The concerned frown that had covered his face faded with the miniscule lift of the corners of his mouth. After a few seconds, he turned toward the darkness in front of them and straddled the seat as she settled in behind him. He gripped the handles once again and, gradually, shifted the Q40 back up to speed.
Determined to stay alert, she focused on the past month. Wasn’t just her body that was tired. Evidently, her mind was tired, too.
She couldn’t believe this time last week she’d been in the hot, dry heat of Arizona trying to arrange another meeting with an informant on the story she’d been assigned. The next day, she’d been called back to Chicago, accused of being rude to one of the people she’d interviewed, and fired on the spot by the publisher. That had been the lowest point in her life.
Looking back, that had been nothing compared to today. Today she was living the lowest point.
She felt safe for now. Still, she was scared. Not of Mitch, but of what he’d do to someone else if her life were on the line. What would that cost him physically? Emotionally? Psychologically? What had all the assignments already cost him? She didn’t want to be the cause of pain to anyone. Yet, none of this was her fault. At least none that she knew of.
And how could her dad have kept the Witness Protection aspect of their life secret for all these years? Why? If he thought he was protecting her, that would be one thing. However, the way he’d made sure Drake and she were acquainted meant he’d tried to stay in the WPP but not give up his real-world past.
Maybe CT had caught wind of where her dad was living. Figured he might be hungering for his old life. They might even have wanted him to work for them again. Or, they might have roughed him up and left him to die, just to make him an example to others turning on CT. Her eyes flooded with tears. She couldn’t bear the thought that he’d be hurt.
Oh, Daddy, don’t let them catch you. Please, please, please stay hidden.
Mitch had mentioned hostage and leverage as Coercion Ten’s tactics. She could see why Coercion Ten wanted her now. If they had her, they’d have an edge on luring her dad out of hiding. She shuddered and leaned a little closer to Mitch’s back.
But her dad’s testimony had sent a couple of their operatives to prison. From everything she’d ever read on mob-type entities, they didn’t take kindly to their people being ratted out. A bullet, or worse, was the usual payment. So, if they’d known his location… She sighed. That didn’t make sense, either. Nothing made sense.
What if Mitch was right? What if CT viewed her position as a journalist lucrative to their organization? What if the only way to keep her dad alive would be to work for them?
She had a lot of questions about the WPP, OPAQUE, and just what the heck qualified someone to be a protector. Judging from Mitch’s professional attitude, he must have had a lot of experience. A lot of training. A lot of…for all that was holy, was there some kind of degree in college that you went in a wimp, came out a tough, muscled-up expert in explosives, guns, and evasive tactics? If there were, she’d missed that opportunity in class scheduling.
Biting her lip and wishing she didn’t have to do this, she tapped Mitch on the shoulder again.
“Yeah?” He looked backward, and in the glow from the dash screen, he didn’t look at all happy she’d interrupted his train of thought. Or had he been talking to someone on the secure mike pickup?
“I really, really have to go to the bathroom.” She furrowed her brow, hoping he’d get the idea how desperate she was in this situation.
“Are you kidding me?” Never looking away from her face, he stared into her eyes as if she’d seriously told him the world would end in five seconds.
She clenched her bladder with every ounce of muscle she had. Pushed her bottom tight against the seat. “I’m not kidding, I’ve—”
The Q40 whooshed upward when a fish the size of a small whale or a jumbo dolphin jumped out of the water. Losing her hold on the seat strap, she flew through the air screaming and headed headfirst for the water.
Plunging into the dark coldness, her mind shouted this was the end.
She shoved at something velvety brushing past her leg. Opened her eyes. The fish. Right beside her.
What if it was a shark? What if she kept sinking? What if she sank too far to come up?
She kicked. Kicked again. Tried to pull with her arms, her hands. There was no panic this time, just pure survival mode, and she seemed to be losing. She continued to sink. Or, was she headed upward? Which way was up? Which way was—
Suddenly, she realized there wouldn’t be another breath. She’d never tangle the sheets with Mitch. Never feel his lips on hers.
Drake had been right—what if tomorrow didn’t come?
Chapter Seven
Mitch tumbled from the Q40 into the water, diving downward to get a vantage point for where Liz would land. He tapped the button to the mini-light attached to his jacket, and a hundred or so yards in front of him lit up like a movie screen. The sides and back were still dark as hell, but if he felt the outward ripple of water from the point she fell in, he’d be able to gauge her distance. See the bubbles of entry.
As if on cue, the small pod of dolphins blocked his view. He kicked toward the general direction, gently pushing his way through the pod, straining to see around them.
He didn’t have long to find her. Even less time, if she kept sinking once she hit the water.
She’d said she couldn’t swim. What did that mean? A little? Some? None?
Would she even know to watch her bubbles to find which way was up?
