They’d searched for an hour and still nothing. Boone could not face the failure of losing Sam, not with Annie right here.
“Keep searching,” Trace said. “He’s got the skills to survive. Don’t leave that water without him.”
Though Trace didn’t say it, Boone knew he meant dead or alive.
“He’s a squid,” Leo said. “He knows how to beat this.”
Nuala lifted the thermals and scanned the choppy sea. “What do you think?” she asked quietly. “Is he out there? Alive?”
Boone stood at the rail, gripping it tightly as he stood with Nuala. “Out there, yes. Alive”—he cocked his head—“if he got shot. . .”
At the bow, Annie stood with a jacket wrapped around her shoulders, watching. Silent. Devastated.
“She’ll crack,” Nuala whispered. “She’s held it together, but Sam. . .”
“She was pretty cold toward him when we rescued her in the forest. I didn’t think she wanted him around,” Boone said, his gaze never leaving the water.
“He thought so, too. Y’all haven’t figured out women yet? You have a lot to learn about women,” Nuala teased. “Annie loves Sam. She might not know it yet, but when we first came to the bunker, she talked about nothing but getting back to him. She pushed him away because she was afraid of losing him.”
“So, in other words, if I don’t want her to hate me for the rest of my life, I better find this Squid—alive.”
“Alive would be preferable.” Nuala gave him a smile without looking.
“He’s a SEAL,” Boone said with a fake sneer.
“He’s handsome. He pursued her. He never gave up on her. A girl likes that.”
“All girls?”
Nuala drew back from the nocs and met Boone’s gaze. She stood a head shorter than him, but she had the chutzpah to be a sniper and face down many a deadly foe. “Yeah,” she said, her words even softer than normal.
Boone stilled. Something just happened there, with Nuala. He wasn’t sure what. Somehow, he had this feeling something he’d said held an entirely different meaning to her. That look meant something. He recalled the hints Téya and Annie had dropped about Nuala having a thing for him.
He winced. Never meant to lead her on. He’d asked the question with Keeley in mind.
She returned to the watch. “Keeley will get better, then you can be the gallant hero you always are, and you’ll know then that I’m right.”
The gallant hero you always are. . .
Is that how Noodle really saw him? Not as some messed-up country hick?
“Boone.” Her breathy declaration of his name came only seconds before she touched his arm. “Boone, I see something.” She handed the nocs to him. “Four o’clock.”
“Send the signal.” He took the thermal binoculars and searched the area she’d pointed out as Nuala used the SureFire to flick the rescue code. “I’m not seeing any—” A dark huddle bobbed on the water. “I’m not seeing a response.”
“What if he’s”—dead?—“unconscious?”
“Leo,” Boone shouted. “We have something.”
The ultrafast patrol boat swung in the direction, churning a foamy wake as they raced toward the dark huddle.
They were within twenty yards when Nuala called out. “It’s him! He’s not conscious.”
Boone grabbed a hook and hurried to the side of the boat. With him were Leo’s two men, who leaned over and helped drag Sam’s body onto the boat. “Easy, easy.” Hauling him up over the side was about like trying to hoist an anchor with his bare hands.
Sam was limp. Dead weight. His head hung and his arms dangled like seaweed. Water dribbled down his face and hair.
They fumbled him up and over and laid him in the back. Even as he sliced away the Squid’s dive vest and equipment, Boone felt the patrol boat roaring toward safety. Away from the Aegean Mercy. Away from the sea that may have taken Sam Caliguari’s life.