Stranded (11 page)

Darcy breached the surface, gulping in air and coughing up water. She flailed, trying to free herself from Gage but knowing she couldn't—not until she had something solid to grasp hold of.

“That wasn't . . . ?” she asked, praying he understood her question without her having to say it outright.

He shook his head.

Not Abby
. He was saying it wasn't Abby down there. With the level of decomposition on the head, it seemed unlikely.

It had been so fast and so disturbing below the surface—caught in the swell, her heart in her throat. It had sent her back to terrorizing snapshots of being pulled under the surge all those years ago, seeing Stacey's panicked eyes right before they were dragged under. Seeing the corpse. It was all too real, all too terrible.

She couldn't stop shaking.

What if Gage was wrong and it
was
Abby?

Jake moved to assist, to pull her from Gage's arms, but Gage refused to let go. “I've got her.”

His arms held her tight, secure, and if it weren't for the
circumstances, she'd have been content to simply nestle deeper into his hold and rest awhile.

“She doesn't look so good,” Jake commented.

“Is she going to be all right?” Whitney called from the shore.

“She's pretty shaken up, but I've got her,” Gage said, keeping a firm grip on her.

Darcy liked the sound of that. Gage's sheltering embrace reminded her of her dad's all those years ago. Passing from near death to his strong arms. . . . She could never describe the absolute trust and surrender she felt toward her dad in that instant—the same, although so much deeper, surrender, trust, and security she experienced when she gave her life to Christ.

And now, in Gage's arms, she gave her safety fully over to his capable hands.

Moving her to shore, he gently laid her on the sand and she missed the security of being wrapped in his arms.

“Any injuries?” Piper asked, kneeling.

“Amazingly, I don't think so,” Gage said, grabbing the blanket Kayden handed him.

His hands trembled as he wrapped it snugly around her. Was he trembling from the frigid water, the tense situation, or the emotion of saving her?

Piper gazed up at him. “You okay, bro?”

He nodded, shifting into leader mode. “If everyone could gather around.”

His sisters had clearly seen to the other passengers, and one of them must have rescued Clint, because he sat among them, his shoulder bandaged.

“Thank you,” Darcy said, looking over at Clint, “for trying to rescue me.”

He winked. “Anytime.”

“I'm sorry you got hurt.”

“This . . .” Clint glanced down at the bandage on his shoulder. “Nothing but a flesh wound.”

“If you're done thanking your
rescuer
,” Gage said a little too grouchily even for him, “I suggest we formulate a new plan.”

She hadn't meant to imply Clint was her rescuer in any sense of the word, only that she appreciated his attempt to help, and that she felt bad he'd gotten hurt in the process.

Gage was her rescuer. Her
hero
.

A tumult of emotions reeled through her, but the hollow eyes she'd seen beneath the water's depths stole any warmth—she'd stared straight into the face of death, and it left her haunted.

“New plan?” Heath asked, breaking through her thoughts.

Gage rubbed the back of his neck. “There's been a complication.”

Heath snorted. “Yeah, Darcy can't handle her kayak.”

She cringed. Here came the questions about her ability, her qualifications.

“It was my fault,” Whitney said.

“What?” Heath said. “How?”

“If I hadn't screamed . . . ” Whitney shook her head. “I totally distracted her.” She looked at Darcy with genuine remorse. It touched Darcy deeply. Gage was right—her lack of experience could have jeopardized all of their safety.

“I thought that stupid stick poking out of the water was a snake,” Whitney continued. “It freaked me out. I hate snakes.”

Heath snorted. “For future reference, Whitney, there are no snakes in Alaska—it's too cold.”

“Oh.” Whitney's cheeks flushed with the telltale hue of embarrassment.

“It wasn't your fault,” Darcy said, choking up. It was her own, for not being able to kayak, let alone swim.

“There's no need to assign blame,” Gage said.

“You'd better figure out whose fault it is,” Clint said, “because Mullins is going to expect not only a full report but some serious answers.”

