Chapter Eighteen
Adrian couldn’t take another chance. He knew what had caused his narcosis; he’d figured it out floating in the ocean, watching the boat approaching.
Someone had switched the gases in his tank. The team had been using Heliox so they could stay underwater longer. Someone had switched his tanks to Nitrox, and he’d had higher levels of nitrogen in his blood, leading to his narcosis.
If he’d gone deeper, he could have died.
Ingenious, really. Anyone who paid attention to him knew he checked his equipment to the nth degree. Gas mixture was not something he’d thought to check.
But the experience had given him an idea.
Last night he’d slipped out the window of his cabin and smuggled three full-sized tanks from the boat, strapping them to the underside of the barge. He might manage a couple more pony tanks, and hope that would be enough. He and Toney could use the pony tanks—they were the most experienced divers. They wouldn’t have to go as deep as usual, so they wouldn’t use as much air. He just hoped they’d have enough to get to land without having to surface and risk being seen.
He’d gone back after securing the tanks and dumped the extra hoses and regulators overboard, then released most of the air in the remaining tanks. He’d cracked open the gauges and manipulated the needles until they stayed pointing to “full” before he added weights to the straps so they’d feel full. They’d run out of air before the divers descended too far, giving Adrian and the others a chance to escape. They ran the risk of the men surfacing to alert Smoller, and Adrian hadn’t decided if that was a risk he was willing to take. If Smoller brought them back, he would not go easy on them.
He’d tried to work out how to get control of his boat, but three unarmed men against six armed—he didn’t like the odds, the chance that Mallory could be hurt. If he only had to worry about himself and his brother, that was one thing, but he wouldn’t chance Mallory and Jacob. They had a better chance of swimming to safety under the radar, so to speak. So while it nearly killed him to do it, he poured water in the gas tanks of each boat so Smoller couldn’t follow them to shore.
He hoped Mallory understood his signal. He’d feel better if they could talk through the plan first, but there was no time. They had to act.
Mallory didn’t wait for Valentine to tell her to suit up after Adrian, Jacob and Toney went in. He cast a flat gaze in her direction as she tugged the suit over her clothes, zipped it up. She checked the hell out of her equipment while he watched. They would all know she was aware of their tricks now, and they’d think twice about trying them again.
Her nerves had been jumping since she’d overheard the conversation, and if she stayed around him too long, he would suspect and then act.
Or prevent her from acting.
“Where do you think you’re going?” he asked as she moved to the edge of the boat. “You need to wait for Karl.”
“You want your casket. I want to go home.” Before he could say anything, she dove.
Adrian knew if he hung back to wait for Mallory, the two men swimming with him would suspect something. They couldn’t turn back too soon, or they risked discovery. He’d have to trust she could catch up, that Toney and Jacob could retrieve the tanks from the barge. They weren’t being watched as closely as he and Mallory, a point in their favor. Adrian would keep an eye on the guards, alert for the moment they realized they were out of air. If anyone had to take drastic measures for their safe escape, he would. He was responsible for them all being here.
He saw the diver called Danny check his gauges and slow, straighten as he tapped the plastic casing. Oh hell. Too soon. Adrian looked around for Mallory, for Jacob and Toney, didn’t see them. Danny signaled to Brutus, then to Adrian, urging them to surface. Brutus pointed to himself and down, then to Danny and pointed up. Danny shook his head and stubbornly signaled with a sweeping motion for the three of them to ascend. Brutus repeated his message with frustrated movements, before he turned to descend. Adrian followed.
Danny grasped Adrian’s calf, pulling him toward the surface. Ahead of him Brutus swam forward, oblivious. How long would he stay that way? Out of the corner of his eye, Adrian saw Mallory swimming forward to help him. Damn it, he had to move now. He twisted, driving his elbow back as hard as he could into his captor’s stomach. The blow loosened his grip enough that Adrian could turn and rip off Danny’s mask, blinding him as salt water stung his eyes. Danny released him. Adrian drove his fist as hard as he could into the enemy’s face.
Crap. Blood spurted out of Danny’s nose. Bad news. Danny reached for his dive knife. Adrian slammed a hand into the man’s throat, but the water resistance prevented too much force.
The man slid his knife free and slashed it toward Adrian, who swam out of reach. But he wasn’t prepared for the backstroke. The tip of the blade sliced the palm of his hand. Damn. More blood in the water. He closed his hand around the stinging wound just as Danny jabbed his knife toward Adrian’s chest, falling short, a surprised look in his eyes as he sucked on his regulator, out of air.
