfteralltheshitI’ve seen and done,nowiswhenI—
And then he understood. In a flash of clarity he realized. If she’d met some horrible fate, if he never saw that crooked smile or those beautiful blue eyes again…well, he’d be tempted to give up and meet her in the watery depths. And it was that acute realization, that his life ceased to have the same importance in the absence of hers, that made it suddenly, starkly clear. He didn’t justlikeOlivia. Helovedher. Heart and soul. Body and brain. With every step and every breath.
But somehow he’d missed it. And all those months he’d missedher, all those times he’d turned down some buxom broad at the bar, all those days he’d spent wondering where she was, what she was doing suddenly made sense. He wasn’t crazy. He was just in love. Head over heels. Ass over teakettle. All in. Nothing held back.
And it was beautiful. So goddamned beautiful.
And so utterly terrifying…
“Olivia!” His voice broke because his heart was busy striking hammer blows against his ribs. “Olivia! Damnit! Where are you?”
“Here!”
The relief that poured through him at the sound of her husky voice was so intense it made him dizzy. He sank a couple of inches into the water, closing his eyes and sending up a quick prayer of thanks to anyone who might be listening.Youknow, just in case.
When he blinked open his eyes and spun around in the water, there she was. The woman of his heart. No more than ten yards away and splashing in his direction. Which meant she hadn’t heeded his advice to stay put. In fact, she must’ve started swimming toward the action as soon as they took off, the brave, reckless,lovablecreature. Her ponytail had come undone, so her sodden hair lay plastered against her skull. Her cheeks were flushed scarlet from exertion. And her mascara was smudged in huge, black swaths beneath her wide eyes, making her look like a startled raccoon.
He’d never seen a more gorgeous sight in his whole sorry-assed life…
Chapter Twelve
2:46 p.m.…
“Leo!” Olivia yelled, lifting her arm out of the water to signal him. He didn’t hear or see her. He’d already dived beneath the waves, headed her way.
She choked on a sob that should have mortified her with its strength. But she was so damned happy he wasalivethat she couldn’t make herself care that her tough outer shell had developed a series of huge, gaping cracks. When she hadn’t seen him or his men emerge from behind the dinghy after it sank, she’d contemplated the worst, that they’d all somehow been killed in the seconds her vision was obscured by that stupid, idiotic wave.
But as she’d swum and swum and swum, her muscles on fire from the exertion, she’d refused to let herselfreallybelieve it. Repeating the same mantra over and over as she fought the wind and the tide:He’s not dead. He can’t be dead. He’s not dead. He can’t be dead…
Then, just as one of the terrorists noticed her and took aim in her direction—yeah¸ that would be one second she relived in her nightmares—the bearded men were all yanked beneath the surface of the sea as if they’d been set upon by a school of sharks. But she’d known it wasn’t sharks that dragged them down. It was frogs. As in frogmen. As in Navy motherfriggin’ SEALs!
The relief had overwhelmed her, filling her chest with choking cries. She’d thought maybe she was about to turn into the spokeswoman for Kleenex and Visine, and have a good ol’ fashioned breakdown of hysterical, tear-filled happiness, but ten seconds stretched into twenty and then thirty…and no Leo, just waves upon waves lapping over the surface of the sea. She’d held her breath when she saw two dark heads briefly breach the surface, her eyes searching, her whole heart hoping…but no blond head bobbed up next to them. Then the two dark heads disappeared again.
She’d renewed her efforts, paddling against the current, buffeted by the surf, spitting out the occasional mouthful of salt water when a wave hit her full in the face, or pushing aside a piece of the floating debris left behind because theWayfarerhad given up the ghost. Just when she began to think there was no way—no wayanyonecould hold their breath for that long—all four men blasted out of the sea like human torpedoes. And she hadn’t stopped swimming in their direction until now when she simply floated, waiting for him to come to her, her heart so full of joy it was a wonder the organ didn’t burst from trying to contain it.
Then…he was there, surfacing next to her, water sheeting over his head and down his wonderful face. He pulled her into his arms and she was instantly enveloped by his wet warmth, his impossible strength, his…everything.
“You okay?” he asked, his deep voice purring in her ear.
“Leo,” she breathed, burying her nose in his neck while their legs briefly tangled as they kicked to keep themselves afloat. “I’m so sorry.”
“Stop apologizin’, Olivia,” he told her, cupping the back of her head in his wide palm and hugging her tight despite the blasted life preserver that kept distance between them. “There isn’t a damn thing you could’ve done differently.”
“But if I hadn’t involved you—”
“Shhh.” He pulled away, pressing a finger to her lips. His hazel eyes reflected the ocean, appearing almost turquoise. Then his bearded, scarred chin popped back, and he cocked his head. “Are you…are youcryin’?”
