“Who?”
He pointed upward then wrapped his arms beneath her bottom as he stood on the footrails of the Q40. Damn, his own legs were none too steady either, but he managed to balance and push her upward. Leaning over the side of the boat, Reese and Drake stood ready to hoist her on board. During that brief glance, Mitch noticed his boss had reacted to Liz’s seating arrangement with a frown.
“Turn and reach as far up the ladder as you can,” Mitch said.
She glanced toward the water. “What if I fall in?”
“You’re not going to fall. I’ve got you.” He couldn’t believe they were having this same conversation again. If it was the last thing he ever did, he’d teach her how to swim. Right now, though, he had to get her on the boat, and she seemed frozen in place. “You going to let your fear of water keep you from living? Guess I gave you too much credit back there at the Mariner’s, E-liz-a-beth.”
She shoved his chest and turned toward the ladder, then grunting, with an all-out scream, she grabbed a ladder rung as far up as she could reach. Then another one. He propped his shoulder against the boat, steadying her feet on the bottom rung as Reese and Drake leaned over the side and grasped beneath her arms. In one smooth motion, they pulled her aboard.
Glancing back at him as she went over the boat rail, her expression said she was one pissed-off mama. “Mitch Granger, you are one pain-in-the rear!”
At least she was on the boat. Now, if he were smart, he’d turn the Q40 around and head right straight back across that Gulf.
Drake glanced over the side. “You plan to stand there all day?”
“I’m thinking about it.” He eased back to the seat.
“Well, stop thinking, and get your ass on board. We’ve got a lot to discuss.”
Chapter Nine
Liz fisted her hands to keep from crying out with the pain in her legs. Mitch had been right—she’d been in one position a long time, and she needed to come back to normal.
The last time she’d felt this kind of all-out ache and burn had been three years ago, when she’d eavesdropped on a source’s conversation with a counterfeiter. She’d crouched, hiding in an air vent for a couple of hours, but she’d gotten the story, and an award. All of which had led to her position with her latest publishing company…make that her ex publishing company.
Drake helped her to one of the seats on the boat and handed her a bottle of orange liquid. “Try to get it all down.”
“What is it?” she asked.
“Call it a power juice. Filled with electrolytes.” Reese motioned her to lean away from the chair then massaged her back to get the blood flowing.
She swigged a large gulp from the bottle, causing her to make a blah face once she’d swallowed. “Tastes terrible.”
“Get it down. You’ll feel better.” Reese pulled her to her feet and steadied her when she took a few wobbly steps. Then less wobbly, until he finally let her walk on her own.
She smiled. “Thanks. I feel better already.”
“Get yourself a shower. Some clean clothes. A little food. You’ll be good as new.” He headed toward the bridge.
Glancing around the dimly lit boat deck, one thing stood out—Mitch wasn’t there. Had his job been to get her to the boat, and nothing else? Had he left without saying goodbye? Her heart kicked up a few beats. She didn’t want him to be gone. They might have only known each other less than twenty-four hours, but those hours had been a lifetime. There were things she wanted to say. To do.
“About time you got here.” Drake walked to the back of the boat and shook hands with Mitch as he came on board.
‘You worried about us?” Mitch asked.
She blew out a soft sigh as her heart calmed into simply one beat after another.
Drake handed him a bottle of power juice, also. “Not hardly. I figured the two of you would make a nice snack for the sharks, that’s all.”
Edging a glance in her direction, Mitch raised his eyebrows and grinned. “You have no idea how close you came to being right.”
Pressing her lips together, she smiled on the inside.
Drake appeared not to notice. “Well, I’m glad they didn’t get you two.”
“The sharks or Coercion Ten?” Mitch asked.