She swallowed, making eye contact with Gage as she pulled the blanket more tightly around her. If she cost LFA the cruise-line contract . . . she'd feel horrible.

“Accidents happen,” Gage said, determined to cut off further discussion on the matter. “The complication I was referring to has nothing to do with Darcy's accident, but rather with what she found in the cave.”

Heath's eyes lit. Clearly he was hoping Gage would follow up with the word
treasure
or something of the adventurous sort.

“Or—” Gage swallowed—“should I say who.”

“You found a
body
?” Heath asked with a mixture of reality-TV awe and borderline disgust.

Gage nodded. “I'm afraid so.”

Heath's face scrunched. “Gnarly.”

“Okay.” Cal shrugged. “What does that have to do with us and our plans?”

“We can't just leave the body down there,” Gage said, disappointed with the man's attitude.

“You don't actually expect us to retrieve some corpse?” Cal said, aghast.

“We need to head back to the
Bering
as planned,” Clint said. “We can alert the authorities when we reach Eagle Cove.”

“I don't expect you passengers, or any of the
Bering
's crew, to retrieve the body, but we”—Gage gestured to the
LFA crew—“volunteer with Yancey Search and Rescue, and Landon here”—he pointed to his future brother-in-law—“is a deputy sheriff.”

Clint lifted his chin. “What's a deputy sheriff doing working a kayak excursion?”

“He's my fiancé,” Piper said. “I asked him to join me for the trip.”

“Here's what's going to happen,” Gage said, taking charge. “Landon, Jake, and I will remain to assist the local authorities when they arrive.” He looked to his younger sister. “Piper, you and Kayden head back with the passengers. We're past the rough spots, so it should be fairly easy paddling from here out.” He looked to the sky, which seemed a bit lighter. “And the trip across the strait to Eagle Cove should be relatively smooth.”

He had full faith his sisters could handle leading the trip. They were strong women and strong kayakers. His gaze shifted to Clint and his bandaged shoulder. “You okay to paddle?”

Clint nodded. “No problem.”

“Great, then you can help my sisters lead the passengers back. Landon's got a satellite phone, so he'll call ahead to the
Bering
and apprise them of the situation, as well as get in touch with local law enforcement. We'll meet back up with you at the ship. The
Bering
isn't scheduled to disembark until eight o'clock this evening, so we should be back in plenty of time.”

Everyone agreed, though Heath, in typical fashion, grumbled.

“Darcy, you stay here,” Gage said as she moved toward the kayaks with the others.

She frowned, clearly confused but not wanting to question him in front of everyone.

“We can see she makes it back fine,” Clint said.

“I appreciate that, but after the trauma she's endured, I'll feel better, as the excursion leader, seeing to her myself.”

“Not to mention she was first to see the body,” Landon cut in. “Local authorities will want her statement.”

“Statement?” Clint scoffed. “What kind of statement can she possibly give? She went under and saw the corpse. Not much to say there.”

“I'm good staying,” Darcy said. “Really. I appreciate Gage's concern for my safety.”

He tried not to laugh outright at the irony of that statement. The woman couldn't even swim and she'd tackled Class IV rapids. Adhering to safety precautions was the last thing on her mind.

“All right,” Clint said with an edge of disappointment. “If you're sure.”

Why did Clint care so much whether Darcy stayed or went? He'd have her back on the ship and in Clint's sights soon enough. He tried to ignore the jealousy tugging at him. It was petty and ridiculous. What did it matter if Clint took a liking to Darcy, or even if she took a liking to him in return?

He and Darcy would never be an item, but seeing her engaging in even a casual flirtation bugged him. And the fact that it bugged him, bugged him even more.

Within minutes his sisters had everyone organized and in their kayaks, and he stood on the river—Jake, Landon, and Darcy beside him—watching the colorful kayaks as one by one they disappeared around the river's bend.

Darcy sank down on a boulder, shivering. “Mullins is going to fire me.”

