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Chapter Twenty

Ethan

He went in feet first.

He knew full well this was far from ideal. Survival wasn’t a given.

Piper could well have been killed. She didn’t have time to orient herself or get into a jumping posture.

Striking the surface was like hitting cement. Sliding into the cold water was shocking.

The bubbles that encircled him were disorienting.

They say to blow bubbles to know which way was up and down. But that advice was useless when everything around him was bubbles.

He hated this.

He’d hated it even more when he’d trained with the SEALs in Alaska, and the orcas were hunting, but at least he had that experience under his belt. It dimmed the panic, keeping him from the mammalian dive reflex that tried to force a deep gasp. With the water around fifty degrees, it was cold enough to be a real risk.

And while he had trained his body and brain not to inhale water as soon as he hit, Piper probably did not.

It was a potentially lethal reflex.

With air in his lungs, instead of reaching out an arm, trying to pull himself up, he waited.

He knew he had the time.

In the pool, he’d tested his ability to swim without taking a breath until he’d all but blacked out. He knew what that felt like.

And while he hurt like hell, the sensation in his body—this oxygen hunger—didn’t have control of him.

Ethan waited for the velocity of his plunge to ease and for the air trapped in his lungs to buoy him toward the surface.

Now that he had a direction and could see light in the water, he reached up and pulled.

He had gone deeper than he had imagined.

And things were getting tough.

His goal was to surface and scout for a sign of Piper. Or her body.

With water under sixty, blood flow protects the core. They had five, maybe ten minutes before swimming would become nearly impossible, even for him, despite his training.

The shore was too far.

His only hope for Piper and himself was that one of the boats he’d seen on the horizon heading north would intersect with them as the water dragged them southward.

The current ripped at his clothes and tumbled him as he pulled his knees to his chest. His first task was to shed the extra weight by dragging off his socks and tactical pants—with his pockets filled with helpful gadgets like the monocular that let Ethan see that Piper was in danger.

Ethan sank under the surface as he fought the wet fabric that wanted to tangle around his limbs and cling in place.

Once again, he waited.

He had no idea how his struggles and tumbling had disoriented him.

Ah, there.

Now, the air he’d trapped in his lungs lifted him upward.