DIVING INTO DANGER

Nothing can stop Sylvie Masters from scuba diving to find her mother’s downed plane—except possibly the hit man determined to keep the truth from surfacing. When brave bush pilot Will Pierson comes to her rescue, she knows she can still reach her goal, but she needs his help. Will wants answers about the crash, too, especially since his mother was the missing plane’s pilot. He’ll be the hero Sylvie needs, but can he ever trust her? Sylvie is shrouded in secrets that keep leading her back to Mountain Cove. Secrets someone will kill for. Will may protect her, yet no one can persuade her to end her search...not even a killer.

Mountain Cove: In the Alaskan wilderness, love and danger collide.

What was that noise?

It penetrated her sleep and she sat up. Will stood at the open door, silhouetted in the morning light.

Whomp-whomp-whomp.

Realization dawned. A helicopter. Someone to rescue them.

Newfound energy surged through Sylvie, and she ran to Will on her injured ankle. “Why aren’t you out there signaling them?” She pushed by, prepared to limp outside. “If you won’t, then I will.”

“Sylvie, no.” He gripped her shoulders, his eyes imploring her to listen. “The help I radioed for won’t be here for hours.” He nodded toward the helicopter. “That’s not our help.”

She froze. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying that could be the men after you.”

She backed away from him. “No, that can’t be. How—”

A spray of bullets ricocheted through the woods. Will slammed the door and pressed his back against it. Determination was carved into his features. “We have to get out of here.”

A chunk of fear lodged in her throat. When would this end? She knew the answer…and that was what scared her.

ELIZABETH GODDARD is an award-winning author of over twenty novels, including the romantic mystery The Camera Never Lies—winner of a prestigious Carol Award in 2011. After acquiring her computer science degree, she worked at a software firm before eventually retiring to raise her four children and become a professional writer. In addition to writing, she homeschools her children and serves with her husband in ministry.

Tailspin

Elizabeth Goddard

www.millsandboon.co.uk

But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.

—Isaiah 40:31

To my Lord and Savior, Jesus Christ,

who truly does renew my strength.

Acknowledgments

When it comes time to write acknowledgments, there are so many people I want to thank. Too many to name in a short paragraph, but all my heartfelt gratitude goes to my family—my parents and grandparents who encouraged me, always telling me that I could be whatever I wanted to be. They taught me the sky was the limit. To dream as big as I wanted to dream and accomplish even more. The journey to this place of living my dream of writing novels has taken years, and it’s a journey I would never have made without God, who continued to nudge and direct me to answer His call. Along the way I’ve made many deep and lasting friendships—my partners in writing and in life. You know who you are. Thank you. I want to thank my wonderful editor Elizabeth Mazer, for your encouragement and suggestions that make my books the best they can be. I could never forget my amazing agent, Steve Laube.

Thank you for believing in me.

Contents

Cover

Back Cover Text

Introduction

About the Author

Title Page

Bible Verse

Dedication

Acknowledgments

ONE

TWO

THREE

FOUR

FIVE

SIX

SEVEN

EIGHT

NINE

TEN

ELEVEN

TWELVE

THIRTEEN

FOURTEEN

FIFTEEN

SIXTEEN

SEVENTEEN

EIGHTEEN

NINETEEN

Dear Reader

Extract

Copyright

ONE

The scuba-diving dry suit, along with the warm layers beneath, protected Sylvie Masters from the biting cold waters of the channel that carved its way through the Alaska Panhandle.

Breathe too fast, you could die. Hold your breath, you could die. Stay too long, you could die. Ascend too fast, tiny little bubbles of nitrogen on a death mission enter your bloodstream.

Her mother’s words, an effort to dissuade her from her love of scuba diving, gripped her mind as she searched for the missing plane in the depths. Her mother had worried about Sylvie’s diving, but in turn, Sylvie had reminded her that famous undersea explorer Jacques Cousteau had lived to be eighty-seven, his death unrelated to his underwater endeavors, and his sons were still alive except the one who died in a plane crash—a seaplane, no less!

Sylvie never imagined her words would be so prophetic. Never imagined that horrible phone call two months earlier, telling her that a seaplane with her mother on board had disappeared without a trace, and that her mother was missing and presumed dead.

