“We’ve got a survivor.” Jer’s overly enthusiastic voice seemed oddly disembodied as it came through the headset.
Faisal didn’t respond, not even to the whoop that followed Jer’s statement. Neither were something that needed a response. Neither the enthusiasm nor the words that preceded it needed confirmation. They had all seen, as the waves rocked the raft, the movement within the small craft. But the move had been slight and gave no indication as to the condition of their survivor. Those thoughts ran through his mind as he focused on the details of his descent.
Sam turned and gave him a thumbs-up.
Faisal returned the gesture feeling pumped and optimistic.
The ocean was rough and the raft was clearly visible now. In fact, they were close enough to see that the survivor was alone, and that she was no longer moving. They could also see that her feet were bare. Her peach-colored wrap barely covered her torso and was the only spot of color against the dark gray craft and the stormy gray of the ocean only hinting at blue. Her dark hair spread like tangled clumps of seaweed around her. Her body seemed to rock with the movement of the water, rising and falling, offering no resistance. It was as if she were barely alive and, despite the movement they’d seen minutes earlier, that they might be too late.
Faisal pushed that thought away. He was poised at the open doorway, wanting to move into action.
“She looks in rough shape,” Jer said as he turned the helicopter around, bringing it closer to the raft. He cleared his throat. They both knew that despite Jer’s earlier enthusiasm, which was so typical of him, that what he said now only reflected his doubt that they had a survivor at all.
“We’ll get her to Mercy in Miami.”
“I’ll let them know the status and give the Coast Guard a heads-up too.”
“Possible survivor,” he said for Jer’s benefit so that he could relay the information. He only prayed it was true. If it were, they’d got here in the nick of time. She was in the middle of nowhere and way underdressed for the overnight conditions. Water in the life raft was causing it to list and that only caused more waves to crest the top of the small craft and fill it with more water. It was only a matter of time before this life raft sank.
They were closer now and it was clearer than it had been earlier that she wasn’t dead. She’d moved. It had only been a slight, maybe involuntary action because she’d been still since but it was movement. Relief raced through him while at the same time he wished more than just the three of them were here to rescue her. If they’d had time they would have brought a medic with them. But the timing had been off and the swiftness with which they’d had to move out had prevented any of that. The only thing they could do was make tracks to the emergency room.
It was a fairly easy descent. What wasn’t going to be easy was the landing. It wasn’t something he’d done in a while but it wasn’t unfamiliar, none of it was, not the work nor the pilot he was currently working with. Jer and he had worked together before many times and, despite his idiosyncrasies, he was one of the best.
Minutes later he was lowering himself toward the raft. He waved at Sam once as he gave a direction before twisting in the wind churned up by the helicopter blades. He angled toward the raft as much as he could but the conditions were against him. The wind was kicking up faster than he’d anticipated. The life raft was rocking in the waves. Despite Jer’s expertise in keeping the helicopter in position, and Sam’s with the winch line, it was taking all his skill to keep on target.
Already, he could see that this rescue was going to be much more difficult than they’d thought. They’d factored in as much as they could. While the wind had been part of that, there was no correcting for the force of the wind twisting him as he descended. That combined with a rough ocean had both the weather and the raft working against them. She’d moved only once since that slight movement almost ten minutes ago when they’d first spotted her. Had both times only been a figment of his imagination? Had it been only the result of the freefall of the raft as it fell within the trough of the waves? Yet he’d factored that, and they hadn’t thought so at the time. Still, he wondered.
Dark hair streamed down her back. He was close enough now to see that she was slim and long legged, and while he shouldn’t be sure without seeing her face, he knew without doubt who she was. And his heart pounded in response to that knowing.
He wanted to hurry the last few seconds up, get on the raft. But he couldn’t rush, couldn’t afford a mistake. Instead he took in details, as if that would take the edge off his impatience. She had little on, a silk cover that was soaked and covered nothing. What looked like a man’s jacket was draped over her ankles like it had slipped down during the night. Her face was hidden from him by her hair. That was a concern for she was lying facedown. She could have suffocated against the rubber or drowned in the water that covered some of the bottom of the dinghy.
