CHAPTER 15
“KURT!” CAITLYN’S HEART collapsed as he disappeared over the edge.
He was a strong swimmer, and the jump was survivable if he went in feet first, but his hands were tied and his legs might weigh him down. Were they buoyant? She had no idea.
To her right, her sister screamed and jumped as the guard moved to push her off the cliff.
“No! Rose!” Caitlyn twisted in her captor’s grasp.
Glenn jerked his chin and backed away from her. The iron grip on her arms disappeared and she stumbled, caught off guard.
Then she rocketed toward the cliff.
At the last minute, she diverted her path and thrust her shoulder into Glenn’s midsection.
He cried out, desperately trying to regain his footing. Instead, he ran out of earth and they both went over the edge. Growling in rage, he grabbed at her face.
Too soon, they crashed into the cool, choppy water and onto the rocks a few feet below the surface. She landed on him, momentarily stunned at the impact as her body bounced and rolled toward the deeper water, sucked away from Glenn and the cliffs by a retreating wave turned pink with blood. Paddling to keep her head above water, she gasped for breath.
Something snagged her ankle, momentarily pulling her under. She fought her way to the surface and looked back. Glenn’s hand encircled her lower leg. Blood streamed down the side of his snarling face.
Twenty yards away, Rose’s head popped out of the water.
She disappeared again.
“Rose!” Caitlyn used her free leg to kick at Glenn’s head until she connected. She pummeled him again and again with her foot until his grip released.
Finally free, she dove for Rose.
If Kurt knew anything, it was how to hold his breath.
As part of his PJ training, he’d spent six weeks in the Special Forces Combat Diver Qualification Course “drown-proofing” himself. Which basically meant learning how to overcome the fear that overtakes a man when he can’t breathe.
Occasionally, it meant actually passing out and having to be yanked to the deck where he woke up being slapped in the face, the trainers hurling questions at him. After a quick visit to the medic for some fluids, he’d be back in the pool in under an hour.
He was practically part sea mammal, and if not for his bound hands, and the fact that his legs were half dead weight, he could have been out of rifle range in seconds.
Instead, he dolphin kicked across the sea floor—he only needed a few feet of water to protect him from bullets—fighting to stay below the surface. His prosthetic legs weren’t heavy enough to counteract his body’s natural buoyancy.
Bright dots swam into his vision, dancing like fireflies on a summer night as his lungs begged for him to breathe.
Crouching, he pushed off, rocketing toward the surface. If he survived, he’d write a glowing letter to the manufacturer of his military-grade legs, which were still functioning despite being submerged in seawater. They had been marketed as waterproof, but this went above and beyond.
He breached the water and gulped air. Gunshots blasted the space around him, pinging into the water near his head. Something hit his leg with a dull, metallic clang. So much for being spared death by bullet.
Diving fast, he wedged himself against a ledge halfway down, still safe from the hail of gunfire, but closer to oxygen. Moving quickly, he worked his wrists against the sharp rocks at his back, the waves pushing and prodding to dislodge him from his perch as he tried to ignore the burn in his lungs.
Ow, fuck. He’d caught his right forearm on an edge and a small stream of blood swirled around him. Hopefully, the sharks were busy elsewhere.
He’d nearly reached his limit when the bindings gave way. The rocks slashed his arm again, but he was free. Up for more air.
Inhaling sweet oxygen, he pulled hard against the current, his shoulders and arms on fire as circulation was restored. His legs weren’t made for swimming, but he got the job done with a sloppy kick, propelling himself toward the far side of the outcropping.
Bullets peppered the water above him as he dove again. His entire body tightened in anticipation of getting hit.
When he broke the surface for another breath, gunfire still echoed across the water.
His thighs burned. He pressed on.
Finally out of sight of the gunmen, he clung to the rocks for several deep breaths and then worked his way around the pile of boulders toward the other cove below where Rose had been standing just minutes earlier.
A motor sounded nearby. Shit. If Lambert’s men were on the water—
An ocean swell lifted him enough to see a small boat approaching from the open water, carrying a lone figure with no obvious weapon. The salt water and the sun’s reflection off the water blurred his vision. He blinked but couldn’t make out who was in the dinghy.