Adrian looked over Danny’s shoulder into Toney’s facemask, to the glint of a diving knife and dangling air hoses. Where the hell had Toney gotten a knife? That was the one thing Adrian had failed to accomplish as he’d crept around the boat last night. He pointed to the knife and lifted his eyebrows behind his mask. His brother shrugged as Danny swam toward the surface.
Mallory approached, fins flipping behind her a bit frantically, and hooked her thumb over her shoulder. He looked past her to the two men swimming after her, drawing Brutus’s attention to his comrades.
Shit.
Adrian motioned for Toney to give Mallory one of the extra tanks and go, get away. They needed to take off now or risk being dragged back. If they failed, they wouldn’t get another chance. Hesitation flashed in Mal’s eyes as she strapped the tank to her chest. He glared in response and gestured toward the shore. When she still refused to leave, he pointed to his brother and then to her.
Now her eyes were mutinous. Oh, for fuck’s sake…she wouldn’t go. And he didn’t have time to force her as the three swimmers approached. Through the water, Adrian saw the glint of metal in the first man’s hand. Goddammit. A knife. Toney and Jacob swam up behind the others, quickly disabling them. Toney met Adrian’s eyes over the third diver’s shoulder. Adrian jerked his head toward shore, assuring his brother he could handle this one. He would see Mallory to shore if Toney could get Jacob there. Toney nodded, motioned to the younger man and started swimming.
Adrian glanced at Mallory, then looped a finger through his own air hose and made a slicing motion. She frowned and gestured to her hip. No knife.
He’d just have to get Brutus’s. He turned and swam to confront him.
The cold look in the big man’s eyes penetrated his mask as he lunged at Adrian with the knife. Adrian shot an arm out to block Brutus’s aim at his chest and felt a burning across his forearm as the blade sliced through his wetsuit.
Brutus surged forward to grab Adrian’s regulator. Adrian clamped his teeth over it and felt the pressure in his gums as Brutus tried to deprive him of his air supply. He gripped the wrist that tugged at his mouthpiece as he tried to block the arm slashing downward. He didn’t catch it before the blade drove into his biceps. Pain flashed brightly through him as metal scraped bone, but even as he reached for the hilt, Brutus withdrew it, finning backwards.
Adrian had to get some distance between them. With the water resistance, he wasn’t strong enough to punch the guy and do much damage, but his legs were accustomed to moving with force through the water. He pulled away and struck Brutus in the facemask with his foot. The man’s head snapped backwards, his mask cracked. Then Mallory was there, slicing his hoses.
He didn’t have time to question where she’d gotten it. Smoller’s crew wouldn’t have equipment to replace the damaged hoses, not unless they had some tucked away somewhere. They couldn’t follow Adrian’s crew into the water. Adrian and his people were free.
Now they needed to head for shore—they didn’t have enough air to wait around. Mallory had strapped two pony tanks Jacob had given her to her hips and a full-sized tank to her chest, which made her movements awkward as she swam toward him, motioning to his arm. He lifted it for a better look. The movement caused stars to shoot before his eyes. He lowered it again. Swimming the distance to the shore was going to be a bitch.
First, he had to stop the blood.
With his good arm, he pointed in the direction Toney and Jacob had already headed. She had to start swimming. Hanging around was too dangerous. Blood clouded the water. They were bound to get company soon, either human or finned.
Of course, being Mallory, she shook her head and motioned to his arm again. Her movements clumsy around the tank on her chest, she pulled off the pony tanks. She strapped them to his hips before she pulled free a roll of tape from the first aid kit strapped to her belt. Good girl. He hadn’t thought of liberating a first aid kit. She pulled off a strip of waterproof adhesive tape and wrapped it tightly around his arm, first his biceps, then his forearm. The tape closed the wetsuit up temporarily, sealing the blood inside and putting pressure on the wound. Adrian still wasn’t sure how far he’d be able to swim; the pain blinded him with each movement of his arm. Even though the knife was gone, he could still feel it rubbing against the bone.
But he’d be damned if he’d be anywhere in the vicinity when Smoller figured out they weren’t coming up.
Blocking out the pain and the limited mobility in his arm, he started swimming.
Mallory saw the first shadow about five minutes later. Years of diving experience told her exactly what it was, the flip of the tail, the twist of the body.
