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Years of training and experience shifted into overdrive. Max fought the narcotic effects of the depth. Lethargy pumped through his veins with a tempting drunken draw, like a six-pack buzz just waiting to grip him. If he let it.
With seasoned practice, he shook it off. Unlike two of their attackers. Already their motions slowed. Turned sluggish.
Victory teased.
The other diver swam straight for Darcy. So close. Only a few yards separated them. The attacker caught her flailing arm. Darcy kicked. Struggled. Wasn’t any match, not now with the intoxicating effects threatening.
Rage roared in Max’s ears, obliterating the rush of air pumping from his tank. He reached…
The attacker’s arm cut through the water. The large blade of a hunting knife gleamed in the glistening depths. The jagged edge raced down toward Darcy. Sliced across her arm. Severed her regulator hose. Bubbles spewed behind her into the blooming red of blood staining the water.
Resolve iced away the haze. Keeping blood out of the water was no longer a concern, now that Darcy’s already leeched all around them. Max plunged his knife into the attacker’s chest. Hefted. Flung him off Darcy.
Her arms slowed until they stopped moving altogether. She stared back with dazed eyes, eyes that slid closed.
He pushed back panic and willed her to hang on. From his tank he yanked free the octopusattachment for a second diver and shoved the extra mouthpiece between her lips.
Crimson blood diffused into a pink haze around them like one he’d seen before. Max shoved those thoughts away before they stole reason faster than a lack of oxygen. He needed her conscious and breathing before he started the rise. She had to exhale the expanding air in her lungs during a rapid rise.
Time was running out before their attackers might recoup—
Her lids flickered. Foggy, but awake. Not even a second to waste on relief. He pointed up and locked her slick, too-cold body to his. He had to get her into the boat and away before the other two goons shook off the lethargy.
Rapid rise.
Max secured his hold around her waist. She flung her limp arms over his shoulders in a weak attempt. He unsnapped her weight belt, then his. Infused air into his BC vest. They shot upward.
She slumped in his arms. Dead weight. He willed her to exhale.He tapped her stomach, a light punch to push the air outand combat an insidious threat as deadly as the men lurking beneath them.
The faster the rise the faster the air expanded in the lungs, minimizing time to accommodate. Increasing the risk of exploding the lungs. Instinct screamed to inhale and exhale in a normal rhythm. But one breath of air could be exhaled for an entire rise.
Instinct had to be shut down, the brain assuming control like with a dolphin’s controlled breathing. Years of diving had taught him until he rarely thought about it anymore. But Darcy would be fighting it. And if the air continued to expand without release… Instant death.
Kicking, Max rose, tapping Darcy’s stomach. The underwater Technicolor that had so mesmerized him during his earlier dive now flashed by in an ominous kaleidoscope. Brighter. Brighter still as the surface neared.
Kick. Tap. Try to remember how to pray.
The boat hull loomed in sight. Darcy hung in his arms. So close he could swear he heard her heartbeat thudding in his ears with his own.
Max burst through the surface. The fading sunlight blazed in his eyes, across Darcy’s face as her lashes slid closed again inside her mask.
He clutched her to him and hauled her unconscious body toward the boat with one-armed strokes. Each slice through the water reinforced his vow. Rules and fair play no longer applied. He would do whatever it took to keep her alive. And if he lost her trust, her respect…her…in the process, it would hurt, but so be it.
At least she wouldn’t end up dead.
* * *
She hurt too much to be dead.
Everywhere.
Darcy hadn’t ached this much since a case of the bends from a rapid decompression during pilot training. She kept her eyes sealed shut and willed away the pain stabbing every joint in her body. Memories painted themselves on the backs of her eyelids. Of the day with Max. Intense pleasure on the beach. Betrayal at his rejection. Horror in the water with...
Max?
Her eyes snapped open. Dimmed lights shadowed the stark military hospital room. A bleached sheet and blanket draped over her body as white as the bandage on her arm, as sterile as the antiseptic air stinging her lungs.
Visions flashed of the knife arcing through the water. Down. Her arm throbbed. The rest blurred. Somehow, she’d gotten to the surface. But what about Max?