He waved it back. The guards weren’t very accurate with their AK-47s, but the boat was well within the rifle’s effective range. Too close.
But then he realized the shooting had stopped.
The outboard motor roared as the little boat crested a wave and dropped into the trough.
“Hey!” A trim man with short gray hair and a deep tan kneeled in the boat, wearing only board shorts and sunglasses. He threw out a lifesaver.
Kurt stuck one arm through the ring and awkwardly paddled toward the dinghy. The man helped him up and into the boat.
“There are others,” Kurt said, pointing north, his arm heavy as lead. Had they made it? Fear and despair were a rip current threatening to drag him under, but he refused to accept that Caitlyn and Rose hadn’t survived.
Already turning, the man said, “My daughter and I saw everything from our boat.” His accent marked him as American. “What the hell’s going on?”
“We got in the way of a human trafficking operation.”
“Shit.”
“Pretty much.” Kurt surveyed the cliffs. Why had the gunfire stopped? “Thank you for picking me up.”
“I tried the police but got no response.”
Kurt’s heart skipped. “Thank God for that. Most of them are part of it.”
“Wish I could say I’m surprised.”
As they rounded the last pile of rocks into the next cove, the reason for the sudden silence became clear. On the promontory, Glenn’s men were on their knees, hands in the air. Shaylee’s friend in the police force must have come through. The other victims would be rescued. Score one for the honest cops.
But right now Kurt had another priority.
As the entire inlet came into view, his blood turned cold. Red water shimmered at the base of the cliff.
And then Caitlyn breached the ocean’s surface, swimming toward him on her side, gripping an unconscious Rose across the chest.
“Caitlyn!” He sat up in the boat, energy surging through him. She’s alive. His throat closed up and he blinked a few times.
The old man tossed Caitlyn the life ring and pulled Rose into the boat, raising an eyebrow at Rose’s bound hands before using a knife sheathed at his waist to cut through the ropes. His fatigue forgotten, Kurt ignored the unbearable urge to reach for Caitlyn and moved to deal with Rose as the other man helped her sister climb aboard.
Kurt put his ear next to Rose’s nose and mouth. No air. No rise and fall of her chest.
He checked for a pulse. Nothing.
The engine whined and the dinghy made a sharp turn away from shore.
Caitlyn sat at Rose’s feet, gripping the handle on the side of the boat. “Is she breathing?”
He shook his head and laid Rose as flat as possible. Angling as close to her chest as he could get in the confined space, he tilted her head back to open her airway and check for obstructions. Finding none, he pinched her nose shut and gave her two rescue breaths. Then he started chest compressions, trying to find a balance between using the right amount of force and staying low enough that he wouldn’t topple into the sea, ignoring the fire in his right arm.
Within seconds, the engine shut down and the little watercraft bumped up against something. Kurt finished his first round of compressions and checked for breath. Still nothing. Come on.
“Rose.” Caitlyn cried.
“Come here.” An unfamiliar woman’s voice came from his left, but he didn’t stop to look.
Kurt was vaguely aware of the small boat emptying as he fell into a routine, his training taking over as he repeated the CPR cycle. Halfway through his third round of chest compressions Rose vomited, mostly water.
He rolled her to her side and cleared her airway, but she still wasn’t breathing. She still had no pulse.
Caitlyn let the twenty-something brunette lead her onto the sailboat only so she wouldn’t be in Kurt’s way as he worked on Rose. A sob escaped Caitlyn’s lips and she dropped onto a bench overlooking the dive platform.
“I’m Tessa Murphy and this is my dad, Oliver,” the woman said as she laid a towel over Caitlyn’s shoulders. The skin revealed by her bikini top and shorts already betrayed a lifetime of sun exposure. “My dad and I have been moored here for several days. We had just come on deck this morning when we saw you up on the cliffs. He tried to raise the harbor police, but couldn’t get through.”
“Good,” Caitlyn said. “We can’t trust them.”