A sea lion glided past, much too close for comfort, and Sylvie exhaled sharply, her pulse accelerating. The enormity of the creature this close left her in awe. The large mammal, intent on a search of his own, swam away, putting a comfortable distance between them.

Slowing her breathing, she flutter-kicked and moved on. The glint of painted metal, something completely unnatural to the environment, caught her attention. A wing thrusting from the sandy bottom? The final resting place for a plane and passengers?

Her heart jumped, taking her breathing with it. Not good. At two atmospheres, or forty feet, this was a simple recreational dive. But she still needed to maintain slow, steady breaths. Two cardinal rules: never overbreathe and never hold your breath.

Inhale...

Exhale...

Her body was like a carbonated drink. The deeper the dive, the harder the shake. She only had to remember to open the bottle slowly, ascend at the proper rate with the right stops and then, upon surfacing, her body wouldn’t explode with nitrogen bubbles like a shaken can of soda opened too quickly. She wouldn’t get decompression sickness.

The bends.

As an instructor for a diving school in Seattle, and a volunteer member of a local dive rescue organization, Sylvie had ample experience and was trained to solo dive. Good thing, too. Chelsey, a friend at the school, had planned to come with her, but Chelsey’s sister was seriously injured in a car wreck the day before they were to leave, and she needed to be at her sister’s side. Sylvie didn’t blame her for that, but neither would she wait until Chelsey could join her for yet another search for her mother’s missing plane.

She’d already taken the vacation time. It was late September, and the water would soon get colder with winter. It was now or never. Besides, she wasn’t sure she wanted to drag anyone else with her on what could be a morbid discovery.

Six weeks ago the powers-that-be had given up on ever finding the plane, but Sylvie would never stop.

She pushed her thoughts back to the present and her task. More fish darted past, drawing her gaze from the metal for only a moment. She loved the water and all its inhabitants. Her mother had always told her she should have been born a dolphin or a whale, some sort of sea mammal. Just give Sylvie the ocean any day as long as she didn’t have to fly.

Because the cold water was clearer, she could see much farther than on a warm-water dive. She spotted the remnants of an old shipwreck, which had created an artificial reef for cold-water sea creatures. Brightly colored starfish and anemones in every shade of pink and green mesmerized her, reminding her of everything she loved about diving.

Except she wasn’t here to enjoy the scenery this time.

She was on a mission and had been for the past several days. And she’d found nothing, seen nothing, until now. In the distance, she could still see the glint of metal, and needed to keep her focus on that or she might lose it.

Excitement and dread swirled together and gurgled up in her stomach, much like the bubbles escaping from her regulator and swirling around her head on their way to the water’s surface. She kicked her fins furiously, hoping to find what she was looking for. When a shadow moved over her from above, she noted another boat on the water coming or going, crossing over her despite her diver down flag, but she kept going.

Something grabbed her fin and tugged.

Sylvie turned around and faced another diver, who wielded a glinting diver’s knife and lunged. Her mind seized up. Survival instincts kicked in. He could fatally wound her, or go for her hose, hold her down and drown her. Kill her a million different ways. She turned and tried to swim away.

But he caught her fin again.

Sylvie faced her attacker. Murderous dark eyes stared back at her from behind a diver’s mask. She couldn’t swim her way out of this. She’d have to fight her way free. She struggled but he was physically stronger.

She’d have to be smarter. She could hold her breath longer than most, though holding her breath could kill her, too.

Help me, Lord!

His knife glinted in the water. Sylvie kicked and thrashed to get away, bumping up against sharp coral that ripped a hole in her dry suit and a gash in her back. Frigid water rushed through the hole in the suit. She ignored the shock of cold biting her skin and the salty sting of her wound.

The crazed diver whipped the knife around and sliced through her regulator hose.

Sylvie flailed and swam for the surface, but he dragged her back.

This couldn’t be happening.

Who was this man? What did he want? The next few moments could be her last. Sylvie fought, but fisted against water, flailed and then...relaxed.

Dead.

The man released his hold on her.

Now.