A shark, sensing blood.
They were about twenty feet down. The shark maneuvered between them and the surface, sunlight shining around him. The tension in Adrian’s body meant he saw it too. He didn’t have the strength to fight, though, if it came close. He didn’t have the strength to outswim it. She would be the first line of defense if it decided to investigate if they were injured.
She tried to recall what she was supposed to do if the shark came too close. Blow bubbles, though she didn’t remember why. Or punch the shark in the nose. She definitely didn’t want to try that.
She glanced at her husband, his usually strong movements limited by his injury. But if she had to…
He tried to maneuver between her and the shark. Damn him and his heroic behavior. When she swam above him, making herself the barrier, he tugged at her fin. She turned to see him scowling—a neat trick with a regulator in his mouth—and gesturing at the shark like she didn’t see it. She jerked her hand to him to stay below her. He didn’t have the strength but his damn stubborn gallantry kept him from listening.
While they were jostling for position, the shark spotted them.
Mallory swam to intercept it, took out her regulator and pointed it in the direction of the fish, a five footer, easily. The bubbles annoyed the fish and it twisted back the way it had come, clearly not interested.
She turned back with a triumphant grin but went on alert when Adrian pointed behind her, his movement frantic.
Her air tanks absorbed the blow, but she hadn’t gotten her regulator back in her mouth. The force of the hit knocked the breath from her. She twisted to see a different shark charging her. She fumbled with her regulator to bring it up to bubble in this shark’s face.
The method didn’t deter this one, a bigger one, a hungrier one. She shoved the regulator in her own mouth, took a fortifying breath before she popped the fish in the nose, its rough skin catching her glove. White teeth flashed as it whipped its head to circle about, not deterred. Damn. Adrenaline sped through her now, telling her muscles to flee, but Adrian couldn’t get away fast enough, and she wouldn’t leave him. The adrenaline made her shaky, made her fingers reaching for the stolen dive knife clumsy. But she was able to draw it out, thrust it under the shark’s jaw, terror giving her the strength to pull the knife free and plunging it in, again and again, finally killing the animal, watching it sink as she processed what she’d done.
Now she had to get away, fast, before other sharks came to devour their brother. She swam to Adrian, grabbed his good arm, urging him forward. He followed, keeping his eyes over his shoulder, waiting for the sharks to appear.
They didn’t, thank God and Mallory’s bravery. But the struggle made them use up more oxygen than Adrian had calculated. No telling how far they’d get now before they ran out of air. He would rather do calculations in his head than relive what he’d just seen Mallory do, the helplessness he’d felt as he watched her get attacked. She was so fucking strong, so fucking smart. He’d almost lost her by trying to save her.
Loss of blood was as disorienting as the narcosis. He could hardly kick his legs. Fatigue pulled at him as the adrenaline drained, but he continued to follow Mallory’s rhythmic motions. He wasn’t even aware how many minutes had passed when his alarm went off, signaling time to change the tanks. He tapped Mallory and gestured for her to turn around so he could check her tanks.
Too soon. They’d used too much air fighting and with the sharks. He handed her a pony tank so he could switch her regulator to the tank she held. She took the pony tank and motioned him to turn around instead. She wanted him to take the big tank.
That was ridiculous. He was more seasoned than she was; he could make the two pony tanks last longer than her big tank.
She gestured to his arm, mimed his inability to swim. Holding a pony tank would make swimming nearly impossible unless they taped it to his chest. If he had the larger tank strapped to his back, his arms would be free.
She was right, though it pained him to admit it. The pony tank would slow him even more. Now he was risking her life because she wouldn’t leave him behind. She lifted her eyebrows when he turned so she could help him switch tanks. The weight fell away, to be replaced with half as much. The pressure on his arm immediately lessened. He blew out a sigh of relief. She strapped the tank tightly to his back—pretty amazing with one hand as she held her own pony tank—then he was breathing again.
He nodded thanks and signaled for her to take it easy on the pony tanks. She rolled her eyes behind her facemask, and they started swimming.
He’d estimated that the shore was about a mile and a half from the site. They should be getting close. He was afraid to surface, didn’t want Smoller to stop them, but he needed to get his bearings. Again, he tapped Mallory’s leg and pointed upward, before he started swimming for the surface. She caught his ankle and tugged, then pointed at herself. He shook his head sharply. He was not going to allow her to expose herself. She jabbed her thumb at her chest, widening her eyes in exasperation, and motioned to his arm again.