Tessa’s brow furrowed. “What happ—
Rose vomited and Caitlyn’s heart jerked. That was a good sign, right?
But Kurt rolled her onto her side, cleared her airway, checked for breath and pulse, and went back to compressions.
Please, please. If she lives, I’ll be the best damn sister ever. I’ll tell her every day that I love her. I’ll never push her away again.
Caitlyn’s mind had betrayed her. All those defenses she had built up over the years to protect herself from the hurt and pain of losing someone. First watching Kurt go over the edge, and then Rose. The brick had crumbled and emotions now pierced her walls as easily as arrows through paper.
This was what she’d spent her entire adult life trying to avoid. It hadn’t been worth it. Not by a long shot. She’d allowed herself little of the joy, but still suffered all the pain.
And now she might lose Rose. If anyone deserved to be fighting for her life on the floor of that boat, it was Caitlyn. She was the one who pushed everyone who mattered away. The one who floated through life without bringing any value or joy to others. The one who hurt those who cared about her most by walking away.
How are you any better than your dad?
The truth gutted her. Just like her father, she had effectively abandoned everyone.
The most important people in her world were both on that dinghy, fighting for her sister’s life. They were everything good in this world. Self-sacrificing, honest, compassionate. And for some reason, they both loved her.
Rose threw up more seawater, and this time she started coughing. Coughing meant air.
Oh, thank God. Caitlyn slid to her knees on the deck and forced herself not to rush the dinghy.
Her sister quieted and tried to push herself up. Kurt put a hand behind Rose’s shoulders and helped her sit, murmuring to her. Her wet clothes clung, betraying the slight curve of her belly.
Rose listened and then shook her head.
“Okay,” Kurt said, sliding his other arm beneath Rose’s knees. “Ready?”
She nodded and he lifted her high enough to hand her off to Oliver, who carried her up the step to the deck and sat her on a bench that ran parallel to the boat’s starboard side.
Tessa rushed over with a dry towel and then backed out of the way.
Tears streaming down her face, Caitlyn mouthed “Thank you,” to Kurt and scrambled to her sister’s side. “Are you okay?”
Stupid question, but Rose produced a weak smile and rubbed a hand over her chest. She’d probably have bruises, but all that mattered was that she was alive.
“I was so worried. I’m sorry, Rose.” Caitlyn gave her a gentle hug, careful not to put any weight on her or restrict her breathing in any way.
Rose tapped her throat.
“You can’t talk?”
This time she tapped her nose, and Caitlyn laughed, still feeling shaky, but happier than she’d been in years.
“As soon as we get to land, I’ll call Shaylee. She’s been a wreck.”
Tears welled in her sister’s eyes and streamed down her sallow face. Caitlyn squeezed Rose’s hand and sat down next to her, blinking against the burn in her eyes.
At the aft of the boat, Kurt helped Oliver secure the dinghy, and then they huddled with Tessa, speaking in low tones. Kurt’s arm dripped blood. Why wasn’t he doing anything about his injury?
The group broke up and the young woman passed Rose and Caitlyn on her way to the cabin, as Oliver started the sailboat’s backup engines. “I’ll be right back,” she said, disappearing into the belowdecks.
Kurt slowly made his way over and stood in front of Rose, putting his hands on his thighs to look her in the eye. “So, I’m Kurt Steele, by the way. I’m a paramedic and a friend of Caitlyn’s. How are you feeling?”
Rose reached up and hugged him so hard she almost knocked him off balance. “Thank you,” she croaked.
When she released him, Kurt straightened and looked up briefly, blinking. Then he gave her the easy smile that made Caitlyn’s heart tilt. “Of course.” He cleared his throat. “Uh, hey, we need to get you to a hospital for observation, okay? Probably twenty-four hours just to make sure you don’t have any complications. Let me or Caitlyn know if you have increased trouble breathing or any other symptoms that worry you.” He glanced at her belly, but didn’t say anything about the baby.
“Okay.”
“Kurt,” Caitlyn said, gesturing to his arm, “you’re hurt. Were you shot?”
