Mustang held a high-powered spotlight used mostly by law enforcement. Jag was holding another as he stood next to him, searching as well. They scanned the waves in front of them as Pid and Aleck searched the water on either side of the boat. Slate was in the back doing the same. Midas was driving, plowing through the waves as if they weren’t even there.
The rain fell almost sideways, pelting the boat and its occupants, but Mustang didn’t even feel it. He was soaked to the bone, but merely blinked the water out of his eyes when it interfered with his sight.
They’d studied the coordinates Perry had retrieved from the GPS data and charted a distance about five miles from the Pinnacle, where they’d said they’d be fishing. Then they’d gone to Penguin Bank and the boat had been idle there for about forty-five minutes before making a beeline for the shore…more than an hour before the boat should have docked at noon.
The surveillance cameras at the Ko Olina Marina had shown a single man leaving the Fish Tales after haphazardly parking the boat. He hadn’t even pulled into a slip, had just pulled up to the end of the dock and wrapped the rope around the light pole. Officers were working on tracking where the man had gone from there, but Mustang knew where he was headed. Back to New York.
Pid had identified him as Andrew Ferry, one of Paul’s capos. There had been no record of him leaving New York, but he was obviously using a false name to travel under. Kai had called him “Steven.”
Slate hadn’t said much about his phone call with the infamous Tex, except to relay the man was “on it.”
At the moment, Mustang couldn’t think about anything past finding Elodie. They’d deal with the Columbus family once he had her back safe and sound. The alternative, that he wouldn’t be able to find her, was unthinkable and unacceptable.
But the longer they went back and forth in a grid pattern in the area where the last coordinates had shown the Fish Tales to be, and where it was likely Kai had been shot and Elodie had jumped overboard, the more stressed Mustang got.
“Come on, where are you?” he muttered, knowing he wouldn’t be heard over the sound of the engine, the wind, and rain. His eyes strained to pick out even the smallest thing that was out of place.
Then something moved off to his left.
Mustang swung the light around and watched as a dolphin leaped out of one wave, into another. It did it again…or maybe it was a second dolphin, Mustang wasn’t sure. It wasn’t unusual to see dolphins in the ocean, but these weren’t playing at the bow of the boat or in their wake. They seemed to be traveling the same speed as the boat.
Mustang couldn’t take his eyes off the animals. He’d always enjoyed watching the dolphins play, but there seemed to be more to their actions than jumping through the boat’s waves. But then again, he could be imagining things.
For a split second, the boat rose to the top of a wave before crashing down—but that was all it took for Mustang to see something else. Something that made his heart almost stop in his chest.
He banged on the plexiglass protecting Midas as he stood at the helm and pointed to the left. He’d seen something on the other side of where the dolphins had been jumping in and out of the waves.
The boat immediately turned in that direction. The waves now crashed against the boat sideways, which was dangerous as it could swamp the fishing vessel, but Mustang didn’t care. Obviously, Midas didn’t either as he headed in the direction Mustang had indicated.
At first he thought he’d been seeing things that weren’t there. All around them were nothing but white caps. And they were headed away from Oahu now, not toward it, the direction they assumed Elodie would try to go if she was conscious.
But then, as another wave crashed against the boat, Mustang saw what he was looking for. What they were all looking for.
A person was floating face up in the storm. Lying still as if taking a nap.
Mustang held up his fist, the universal sign for “stop,” but Midas had already seen what he had and cut the engine.
Mustang’s teammates crowded around him, and he shoved his light at Aleck. He ripped off his boots and shoved his pants down his legs. Not bothering to strip off his T-shirt, Mustang dove off the front of the boat without hesitation.
Not one of his teammates tried to stop him. They were well aware he could hold his own in the angry ocean. They’d trained for this shit, and no one would get between him and his woman.
Mustang knew his team would be steering the boat as close as they could get, and readying the first-aid kit and whatever else was needed to take care of Elodie until they could get her to shore, but his attention was on the woman floating just in front of him. His arms moved through the water faster than he’d ever moved before—and suddenly he was next to her.
For a fraction of a second, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. If he should just grab her or if he should let her know he was there, to avoid scaring her.
And of course, the thought that she was dead wouldn’t leave his mind. If he touched her, and she was stiff and cold, he’d never recover.
But in typical Elodie fashion, she took the decision out of his hands. As if she sensed him next to her, her eyes popped open and she stared up at him.
“Took you long enough,” she said, almost too softly for him to hear.
Mustang wanted to laugh and cry. God, he fucking loved this woman.
He slipped an arm around her chest and pulled her against him, resting her body partially on top of his as they floated in the waves. She felt cold, too fucking cold. She was also very lethargic and didn’t move at all. Mustang felt her body completely relax against his.
“Sorry it took so long, babe. But I’m here now.”
“Hate the ocean,” she mumbled.
“I know you do, but I’m so fucking proud of you,” he told her.
“Kai…” Her voice trailed off.
Mustang eyed the boat with his teammates, coming closer. “He’s okay. He’s alive.”
“He is? Thank God! I jumped,” she informed him.
“I know, Kai told us.”
“Did you find Steven?”
Luckily, Slate was reaching for them at that moment, so he didn’t have to break the news that the man who’d done his best to kill her and her friend had escaped…still lived to try to kill her again.
Slate held on to Mustang’s shoulders as Pid reached for Elodie.
“Don’t fight them, El, we’ll have you out of the water in two seconds.”
“Don’t like the ocean…” she repeated.
And just as he’d promised, thirty seconds later, both he and Elodie were out of the waves and she was lying on the deck of the fishing vessel they’d borrowed. As Midas floored it and headed back toward shore, Aleck wrapped a mylar warming blanket around her. Mustang curled up against her side as Jag kneeled on her other side to start an IV.
It wasn’t the ideal conditions for attempting to stick a needle into her vein, but the SEALs had operated under much worse conditions, and within seconds, Jag had a saline line hooked up in her arm.
Mustang kept his eyes on Elodie’s. She looked horrible. Even in the meager light from the cabin of the boat he could tell her face was sunburnt beyond anything he’d seen before. Her lips were dry and cracked as well.
“Temp’s ninety-four point three,” Pid warned.