CHAPTER 15
“KURT!” CAITLYN’S HEART collapsed as he disappeared over the edge.
He was a strong swimmer, and the jump was survivable if he went in feet first, but his hands were tied and his legs might weigh him down. Were they buoyant? She had no idea.
To her right, her sister screamed and jumped as the guard moved to push her off the cliff.
“No!Rose!” Caitlyn twisted inher captor’s grasp.
Glenn jerked his chin and backed away from her. The iron grip on her arms disappeared and she stumbled, caught off guard.
Then she rocketed toward the cliff.
At the last minute, she diverted her path and thrust her shoulder into Glenn’s midsection.
He cried out, desperately trying to regain his footing. Instead, he ran out of earth and they both went over the edge. Growlingin rage, he grabbed at her face.
Too soon, they crashed into the cool, choppy water and onto the rocks a few feet below the surface. She landed on him, momentarily stunned at the impact as her body bounced and rolled toward the deeper water, sucked away from Glenn and the cliffs by a retreating wave turned pink with blood. Paddling to keep her head above water, she gasped for breath.
Somethingsnagged her ankle, momentarily pulling her under. She fought her way to the surface and looked back. Glenn’s hand encircled her lower leg. Blood streamed down the side of his snarling face.
Twenty yards away, Rose’s head popped out of the water.
She disappeared again.
“Rose!” Caitlyn used her free leg to kick at Glenn’s head until she connected. She pummeled him again and again with her footuntil his grip released.
Finally free, she dove for Rose.
If Kurt knew anything, it was how to hold his breath.
As part of his PJ training, he’d spent six weeks in the Special Forces Combat Diver Qualification Course “drown-proofing” himself. Which basically meant learning how to overcome the fear that overtakes a man when he can’t breathe.
Occasionally, it meant actually passing out andhaving to be yanked to the deck where he woke up being slapped in the face, the trainers hurling questions at him. After a quick visit to the medic for some fluids, he’d be back in the pool in under an hour.
He was practically part sea mammal, and if not for his bound hands, and the fact that his legs were half dead weight, he could have been out of rifle range in seconds.
Instead, he dolphinkicked across the sea floor—he only needed a few feet of water to protect him from bullets—fighting to stay below the surface. His prosthetic legs weren’t heavy enough to counteract his body’s natural buoyancy.
Bright dots swam into his vision, dancing like fireflies on a summer night as his lungs begged for him to breathe.
Crouching, he pushed off, rocketing toward the surface. If he survived,he’d write a glowing letter to the manufacturer of his military-grade legs, which were still functioning despite being submerged in seawater. They had been marketed as waterproof, but this went above and beyond.
He breached the water and gulped air. Gunshots blasted the space around him, pinging into the water near his head. Something hit his leg with a dull, metallicclang. So much for beingspared death by bullet.
Diving fast, he wedged himself against a ledge halfway down, still safe from the hail of gunfire, but closer to oxygen. Moving quickly, he worked his wrists against the sharp rocks at his back, the waves pushing and prodding to dislodge him from his perch as he tried to ignore the burn in his lungs.
Ow, fuck. He’d caught his right forearm on an edge and a small streamof blood swirled around him. Hopefully, the sharks were busy elsewhere.
He’d nearly reached his limit when the bindings gave way. The rocks slashed his arm again, but he wasfree. Up for more air.
Inhaling sweet oxygen, he pulled hard against the current, his shoulders and arms on fire as circulation was restored. His legs weren’t made for swimming, but he got the job done with a sloppy kick,propelling himself toward the far side of the outcropping.
Bullets peppered the water above him as he dove again. His entire body tightened in anticipation of getting hit.
When he broke the surface for another breath, gunfire still echoed across the water.
His thighs burned. He pressed on.
