Under Pressure (10 page)

Twining his fingers with hers, he led her back down into the water. And didn’t let her go. The constant pressure of his hand in hers helped to steady her nerves.

They took their time, descending slowly into the murky depths. And suddenly, she was there, right in front of them—the
Chimera
.

If they’d been above, Kennedy would have lost her breath. The ship was that gorgeous and tragic.

She’d seen plenty of pictures over the past several months. Even some video footage from the remote-controlled cameras they’d sent down to survey. But it wasn’t the same.

And abruptly, Kennedy understood why Jackson had risked so much to find the wreck. She hadn’t before, never quite getting her brother’s obsession with this ship.

People swam around the broken pieces of the ship, cataloguing, painstakingly preserving and recovering. But not even the flurry of activity could displace the eerie quality to the wreckage.

One hundred and fifty years ago she was a hundred feet above, floating on the water just like the
Amphitrite
. But one powerful storm had sent her tumbling straight to the bottom of the sea, ripping a jagged hole into the side of her wooden hull.

Kennedy felt a squeeze on her fingers and looked down to where Asher’s hand cupped hers. Her gaze traveled up to his face, where she saw the same expression of awe and wonder that she knew must be filling hers.

7

A
SHER
FLOATED
,
SOAKING
in his first encounter with the
Chimera
. He wasn’t as into the historical side of things as Jackson and Knox were. He enjoyed diving, loved the men he called brothers and had been more than happy to open Trident and start a business together. If they’d told him they wanted to learn underwater ballet, he probably would have been on board.

Okay, maybe not...

But his desire to be part of this had less to do with actually discovering the wreck than it did with continuing to be part of the family he’d found with Jackson and Knox. He’d been pleased for his friend when Jackson’s years of work had paid off and he’d found the ship. And happy from a business standpoint when Knox’s efforts had secured their exclusive salvage rights.

He wanted the business to succeed, and in order to do that they needed the funds from the salvage. Were desperate to recover the gold everyone prayed was hidden inside the wreck.

But floating there, Kennedy’s small hand gripped firmly in his, he stared at the majesty of the
Chimera
and couldn’t stop the wave of emotion that stampeded through him.

She was gorgeous in a tragic way. For some reason, she reminded him of the empty house he’d come home to after Krista left him. Desolate and vacant, absent of the sounds, smells and sights that should have inhabited her.

Against the backdrop of the gorgeous turquoise Caribbean Sea, red, yellow, purple and orange fish swam in and out of the wreck, their liveliness somehow punctuating the tragedy of what had happened here so long ago.

Asher couldn’t even imagine the panic the crew must have felt in the middle of the storm that had brought her down. Had they reached a point of resignation, knowing they would never see their loved ones again?

Had his father experienced that same moment? Thought of the wife and son he’d left behind?

A lump crowded his throat. Squeezing his eyes tight, Asher forced the thoughts away. This wasn’t the time or place for his own grief.

Kennedy’s fingers squeezed his harder. He didn’t look over at her. Didn’t want her to see the evidence of yet another weakness he couldn’t seem to conquer.

Luckily, at that moment two of the cameramen swam up to them.

Kennedy disentangled their fingers. Asher tried to keep hold of her but couldn’t. He didn’t like the idea of her letting him go, although he refused to examine the feeling too closely.

Before descending, Daniel had given him some instructions for the shots he needed today. The cameras would follow him as he inspected the wreckage and the work their salvage crew was conducting inside.

For the next hour, Asher tried to ignore the cameras, pretending they weren’t present. He watched one of the dive team document the position of an artifact from one of the crew cabins before stowing it so he could take it up. There was no telling what the barnacle-encrusted hunk of metal was. He’d hand it off to the preservation crew, who would stabilize the piece for transportation to their lab where the painstaking process of uncovering years of grime and salt would begin.

Through it all, Asher was aware of Kennedy’s every movement. Most of the time, she stuck close to him, at least close enough that he could find her out of the corner of his vision. After seeing the fear in her eyes earlier, he’d been uneasy about letting her get too far away.