He couldn’t let her win this one, not when he was perfectly capable of swimming, of seeing. He’d let her win the tank argument because it only made sense, but this—
But she was already gone. He could see her above him. No way could he catch her.
She returned in under a minute and faced him. She pointed to the shore, held up ten fingers ten times and pointed to her foot. A hundred feet? Not bad. They could do that. She signaled, palm out, for him to wait. But…
She mimed waves and rocks, then straightened her arm so her fingers pointed to the surface and jabbed her flattened hand at her palm, fingers first. He frowned. What the hell? He saw her frustration as she climbed her fingers up her upright arm.
A cliff. Hell. He nodded his understanding. They were off course and they were screwed. They had no place to surface.
He wondered if Toney and Jacob had been able to stay on course, and where they were.
Mallory motioned that they had to keep going, that they had to try. He grimaced, thinking of the waves that could pound them against those rocks, waves they wouldn’t be able to fight.
They swam up a bit, found a current, which they were able to ride awhile. Adrian’s body relaxed since he didn’t have to work so hard.
Too soon, they started having to dodge rocks, still carried by the current, which worked against them now. They had to surface.
Mallory pointed at a shadow slightly below them. He frowned at her as she started to swim toward it, tossing away her empty pony keg, unstrapping her other from her hip. What did she think she was doing?
Still, he followed and saw what she saw.
A cave, just beneath the surface of the water. He hesitated. They had no idea how deep the cave was, how long they’d have to swim before they were able to find air. This would be a dive of faith. Their only other option was to surface and chance getting battered against the rocks. No way could he climb a cliff. They didn’t have the equipment to do so anyway.
God help them. He dove after her into the cave.
The dark water swallowed Mallory. Panic jolted through her. She reached to her left and her hand brushed Adrian. She swam with her hand on his shoulder until he powered up the lights on his facemask.
She followed, swimming along at his right flank, unwilling to let too much distance come between them. The current of low tide pulled at her. She and Adrian couldn’t fight it long. They were already worn out.
Adrian gestured. She looked up at the ceiling. Stalactites dipped into the water. She frowned. With the current, they should have eroded by now. She could see where the seawater had carved them into a comma shape, but they still hung on. Their presence would answer the question of how long this cave had been underwater. She wanted to swim up to them, but Adrian motioned her to follow him. She checked her watch and her depth gauge. They couldn’t stay under much longer; they’d use too much oxygen at this depth.
She followed him deeper and saw a hole surrounded by tumbled boulders, wide enough for them to pass through together. He signaled her to go first. Her heart seized in a moment of apprehension, but she swam through.
The gauge on her pony keg went into the red. She had to take shallower breaths, conserve the remaining oxygen. Adrian swam over, checked her gauge, and worry creased his brow. She waved a hand, trying to blow it off. He motioned to his regulator, flicked his finger between them. If she ran out of air, they’d have to buddy breathe. She nodded and hoped they could find an air pocket before that happened. She didn’t want to disable him further. They’d already reached the point of no return; they didn’t have enough air to swim to the entrance of the cave.
Then even her shallow breaths took the last of the oxygen from the pony tank. Reluctantly, she dropped it and watched it drift down to the ocean floor before she turned toward Adrian. His eyes behind the mask were gentle, almost sad. He offered her his regulator. She took a small breath, tasting him on the plastic and handed it back.
Adrian knew he should have insisted she have the big tank. He couldn’t watch her drown. He took a shallow breath and offered the apparatus back. Her legs bumped his as she moved closer to get it. They tangled for a minute, disengaged as she inhaled, then handed it back.
He caught her hand and squeezed before releasing it. If he never again got to tell her he loved her, if he didn’t have the breath to make the words, she was going to know. She had to know.
He took the regulator, took the smallest breath he dared, handed it over. He didn’t want to watch her die, and he didn’t want to leave her here, alone and afraid. He had to stick around to take care of her.
He realized they were swimming up, that the cave was rising from the water. Mallory pointed, and he saw what she saw—waves lapping at the side of the cave. They had to find air up there. He took a regular breath, offered the regulator to her, and they swam toward the side of the cave. They were going to make it. The huge risk—hell, it hadn’t seemed as huge when he planned it—was going to pay off.
