Windswept Read Online Free PDF Page A

was out.
    She clamped two hands over his regulator and sucked like she was never letting go, but gradually, her eyes zoomed in on his and her breathing slowed.
    He cursed himself for bringing his old gear to Bonaire — the outdated set with a single regulator and no second breather unit — but it was all he had, and it wasn’t like he could bring along one of the NYPD sets for this trip.
    Feeling his way along his hip, he pulled his air gauge into view.
    Shit.
    Even if he had two regulators, the air supply would be awfully tight. Too tight, and Mia was gulping it like a fish.
    He made little up and down motions.
Slow down. Slow down
. Then he flicked his fingers toward his face. If he didn’t get any air soon, she’d be the one dragging his body to shore.
    She took a last drag of air and pushed the regulator at him, and though he’d told himself he wouldn’t be greedy, it was so sweet, so clear, he couldn’t help it. A breath, two breaths, and he passed it back to Mia.
    She stuck her thumb up and he nodded. Just like it had always been with them: perfect communication from the first minute they’d met in that pool in New York. Well, perfect communication on some issues. On others… Well, not so good, as it turned out.
    Focus, Hayes. Focus.
    He fluttered his fins twice and let his body rise, trying to conserve energy. Every kick meant more oxygen used, and they couldn’t afford that. He kept a firm grip on the shoulder straps of Mia’s vest, too, keeping eye contact. That was the easy part, because her sky blue eyes were like the ocean. He could look and look and never get tired of searching those depths.
    If they did survive this — no,
when
they survived this, he decided, because he had to believe — he’d find that maniac diver and rip him limb from limb just so he could piece the guy together and do it all over again.
    Breathe in, breathe out. Breathe in, hand over. They had a pattern going now, and Mia’s breaths were more controlled. Jesus, the woman was tough. Navy-SEAL tough, and he ought to know. She shot him a little smile when she handed back the regulator, and even if it was forced, it gave him hope. Mia, smiling for him. Maybe if they made it out of this alive, she’d hear him out.
    But he’d cross that bridge when he came to it. Right now was about getting her out of this alive.
    Everything ticked over in slow motion, even though it was life or death. It was always like that, in the thousands of training exercises and the couple of real-life close calls that he’d always, always aced. Except there never seemed to be as much on the line as right now.
    The water muffled all sound and movement. There was nothing but the trail of bubbles, shooting to the surface the way he wished he could. His universe became Mia’s face and the air and depth gauges that showed numbers he really didn’t want to see but had to face up to if they were going to get out of this alive.
    One hundred feet, and running out of air fast.
    Eighty. He held her eyes, willing her to ascend slowly.
    Sixty. The sunlight grew brighter, teasing and tempting them both.
    He tightened his grip on Mia’s vest, making sure she ascended slowly past the fifty- and thirty-foot marks.
    When they came up on twenty feet, he tugged on her vest. Now came the tricky part: stopping to decompress when the surface seemed so unbearably close. He raised a hand in a stop sign and pointed to his watch.
    Her eyes flicked there then back to his face, and her brow tightened.
    Yeah, he knew just what she was thinking. They didn’t have enough air for a proper ascent with carefully timed decompression stops. Four minutes at twenty feet was what his dive computer was showing as the minimum.
    Mia pulled his air gauge over and held up two fingers.
    He shook his head and held up four. Two wouldn’t do it.
    Stubborn as ever, she held up three.
    He shook his head again. Four. He’d never ordered her to do anything, but damn it, this wasn’t negotiable.
    She