Consulting his dive computer, Asher realized it was about time to ascend and was ready to make a gesture to round up the crew and head that way, when a commotion off to his left caught his attention.

Then Kennedy rocketed through his line of sight.

Turning, Asher took in a cluster of people, Kennedy and two of the cameramen. For the first time he realized one of the cameras was free, sinking toward the sea floor several meters below.

One of the cameramen—Asher thought his name was Neil—had the other, John, limp and lifeless, grasped in his arms.

Oh shit
.

Kennedy looked around, frantic, and when her gaze collided with his, he could see sheer panic suffusing her face.

Using every ounce of strength he had, Asher kicked out straight for them. In a few seconds flat he assessed the situation. John was unconscious, but his mouth was still sealed around the regulator, holding it in place. Still, this wasn’t good. At all.

Forcing himself in between the cluster of people, he pressed his fingers to John’s jugular, relieved to feel a pulse, even if it was faint. The bubbles drifting from the regulator told him the man was at least breathing, even if the puffs were shallow and erratic.

He had no idea what was going on, and he couldn’t really evaluate him down here. They needed to get him out of the water and couldn’t afford to waste any time.

Wrapping an arm across the cameraman’s chest, Asher kicked up, dragging the dead weight with him. There was a fine line between getting the patient to the deck and potential medical help as quickly as possible and rising so quickly that he risked adding complications to whatever had gone wrong. Asher pushed that line as much as he could, ascending faster than he probably should have.

His own body protested, pain lancing through his ears and teeth, his vision graying out. But he pushed on, ignoring the small signs because getting help was more important.

It felt like forever before they finally broke through the surface. Adrenaline and dread pulsed through Asher with each labored breath. Yelling up to the team on the deck, he had them scrambling to get the cameraman back on to the ship.

His battlefield training kicked in. Peeling equipment from the man, he tried to assess the situation. Luckily, Tyson hadn’t been part of the crew diving today and someone must have alerted him to the problem.

Skidding on to the deck beside him, Tyson asked, “What happened?”

“I’m not sure.” Thankfully, John was breathing on his own, but his pulse was thready and weak.

From behind him, Kennedy’s voice sounded. Her hand settled on his shoulder, soothing him in a way he hadn’t realized he’d needed. “He collapsed, going unconscious. Luckily, Neil was paying attention, and Asher got him up here as soon as possible.”

Tyson gave John a quick assessment. “Without proper equipment I can’t say for sure, but he definitely needs medical attention. Fast. It’s possible he’s having a heart attack, or descended too quickly and developed an embolism.”

Shooting to his feet, Asher headed into the wheelhouse. Picking up the mic, he sent out a rescue request over the radio. Within a few seconds, they had a response from an OPBAT team, a joint task force between the US Coast Guard, DEA and the Bahamian Government. They normally concentrated on drug smuggling, but thanks to Knox and Avery’s experience with them several months ago, they were aware of the
Amphitrite’s
location and purpose out here.

Returning to the deck, Asher couldn’t stop the nervous energy flowing through him. There wasn’t really an outlet for it. Tyson was doing his job, stabilizing the guy as much as possible.

John was in his late fifties, but Asher had been assured those diving on the production crew had logged hundreds of scuba hours and could handle the unique requirements of this assignment. That didn’t necessarily rule out the possibility of an embolism, but it made a heart attack more likely.

Ten minutes after he’d placed the distress call, the familiar
thwap, thwap, thwap
of a helicopter could be heard in the distance. He’d ridden plenty of helos in his career, into and out of nightmarish situations.

His body reacted with a familiar response, adrenaline rushing into his bloodstream. The helicopter pilot communicated with the captain, but Asher didn’t need the instructions being sent down. He knew how to handle a helo rescue, especially on water.