Adrian surfaced first, carefully, not wanting to hit his head on the roof of the cave, or worse, a stalactite. The cool air touched his face and he breathed deeply, then tugged Mallory up beside him. She came up, choked when a small wave slapped her in the face. She gulped in air, which she released on a joyous laugh.
“We made it!”
He wrapped his good arm around her and pulled her close, pressing his cheek against hers as much as their masks allowed.
The words he’d ached to say only minutes ago, that had come easily when they’d been alone on the boat, ready for adventure, suddenly choked him. He’d pulled her into danger and almost lost her. Could still lose her. “You did great,” he said instead.
He drew away to inspect their surroundings. They hadn’t just found an air pocket. A ledge jutted out nearby where they could actually get out of the water. He didn’t know what could be beyond that, but hopefully a way out that didn’t require them getting back in the water. Only about twenty breaths remained in the tank. They’d found this ledge just in time.
He heaved himself onto the jutting rock with no small effort, and Mallory pulled up beside him.
“Wow. Touch and go there for a minute, wasn’t it?” she asked as she stripped off her mask, her voice choppy, as if she was unaccustomed to taking regular breaths.
“Made it.” He grimaced as he tried to unbuckle his tank.
“Here, let me.”
She climbed to her knees and leaned over. Once she tugged the tank free, he stretched out on the smooth rock, filling his lungs in a way he hadn’t thought possible moments ago.
“Let me look at your arm.”
“Inaminute,” he mumbled, letting his eyes drift closed.
“Adrian, I need to see if it’s stopped bleeding.”
“Burns like hell,” he said.
She straddled him and tugged at the zipper of his wetsuit. He closed a hand over her wrist to stop her, but she barely had to twist her arm to break his grip.
“I wish we had blankets,” she murmured as she spread his wetsuit open to reveal his wet T-shirt, red with his own blood.
“We’ll be okay. Just rest a bit, then we’ll see how to get out of here.” He grunted, pain slicing through him as she tried to ease the stretchy neoprene down over his shoulder. “Mallory, leave it.”
“Can’t.” She put her facemask on her forehead for the light and leaned down close to the stab wound. “How did you swim with this?”
He tried to twist his arm to get a look, but the skin tugged and hurt too damn bad. “How bad is it?”
“About two inches long, God knows how deep.”
He closed his eyes again and let his head fall back to the rock. “All the way through my arm.”
She looked up at him sharply.
He lifted his good shoulder and even that took too much effort. “The tip of the knife went all the way through my arm and poked me in the side.”
“Adrian!” Her voice echoed off the cave walls.
He opened his eyes to look at her. “Well, what did you want me to do? Surrender?”
“You could have died.”
Why was she scolding him? He was too tired to fight. “I was pretty fucking determined not to.” He forced himself to sit up, to show he wasn’t weak. He squeezed his eyes closed against the lightheadedness that accompanied the movement. “I’ll be all right.”
Mallory had drawn her knife and aimed it at his stomach. He sucked his gut in automatically.
“Christ! What are you doing?”
She rolled her eyes. “Cutting a strip off your shirt so I can at least wrap it up. It’s still bleeding. Sluggishly, but I think it needs to be protected.”
She sliced into the knit fabric, pulled off a strip, then skimmed her hand over his belly, making him jump. She smiled at his reaction but was all business again as she wrapped his arm. Leaving his arm out, she zipped up his suit as far as she could.
“Where’d you get the knife, anyway?”
“Toney gave it to me. No telling where he got it.”
Adrian grunted. “Come here.” He turned onto his good arm, hooked his bad one around her waist and pulled her to him so her back nestled against his chest.
Finally Mallory’s pulse began to slow as the realization that they weren’t going to die sunk in. “Ade?”
“Yeah?” His voice sounded like he was on the verge of sleep.
She twisted under his arm to face him, even though she couldn’t see him in the darkness. “When we were down there, when I thought we might not make it, I promised myself if we did, the first words I would tell you were that I love you.” She cupped her hand over his rough jaw. “I don’t know what would have happened if I’d died without being able to tell you that one more time.”
He didn’t answer, instead lifted his hand to her face, stroked his thumb over her cheek and lower lip. He knew her so well, he found her without fumbling, drew her mouth to his.
The sweetness of the kiss swept away the fear of their swim, the worry of what they’d do next. They were together. They’d get through this. She couldn’t live without him again. And when he whispered, “I love you, Mal,” she started to cry.