Gage sighed. He wanted to assure her that wouldn't be the case, that it would all be all right. But Mullins valued
planning, precision, and strict adherence to the rules. . . . They'd be lucky if she didn't fire Darcy and the entire LFA crew on the spot for exposing the
Bering
's luxury clientele to such a traumatic course of events—unintentional as it'd been.

Jake handed Darcy a fleece he'd fished from his pack. “Here, you've got to be freezing.”

“Thanks.” Gratitude broke on her face.

Gage grimaced. He was an idiot. He'd been too preoccupied to notice the chill in his bones or the quivering of Darcy's blue lips. The slip of a thing had to be freezing.
He
was freezing. The blanket wrapped around her wasn't enough to combat hypothermia. “We need to get you out of those wet clothes.”

“It's a great idea, but my pack is still submerged.”

“Mine's not,” Gage said, reaching for his. “I'm sure we can find something that will work.”

Jake and Landon retrieved their packs as well. Once they'd pieced together an outfit for Darcy—Landon's sweats, an extra pair of Jake's boots along with Gage's Henley shirt and pair of socks—Gage set about to fish out a dry change of clothes for himself.

“Let's get a fire started and find something warm for Darcy to drink.” They had to get her internal body temperature back up fast.

“You can use that copse of evergreen trees for privacy,” Jake said, pointing to the small grouping. It wasn't large, only a handful of trees and shrubbery, but it would do.

“Thanks.”

Gingerly, she got to her feet but could only wobble where she stood. Her body ached as if she'd been wrung through, but it was her soul that had taken the hardest blow.

Seeing a dead body—or what remained of it—up close had truly shaken her, bringing back images of Stacey being torn from her life, ripped away into the dark beyond.

Gage peeled off his windbreaker and pulled his sopping shirt over his head, exposing his chest.

Darcy's breath caught, her gaze drawn to the two precious baby feet tattooed above his heart.

Tucker
. Her heart squeezed, tears stinging her eyes.

“You okay, Darcy?” Landon asked.

Gage's gaze flashed to hers before she could look away. He glanced down at the tattoo—resigned anguish on his handsome face—then back at her. A brief moment of unguarded emotion passed between them, and then it was gone.

She yearned to say something, to do something—to run
and wrap her arms around him and not let go. But he'd want to be left alone. He always did. No doubt he'd make a joke or offer a playful smile within seconds.

He yanked on a dry shirt and cocked his head in a teasing manner. “You may want to scoot before I swap my pants.” He winked, but it did nothing to diffuse the tightness in her belly or the growing depth of her feelings for him. She was coming to love the man, busted heart and all.

“Darc, I'm hardly shy,” he said, reaching for his zipper.

“Right.” She turned heel and darted into the shelter of the trees, her mind filled with the image of his bare chest. Forget the defined muscles. It was the tattoo—Tucker's tattoo—that had melted her heart.

Despite the wet earth and the chill permeating her very being, she dropped to her knees and prayed for the man she'd come to care for so deeply.

Father, my heart feels like it is physically cracking, shattering for Gage and the pain he still suffers. Let him know you. Let him know the healing and peace that only you can bring. Please do a great work in him, and use me in any way possible, according to your will.

She remained on her knees in silence, allowing the Holy Spirit to speak for her, to utter the cries of her heart that even she didn't understand, asking, begging, for God's intercession on behalf of the man she was coming to love.
Love.
She'd felt a deep ache for him ever since she'd first seen past his playful bravado to the hurting heart underneath, but in the months since she'd last seen him, it was amazing how deep her feelings for him had rooted.

“Darcy, you okay?” Jake's voice echoed through the small copse of trees.

“Yeah.” She cleared the emotion from her throat. “Fine. Why?”

“You're just taking a while. We wanted to make sure you were okay.”

“Yep. Be out soon.”

“We're in the wilderness, no need to impress,” Gage called.

What is that supposed to mean?
Any way she looked at it, the comment wasn't flattering.