Ava. It had to be her. But if it was, this wasn’t how he’d imagined their reunion. This wasn’t how he’d imagined her at all. It had been five years since he’d seen her. She’d texted him a couple of times and he’d texted back and then they’d both gotten caught up in their own lives. They’d been friends and yet there’d been something else there. They’d both felt it and yet they’d never acted on it.
Ava. He’d never forgotten her.
It was odd to be thinking such things in the dark heart of a rescue. All his attention should be focused on landing in rough seas. Normally he would have focused but nothing about this situation was normal. His feet tentatively touched the edge of the raft and then lifted off. It was too small. He didn’t know if it would hold both of them.
He had to try.
She moved.
Even in the awkward position he was in, relief shot through him. The wind twisted him yet again and he fought to come in at the right angle, to position himself with feet on the raft, not in the water. Either way, he’d get to her, but getting wet wasn’t in his plan. At least, it wasn’t the option he’d choose.
He pushed those thoughts aside. He needed to concentrate on the task ahead of him. He was hanging just over the life raft. As he determined how much of his weight the small vessel could take, she turned onto her side and opened her eyes. He put his foot down on the rubber to stop a slight spin. It was the last thing he did for over half a minute as he was caught in a memory he’d thought was long forgotten. It had been a youthful connection replaced by the reality called life and the space of five years. But the depths of those blue eyes reminded him that he’d never forgotten. The connection was brief. She closed her eyes again with a sigh as if she knew that she was safe even as she slipped back into unconsciousness. He couldn’t waste time looking at her pale face or the full lips that were almost as pallid as the porcelain skin of her slim neck. There wasn’t time to consider anything—she needed to get medical help. He went over her with quick hands and eyes. He made sure that there wasn’t any injury that needed immediate attention, no blood or awkward positioning of limbs. There was nothing except an unnatural stillness that meant she’d slipped back into unconsciousness. A pass of his hand beneath her nostrils told him that she continued to breathe.
He had to get her into the helicopter and to the hospital as quickly as possible. The mysteries of why she was here and where her father was would have to remain just that. The US Coast Guard, the Bahamas Air Sea Rescue Association and a swarm of volunteers were searching the waters for the yacht. Hopefully Dan Adams was still on board and there’d be answers. If they found the yacht without him, despite having found Ava, the chances of succeeding twice were slim. The Atlantic was a big place and even now the waves were rough with weather reports saying it wasn’t going to get any better. His focus returned to where Ava Adams lay unmoving with nothing but six square feet of air-inflated rubber to protect her from the elements. She wasn’t even wearing a life jacket. That reality horrified him as he thought of all the possibilities and of how lucky she’d been. The Ava he knew was a poor swimmer. If she’d ended up in the water, she would have drowned in waves like this. She’d been lucky he’d arrived when he had.
It was five minutes before he had her harnessed and buckled against him. It had been awkward trying to balance on the dinghy and maneuver her into the harness. Now, he held her tight against his chest, his arm around her, her breasts pressed against his chest. It seemed inappropriate and wrong. And yet all he could do was hold one arm over the harness that held her and the other a safe distance away as he held the winch line. He looked up and signaled Sam to take them up. The roar of the helicopter blades and the crash of the waves below them made communicating impossible. The line twisted, and they turned, facing away from the empty life raft as the line slowly took them up.
She moaned and it was odd hearing her voice for the first time in so long. She opened her eyes. He hadn’t expected that nor her unseeing gaze. It was as unexpected as the first time. This time her eyes held nothing but desperation and panic.
“Find my father.” Her words were so low and breathy. It was like it took all her energy just to breathe.
“We will,” he said. He held her tighter, her body damp and cold, and her curves pressed into him, teasing him in ways that he could not ignore.
His thoughts were blown away with her next words.
“He’ll kill him.”