Adrian woke facing the ceiling, shivering, to find Mallory huddled against his side. They’d removed their wet clothes from beneath their wetsuits and put the suits back on, but the chill from the rocks and water still permeated their bones.
Bones. He’d prefer not to think their skeletons would be all that was left of them if they didn’t find a way out of here.
The swim and the hole in his arm made him stiff as hell, but he didn’t want to move and wake Mallory, who slept deeply if her breathing was any indication. He’d let her sleep off her exhaustion. The longer she could put off thinking about their fate, the better.
With his free hand, his injured hand, he reached into his dive belt and pulled the cylindrical seal he’d taken from the ship, the one thing he’d recovered. The lack of light made it impossible to see, but he rubbed his thumb over it. The carved design in the ivory was very faint, but it was his. He wouldn’t have the credit for the Byzantine ship, for proving the Mediterranean people had been the first to the New World. Mallory had lost her opportunity to study the symbols on the artifacts they’d discovered.
They wouldn’t be telling anyone what kind of person Valentine Smoller was, what lengths he took for his success, his recognition.
If they didn’t find a way out of here, then he’d brought Mallory to her death after all.
Beside him, she stretched and huffed. How familiar it sounded, even with the echo of the cave around them. She snuffled and he sensed her looking at him.
“Don’t suppose you thought about packing any food,” she murmured.
“No. Not even water.” He shifted onto his side with a grunt. “Damn, we weren’t supposed to be in here.”
She sat but kept a hand on his chest. For contact? He wasn’t sure why, but he appreciated the gesture.
“We’ll find a way out.”
Funny how the dark did sharpen one’s senses. He believed that she believed that. He didn’t want to dim her hope. That was all they’d brought with them.
“How’s your arm?”
“Hurts like a bitch, but I’ll live.” How long depended on how soon they could get out of here. He sat slowly, unsure of how low the ceiling was.
“No doubt Smoller thinks we’re dead.”
“He can’t come after us anyway.” Adrian told Mallory what he’d done to the boats and equipment.
If Smoller did believe they were dead, they were safe. Once they got out of here, anyway. And then…what? They could pursue justice for the loss of Robert and Linda. Adrian hadn’t allowed his thoughts to wander that far. Their priority was getting to safety. “Yeah, so? We can’t swim out the way we came, not with no air.”
“Right, but this area should have sinkholes, too, right?” Her voice vibrated with excitement, with anticipation. “And if we can find one, we can get out.”
He snorted, hating to ruin her plans. “Climb out of a sinkhole? With no equipment and me with a bad arm?”
She tensed. “I could climb out. Get help. Don’t forget, Toney and Jacob are out there.”
He hadn’t dimmed her faith, not that he’d wanted to. One of the things he’d always loved best about Mallory was her ability to hope, be it over a find or over him. But the realist in him had to make her see their chances.
“Wait here.” She shifted away. “I’ll try to swim as long as I can stay above water, see if there’s another ledge like this one, maybe one with a way out.”
“Mallory.” He grabbed her arm to still her. “I won’t risk you.”
“What?” She pulled away, irritation tightening her body. “You can’t do it. Or you’re just going to sit here till we starve to death? I don’t think so. I’ll be right back.” She leaned close and pressed a kiss to his jaw, then his mouth, all by feel.
He grunted again, frustrated with his own helplessness, unwilling to release her. So much could go wrong—she could get lost, drown, become trapped—but what choice did they have? “I wish we had a rope so you could find your way back.”
“I’ll stay along the wall.” She gentled her tone. “I’ll be all right.”
Before he could offer another protest, she slipped into the water.
Mallory’s muscles quivered at the idea of swimming another stroke, but with Adrian wounded, she had no choice. When she’d made her decision to join the expedition, to return to Adrian, she never expected this to be asked of her. She hadn’t thought herself capable. She had to dig down to find the fearless girl she’d been, otherwise she couldn’t get through this.
Keeping one hand on the cool, slick cave wall, she bobbed along until she found another dead-end ledge farther up, but the ceiling dipped down into the water, blocking her path. Discouragement tore at her. She had to dive to move forward, holding her breath, see what she could find underwater. She surfaced, then dove several times before finding an indentation that might be an entrance to another part of the cave.
Adrian called her name, his voice echoing off the rock.
“I might have found something,” she called, and dove again, keeping her hand on the ceiling above her.
And when she emerged on the other side, she was blinking at sunlight, and a hand reached down to her.