She slunk off the blanket and slipped out of her frigid clothes. After pulling on Landon's sweats, she lifted Gage's Henley to her face, and despite how dreadfully cliché it was, she inhaled. The cobalt-blue shirt smelled like him—like sea air and sandalwood.

You. Are. Being. Ridiculous.

She slipped the shirt over her head, reveling in the warmth it provided, and pulled on the thick wool socks, hoping Gage was in the habit of rolling his clean socks the way she did her dirty ones. Unwilling to take the whiff test to be certain, she decided to simply appreciate the luxury of dry feet. She slipped on the oversized hiking boots Jake, having the smallest shoe size of the three men, had provided—though a men's ten compared to her ladies' six left a significant size gap.

Movement darted out of the corner of her eye and she stilled.

Nothing
.

She studied the trees enveloping her, the odd feeling of being watched sinking in.

Bending, she quickly tied her laces and headed back to the others.

She emerged from the woods to a hoot of laughter.

“What?”

Gage nearly doubled over in laughter. “I'm sorry.” He tried to smother his amusement. “You look like a little kid swimming in those.”

She looked down, her trepidation replaced by amusement. She'd rolled Landon's gray sweats three times at her waist to keep from tripping over them, and the sleeves of Gage's cobalt Henley hung several inches beyond her fingertips. She worked to smother a chuckle of her own. “Like you said, no need to impress.”

“I hadn't meant . . . it's just some women worry too much about their physical appearance, even when they're out in the wilderness like this.”

She narrowed her eyes, planting her hands on her hips—though it was hard to get to them through the vast layers of fabric. “And you think I'm one of those women?”

Jake cleared his throat. “I'm going to . . . uh . . . see to that fire.” He backed quickly away.

Landon was at the far end of the beach, still on the phone—no doubt with local authorities—leaving just her and a man very much on the spot.

She took a step closer to Gage. “So . . . do you?”

Gage reached for the wet clothes she carried. “Not necessarily.”

She plopped them in his hand. “Care to elaborate?” It was a risk to push. She might not like what he had to say, but she wasn't the play-it-safe type. If Gage thought her vain—on top of everything else—she wanted to know.

He dumped her clothes in a plastic sack and cinched it up. “You're usually all put together.”

“And that makes me vain?”

“Of course not. I'd hardly call you vain.”

“Then why the comment?”

“I only meant you don't need to worry about what you look like even under the harshest of circumstances.”

Her brows pinched together. “And why is that?”

He took a step toward her. “Because you're gorgeous.”

Oh
. She hadn't expected that, nor the butterflies suddenly somersaulting in her belly. She lifted her arms. “Yeah, I'm sure I look really gorgeous swimming in these clothes.”

He stepped closer still, heat emanating from his body like steam from a grate. Warmth surged through her. He lifted a damp strand of hair clinging to her forehead and tenderly slipped it behind her ear. “Breathtakingly so.”

The sensation of his skin against hers, his fingers along the curve of her neck just behind her ear was dizzying. “I . . .” His heather-gray eyes brimming with emotion sliced deeply through her.

He'd never spoken to her like that, never
looked
at her the way he was at that moment, and it nearly stole her breath away.

He dipped his head, leaning in—the movement very much like that of a man about to kiss her. Instinctually she leaned into him, her eyelids fluttering shut. His breath hovered over her lips. She parted hers and—

Someone cleared his throat.

Her eyes shot open, and she felt jolted from a dream. Had she and Gage . . . ? Had they been about to . . .
kiss
?

Gage remained a breath from her, the heat from his body making her forget the cold she'd endured all morning.

It was Landon, back at the campfire after talking on the satellite phone. “I got ahold of Chief Wyatt Mueller in Eagle Cove. He'll be out within the hour and he'll bring a couple of their SAR volunteers to assist, along with the necessary gear.”

“Great,” Gage said, not taking his eyes off Darcy.

“I've got the fire going,” Jake said, rejoining them. “The warmer we can get you two the better.”

No need there. Her entire body was on fire.