Clearing everyone away from the injured man, he watched as the Coast Guard team lowered their basket. Once it was guided down to the deck, Asher, Tyson and Neil secured the unconscious man in the basket.

Asher held the line to keep it steady, as a winch in the helicopter slowly raised it back again.

Ten minutes after they’d arrived, the helicopter was turning and disappearing into the distance.

He should have felt better.

He didn’t.

Energy buzzed through his blood. It bothered him to watch the man disappear into the bright blue sky without knowing how he would fare.

On the other side of the deck, Daniel and Neil, who was still dripping wet from the dive, stood with their heads together.

Kennedy was close by, speaking to several of the crew before finally turning in his direction. Even across the deck, he could feel the impact of her gaze as it landed on him. The heat, the understanding, the expectation and concern.

More than anything right now, he needed Kennedy’s cool, calm demeanor. Her reassurance that everything would be fine and the man he’d just rescued wouldn’t die. He’d seen enough death to last his entire lifetime. Knew, intimately, the impact of receiving that visit from someone in uniform informing you that your loved one was dead.

He’d never forget the keening, inhuman sound his mother had made, collapsing to her knees in the middle of their open doorway.

But it was that pervading need, a weakness that left him so vulnerable, which kept his feet rooted to the spot.

He didn’t want to need Kennedy. Couldn’t let himself go there, not with anyone, but especially not with her.

The familiar tension seized his muscles, tightening his throat and pressing hard against his lungs, when she walked across the deck toward him.

He wanted to snipe at her, make some smart-ass comment that would make her reverse direction and leave him alone. But the words wouldn’t come.

Stopping in front of him, Kennedy asked, “Are you all right?”

“Fine.” He forced the single word past the tightness constricting his throat. He would not give into his stutter. Not today. Not with her.

The corners of Kennedy’s lips pulled into a frown, but she didn’t push. Instead, she said carefully, “I just talked with Neil.”

“Great.”

Kennedy’s eyes narrowed. “The production company is sending someone to gather John’s family and bring them to Nassau. Daniel’s already in contact with the hospital. We should know something about his condition soon.”

“I’m glad.”

Kennedy’s sharp gaze raked across his face. Asher drew in tight, trying to keep a lid on the churning emotions threatening to bubble up inside him.

“Daniel’s suspended production for the rest of the day.”

Thank God for that, at least. It was the right thing to do with a member of his team being medevaced. Not to mention, Asher was in no shape to perform in front of a camera at the moment.

“So, I was thinking we needed to take advantage of the opportunity and get you some more experience in front of the camera. Daniel wants to work on some inside shots tomorrow, since he can film those even though he’s now down one cameraman.”

The thought of being alone in a room with Kennedy right now sent his head spinning. He was already fighting the need to crush her against his body, to lose himself in the relief of her hot mouth.

He should say no. Find some excuse.

But one look at the determination in Kennedy’s expression was all it took to realize that wasn’t an option.

This was going to end very badly.

* * *

L
EADING
A
SHER
INTO
the office the film crew had occupied yesterday, she closed and locked the door behind them. Unlike last night, when the ship had been quiet and most everyone already turned in for the night, today everyone was up and about. The last thing she needed was someone interrupting.

“What are we doing?”

“Crash course in media training.”

“Didn’t we do that last night?”

“Not really.” What they’d done was almost have sex. “You avoided the camera, which was fine for last night, but a little difficult to do come tomorrow when Daniel will expect you to, you know, talk directly into it.”

She watched Asher’s jaw go hard, his teeth grinding together in an unpleasant way that made her own jaw ache.

“Why don’t we start with you propped on the edge of the desk like you were before.”

Turning, Asher headed for the desk, setting his hips against it and wrapping those massive hands around the edge. Today he wasn’t wearing the slacks and button-down shirt, and she kind of missed them. But he was just as sexy in a pair of board shorts and a dark gray T-shirt that clung to his chest.

“All right, you’ve got me where you want me, cupcake. Now what?”

Oh, he was going to pay for that.