He glanced down and stared for a second. Then he grimaced. “It’s fine. Just a graze from a bullet and some sharp rocks. Tessa went below for the first aid kit.” His gaze returned to her. “You doing okay?”
Without thinking, she stood and wrapped her arms around him. “Thank you for saving her.”
He gripped her tight. “You’re the one who dragged her out of the water. Honey, you were goddamned amazing.”
She ran her fingers through his wet hair and pressed kisses to his face. “I thought… God, Kurt, I thought you were…” She sobbed and pushed back so he only held her shoulders. “You jumped!”
“Hey,” he said, his voice hoarse. “So did you.” He tucked a piece of damp hair behind her ear and shivered. “I was scared out of my mind—”
She kissed him hard.
Before he could even respond, she pulled out of his embrace and dropped onto the bench, her heart staging an escape attempt.
It was too much. Her body was on emotional overload. She could hardly breathe.
Kurt caressed her hair and then let his hand drop as he turned away, striding to the helm to speak to Oliver. She almost chased after him.
Tessa emerged from the cabin bearing blankets, bottled water, and a red first aid kit. She gave the first two to the women. “We should be ashore soon, but if you need anything else, let me know.”
“Thank you,” Caitlyn said. “For everything.”
Tessa smiled. “Absolutely. I’m just glad we could help.”
When the woman left them alone, Rose gripped Caitlyn’s hand. “You saved me,” Rose said, her voice sounding like it had been sandpapered.
“You doubted?” Caitlyn squeezed her hand and took a deep breath. “I know I suck at this, but…I love you, Shortcake.”
Her sister smiled and then coughed, her tight curls dripping water. “I love you too.” They watched the turquoise water in silence as the boat sliced through the waves like a jet through the sky.
“I guess I should finally learn to swim,” Rose said.
They both laughed, a bit hysterical after everything that had happened.
“God, I missed you,” Caitlyn said. “I’m sorry for abandoning you and the family.”
“You’re here now. You came for me.”
That would have to count. Maybe one of these days Rose and Mike and their mom would forgive her.
Rose’s free hand slid low on her abdomen. After a full minute, she said, “I’m going to keep it.” Her voice was coming easier now.
What to say to that? The little one was innocent, but could Rose bear to love or keep a child conceived under such circumstances? And while she knew that Shaylee loved her sister, relationships had fallen apart under far less strain.
Rose met her gaze. “I deserve to have something beautiful come out of this.”
Caitlyn swallowed hard, her throat tight. Biology didn’t matter. She would love Rose’s baby as much as she loved its mother. “I’ll support you no matter what.”
Rose took her hand. “I know.” Where did her strength of conviction come from? She trusted Caitlyn more than Caitlyn trusted herself.
Caitlyn’s gaze strayed to her left where Kurt now sat on the back bench, covered with a blanket while Oliver wrapped the wound on his arm—finally—and Tessa steered the boat.
Kurt locked eyes with Caitlyn. She ached to go to him, but she wasn’t ready to face the enormity of her feelings.
Embracing him and his love meant giving up everything she’d worked for. Not just her business or her dream life on Barbados.
One didn’t lightly take a sledgehammer to the last of her defenses.
What if his declaration, his attraction wasn’t real? What if it had been the novelty of seeing her again after so long? Or the adrenaline rush that came with the danger they had been in? Or lust mistaken for more?
She didn’t trust her own feelings any more than his. How could she, when she had no experience with them?
Love was supposed to be beautiful and wondrous and make you happy. So why was looking at Kurt so painful?
Rose squeezed her hand, pulling away her attention. “He’s not like your dad,” she said. “Or mine.”
A little shock hit Caitlyn’s chest, a pebble dropped into smooth water. How did Rose know?
“Dad,” Tessa said from behind the helm, her voice tight. “We have company.”
Off the port side, several speedboats approached, lights flashing. The St. Isidore Royal Police.
No. Caitlyn’s pulse thundered in her ears. They had almost made it to shore. There was nowhere to run.
She locked eyes with Kurt, reading the same concern that strummed her veins. If these cops worked for the Lamberts, everyone on the sailboat was dead.