His gut told him she was on this cargo ship. He’d never performed an air drop to the deck of a moving ship before, but he was prepared to freefall if it meant reaching her.
Boone nudged his arm. Ross glanced up.
“Christ, Ross. Don’t look at me that way.”
He didn’t ask what way—he knew his heart and soul were somewhere out there, alone and afraid.
“The pilot says the winds are right, and he can fly low enough that we can make a short jump to the ship. The Coast Guard is boarding it as we speak.”
“Jesus Christ.” He started to stand, and Boone pulled him down.
“We’re three minutes out. Are you up for this? You can’t make any mistakes, Ross.”
“I know it.”
“Get out of your fucking head right now.”
Boone’s harsh command infused his backbone with the steel he needed. When the three minutes were up, and the pilot gave the word, Ross moved to the opening. Wind cut across him and snatched away his hat. Well, that was one casualty lost at sea, and he wouldn’t be another.
When he made the jump, his gaze was locked to the deck. His feet struck hard, and he tumbled into a roll. Boone touched down behind him, and Ross leaped up, instantly ready to fight, to kill if need be.
“Start the search,” he said to Boone and the men from the Coast Guard standing in front of him. “Time is running out.”
* * * * *
Pippa’s cheek dug into the rough, splintered wood beneath her. She lay on her side, the thrum of the vessel moving through the water her only link to reality.
Her mind played tricks on her. She thought she heard Ross’s voice. It echoed through her skull, took over her pulse. Their last moments together slammed her from all angles, until she could almost feel his arms around her.
I can’t give up. I have to reach him.
She shoved herself into a sitting position. Scooting against the wall of the container she’d been locked inside, she battled to find a way out. She slapped her head against the wood. It created a hollow ringing noise.
Could anybody hear that?
She did it again. And again. When her head started to hurt, she used her feet, lifting them and throwing them down on the floor of the crate over and over again.
As kids, she and the Wynton boys had played war in the woods bordering the ranch. She and Ross had escaped capture, and they lay on their bellies, hushed into silence and evading the footsteps of the other kids searching for them.
Ross had begun to tap a finger on the ground, and when she looked at him in question, he whispered, “Morse code. Do you know it?”
She shook her head.
He tapped the ground and said, “A.” She imitated him, through the entire alphabet until she knew it forward and backward and inside out.
The rhythm of her boots changed. She tapped out an S-O-S. Again and again. If nobody heard her, then at least she’d tried. She hadn’t gone down without a fight for her life.
Inside the hood and tape, she got little air. Dizziness was her constant companion. It made her imagine things. She and Ross riding horses, galloping across the majestic fields of the Wynton Ranch. The wind in her hair.
In her mouth.
A ripping sound hit her ears first, and then the shouts filtered in. The hood left her face, and she didn’t think to gulp in until cool air rushed across her lips.
Strong arms lifted her off the floor. She tipped against a hard chest, her head lolling.
“Pippa! Pippa, wake up!”
Ross.
What a sweet dream. She didn’t want to wake up.
“Pippa, goddammit, wake up!” The command broke through her haze, and she cracked an eye. Bright lights shot straight to her brain stem, jolting her. She thrashed, and the person holding her crushed her more tightly to his chest.
She gasped in a deep breath and flooded her nose with Ross’s scent.
“Get a medic!” he bellowed. “Cut these fucking ties off her!”
His arms never left her as people freed her arms and legs. A plastic mask hovered over her face, delivering precious oxygen her body had been starved of.
Slowly, everything came into focus—first, Ross’s face.
Tears overflowed as she centered on his rugged features and knew she was alive—and he was the reason for it.
She hardly registered being transferred to another ship, this time outside of a shipping container. She was not being slow-boated to China. Had they caught Meredith?
Ross sat on the deck, his spine pressed to the side. She lay across his lap, head tucked under his chin. She pulled away. “It was Meredith.”
His eyes sparked. “I know.”
“Did you catch her?”
“There’s a manhunt taking place.” His gaze moved over her face and fell away. He didn’t look at her again.
The tendon in the crease of his jaw flickered, and she knew Ross’s rage when faced with it. Pulling out of his hold, she sat up in his lap.
“Ross.”
His jaw set more firmly.
“Ross. Look at me.”
He didn’t.
“I know you must be angry with me for leaving the room. I needed to talk to Meredith—to get closure about what happened between you two.”
His gaze jerked to hers and skittered away.
With a shock, she realized he wasn’t angry with her—he was stuck in his own head. Battling with himself.
She grabbed his face and forced him to meet her gaze. “Ross, it’s okay now. You found me. I’m here. I’m safe now.”
His stare penetrated her deep. His chest gave one heave and then he issued a shuddering sigh. He flexed his arms around her, crushing her against him, and she didn’t want to be anywhere but here.
His lips moved over her hair. “I’m so sorry, honey.”
“You found me.”
“Because you were tapping out S-O-S in Morse code.”
She blinked. “I thought that was a dream.”
He kissed her brow. “No, it was real. You helped me find you. Thank God I found you.”
A pair of denim-clad legs moved into her field of vision. She followed the long legs up to Boone’s face. “We dock in five minutes.”
Ross nodded. Boone started to turn to go.
“Boone,” she called out.
He swung back.
“Thank you.” Her voice came out as a croak.
He gave her the Wynton nod. The dipping motion put tears of relief in her eyes at the thought of seeing them all again. And her own family too.
Ross drew her head down to his chest. “Don’t ever scare me like that again, woman.” His grumble vibrated through her.
She found his arm and clamped her fingers on it. “We have a problem now, Ross.”
He met her eyes. “What’s that?”
“One of us is going to have to quit our job—because we can’t be parted. Ever again.”
He swooped in, and the soft brush of his lips on hers lifted her heart on wings of love.
Epilogue
Ross let the door of the conference room slam behind him. The noise echoed through the silence of the space, and so did his boots thumping the hardwood floor as he approached the table of men.
Each one had removed his white hat, and they set on the table before them. Several raised their heads as he neared. Some, like Boone and Josiah, had their heads bowed in contemplative silence.