He slowed his strokes. Hell, he’d drag her out of the water for the rest of her life if need be. And not just for the job. Something about her made him root for her. She didn’t give up when times got hard. Sure, she might look scared as hell, but she kept her chin up and focused on survival. Even seemed to trust him.
And she’d heard everything Drake had said, also. She’d already been hurting with the news of Keith’s death and Cat’s injury when he faced her on the deck. Instead of reaching out to her, he had jumped in the water.
He’d run away, like every other time something personal threatened him. Running was the only weapon he had. First time had been when his dad was killed. Second time, when his mother died. Third time, to save his siblings. But this…with Liz…this was different.
From the moment he’d laid eyes on her, he’d known he’d give his life to save her. But she was just his assignment. That’s all. An assignment. So why the hell did everything about her twist him in knots? Like the kiss she’d given him—all sweet and caressing and tender. She’d triggered something inside him that he’d never before felt.
For once in his life, he realized he might have a weakness.
In his line of work, weakness was a danger. Vulnerability a hazard to everyone involved. The thought that Liz could be in danger because of his line of work didn’t sit well. She was already in danger from Coercion Ten. That’s why he’d been assigned as her protector. So, what were his choices? Fight his feelings? Give up the assignment to a different agent?
What had happened to his nicely regimented world?
Flipping out of his smooth circle around the boat, he dove straight down. Maybe the change in pressure would shake his questions back in line with the answers. Something had to, otherwise he’d go crazy doubting his decisions.
He dove deep. Deeper and deeper, trying to shake her face from his thoughts. Shake the warmth of her body against his as she leaned against his chest on the Q40. Shake the ache deep in his core. He deserved every bit of anger she had to be feeling. Because he was nothing but a low-life bastard who—
Suddenly, the water around him glowed with a purple hue. The alert system built into the bottom of the boat had been activated. Immediately, Mitch regrouped and kicked for the surface. Red meant human danger above. Blue, human danger below. Purple, get the hell out of the water—now!
His peripheral vision caught sight of what appeared to be a ten-foot, great white shark bearing down on him. Close to a thousand pounds of eating machine, teeth looking mean as hell, just cruising by, scooping up everything in its path. Didn’t see them in the Gulf of Mexico all that often. Leave it to bad luck that OPAQUE had decided to cut its engines and drift in the same location.
The purple glow disappeared, followed by a bright light illuminating a circular perimeter about a hundred-foot radius from the boat. Hopefully that caught the shark’s attention.
In the semi-darkness of the depth, all Mitch could do was take the final kicks upward while foot by foot, the water became clearer in the morning sun. He grabbed the rope ladder hanging from the side of the boat just as the shark brushed Mitch’s arm. The side of a sharp tooth grazed along his leg as he hoisted himself on deck.
“Did he get you?” Reese shouted down from the wheelhouse.
“Only a scratch.” Sprawled on the deck, Mitch shook his head. He’d let himself get lost in his thoughts down there. A dangerous path when diving. If it hadn’t been for the alert thinking topside, he’d have been an early-morning breakfast. “Thanks for the head’s up, Fly Boy. I owe you one.”
“No problem. I’ve always got your six.” Reese jerked his thumb in the direction of the bow.
Mitch jumped to his feet, swiping his hand through his hair, then noticed Drake pacing along the starboard side. A spear gun in one hand. A long gun in the other. He tossed both to Reese. “Rerack those for me.”
“Sure thing.”
Mitch and his boss had had their share of shouting matches, but this one had gone to a whole different level. He wasn’t sure he still had a job. Worse yet, he wasn’t sure he still had Drake’s respect.
“Thanks for chasing him off.” Mitch offered a handshake. “Guess I let my guard down.”
Drake stared at the offered hand then grinned and grabbed Mitch’s forearm in a brothers-in-arms shake, pulling him close enough to prop his other hand on Mitch’s shoulder. Immediately, everything felt right between them again.
“Besides, I didn’t want that old shark there to take a chunk out of you.” Drake headed up to the wheelhouse. “That hard head of yours might break his teeth.”
“Kind of like the barracuda that got you a couple years back?”
“Yeah. I’m still leery when I’m close to those underwater hidey-holes.”
Swallowing the lump of thankfulness that had settled in his throat, Mitch realized making amends to the guys usually ended up as more of a testosterone-filleddamn rightto ahell no, all the way to fists and black eyes. This time had beendamn right. That was good.
Something told him Liz wouldn’t be so easy. For one thing, she didn’t have that testosterone mentality. Second, he’d been wrong.
Drake glanced over the wheelhouse rail. “Hey, you need to grab something to eat and get some sleep. We’ll all talk this afternoon. Time to get everybody’s questions answered.”
“Sounds good,” Mitch responded, ready to admit he needed some rest. “Hey, I…uh…loaned Keith my tech-band when we headed in different directions back in Florida. His had gotten smashed in the first attack. Got any extras on board?”
“Sure thing,” Drake said. “I’ll get one powered and synced. It’ll be on the counter downstairs.”
“Thanks.”
