“I said I can’t—”
A dull thump sounded from down the shoreline. A deep, whiny rumble zipped through the air, heading away from them. A flash of explosive light shattered the horizon.
“—swim.”
Mitch slid from her hold, and with a hand to her back, he pushed her down against the seat as he plunged, feetfirst, into the water next to the Q40. Obviously still able to stand on the sandy bottom, he crouched low, barely raising his head above the waterline. “Don’t move.”
She couldn’t move if she tried—too many worst-case scenarios were flicking through her mind like someone using a View-Master, anxious to see all the pictures. Her cheek hugged the seat, and she stared at the fire in the distance. “What was that?”
“Stay quiet. Stay down.” His expression had steeled, eyes narrowed.
Without another word, he physically maneuvered the Q40 down the length of the long pier. Once the water was over his head he pushed off on the pier’s legs, from one to the next and the next and the next. He paused at the end of the pier, but still didn’t get back on the personal watercraft.
“What are you doing?” she whispered. “Why don’t you start the engine and use the silencer like Keith did at first?”
Catching his breath from the exertion of manhandling the Q40, Mitch held up his finger, motioning her to give him a second. Suddenly the screen on the dash panel lit. A bright green wave pattern pulsed in the upper right corner.
The slight yet audible gasp she made sounded decibels louder to her tension-filled body. She pointed at the glow on the dash. “What’s that?”
“Sonar. Now, lean in the other direction,” he said as he straight-arm muscled himself upward. He looked at the screen before sliding back in the water. “Push that green wave symbol.”
She steadied herself with the tilt of the Q40 then tapped the screen. “What about the red dot?”
“What red dot?”
“It just showed up on the screen. Coming from the left. No, wait. It’s circling back in the direction it came.”
“Green is OPAQUE tracking. Red dots are a problem.” Mitch glanced in the direction of the still glowing explosion on the horizon. “We’ve got to get past the wave break before I feel safe starting the engine. See the toggle switch on the far side of the screen?”
“Got it.”
“Click that down.”
She did, and instantly the screen went dark. At the same time, Mitch grabbed the safety lanyard from the ignition then shoved the Q40 away from the pier, looping the rope lanyard through a metal grommet on the front side of the Q40. After making an improvised secondary loop, he slipped it over his shoulder and started to swim out, away from the beach. Slow and steady, they ventured closer and closer to the wave break.
Heading straight into the surf, he paused. Once again watching him gasp for breath, she figured the moisture on his face was part water, part sweat. The intensity in his expression said he wouldn’t stop. She hoped he knew his limit, otherwise he’d die trying.
“What can I do? Should I get in the water and help push?” The mere thought sent her insides flaring into a jumble of nerves. Yet she’d do whatever he asked. Like Cat had said earlier, Mitch was in charge.
“No. Stay where you are.” He sucked in three big breaths, flipped over into a backstroke, and headed straight into the oncoming surf. One wave after another crashed against the Q40, but he kept them going forward. Finally, the path cleared.
“Mitch…Mitch…we’re clear,” she said in a quiet voice.
As if he were in another zone, he just kept pulling them forward. One backstroke after the other. His muscles straining against the water. She doubted he even heard her. Surely, they had to be far enough out to chance starting the Q40. She had to get his attention. Had to make him stop.
She couldn’t chance trying to reach the rope lanyard for fear of falling in. Of becoming a hindrance to all he’d done. That thought chilled her insides. Yelling wasn’t an option, either. What could she do? There was no wave resistance now, only their machine gliding smoothly on the surface of the water.
Smooth…gliding… Maybe, she should…
She stood on the footrests and bounced up and down, harder and harder. Gripping the handles with all her strength, she swayed from side to side. Finally, the Q40 rocked back and forth with her change of weight, splashing water in his direction. The lanyard tightened on his shoulder.
He jerked his head up. Swiped his palm down his face. And blinked. He stared into her eyes as if he’d forgotten she was even there.
She pointed ahead of them. “Clear. We’re past the wave break.”
“Flip the toggle switch on.”
She flipped the switch upward, and the screen lit. “Green wave symbol like before.”