Sylvie yanked the hose from his tanks. While he struggled with his own breathing apparatus, she ditched her weight belt and thrust her way to the surface. She released air from her lungs with a scream and tried to ascend at a controlled pace, which would also expand the air in her lungs as she released it instead of having them pop like balloons. If this worked, she wouldn’t be unconscious by the time she reached the surface.

He wouldn’t be fooled twice.

When Sylvie breached the water, she dragged in a long breath. A boat rested a few hundred yards from her, but it wasn’t her boat. Treading water, she searched the area. Her boat was gone. Panic rose like a fury in her throat, and she stifled the frustrated scream that would surely alert whoever was left on the boat, waiting for the diver who’d come to kill her.

She had to hurry. He’d be up and after her soon enough. She’d only delayed him long enough to make a temporary escape.

But where should she hide? In this part of Alaska, she was surrounded by islands and trees, and trees and islands, and oh yeah, rain. A slow drizzle started up—of course—pock-marking the water around her. With no other choice, she headed to the scrap of land that barely passed for an island.

Could she make it there before the boat ran her down or the diver caught up to her?

* * *

Will Pierson couldn’t imagine living any other way. He was an eagle soaring over the awe-inspiring landscape of southeast Alaska. Okay, so he wasn’t an eagle. He was a simple bush pilot sitting in a tin can, bouncing and twisting and riding the rough air to deliver packages or people to the Alaskan bush.

And today, while he did his job, he searched for his mother’s plane like he’d done every day since she’d crashed.

He flew low, swooping over a forgotten part of God’s green earth, waters of the channel shimmering in the cold morning sun, what there was of it. His Champ 7GC glided over green and misty islands and jaw-dropping fjords. He often looked down to see the wildlife, maybe a few off-grid pioneer-types, sometimes bear or elk.

As he soared over the wide-open spaces, he admitted the joy he found in the view was overshadowed by loss and grief.

His mother, the packages and one additional passenger had disappeared, and no one knew exactly where or even why. It wasn’t as if their bush pilot planes were big enough to warrant cockpit voice recorders or flight data recorders or the “black boxes” carried by commercial planes. And out here in the Alaska bush, they flew without radar coverage for the most part. Investigators had suggested that she’d been flying below clouds in poor visibility and slammed into the ground or the side of a mountain. He refused to believe it. As a bush pilot flying southeast Alaska for the past two decades, she knew the area too well.

Since that day two months ago, Will had flown a thousand times over the area where her plane should have gone down. He tried to trust God to give him the peace he longed for, but his need to know what had happened drove him crazy. Surely he owed her that much—a decent burial and a clear understanding of what had caused her death.

She’d taught him to survive. Alaska was about survival of the fittest. She’d taught him to spread his wings and fly above the storms of life like an eagle. In this way, they had survived his father’s brutal scuba-diving death and built a solid life for the two of them that had lasted until the day she’d gone to pick up a surprise package she’d said was going to shake things up. Well, things had been shaken all right, and his mother was dead and gone.

She was a skilled pilot. Something must have gone wrong with the plane. Equipment failure? Or worse. Had one of the packages been a bomb?

The thought made Will edgy with every trip he took. Every package he picked up or delivered. He didn’t want any surprise packages. He just wanted answers.

His Champ hit a rough spot, a pothole in the air as he liked to call it.

And that was when he saw someone running.

She was not out for a jog wearing a diving suit. That much he could tell. She looked as if she was running for her life. Will flew in close, sweeping the area, and searched. Was she running from a bear? The woods were thick around the meadow where she ran. Where was she heading? She was too focused on her escape to glance at his plane swooping low. He didn’t have to get any closer to see she had terror written all over her face.

And then Will saw him.

A man with a rifle. Will took a dive, letting the guy know he should back off. Between the trees, the man appeared to gaze through his scope at Will. He backed away, lifted higher and out of range. But not fast enough. He heard the ping of a bullet against the fuselage.

Will tried to radio for help, but to no avail, which was just as he’d expect out in this part of southeast Alaska. No one on the other end of his radio call answered to help this woman, so that meant he would have to do. Even if he had reached someone for help, what were the chances they would arrive in time? Zero.

He was on his own.

But how could he help her? He swung around the small island to come back and find the best place to land on the water, hoping she would see him. Hoping the rifleman wouldn’t.

Right. That was going to work.

Will sucked in a breath and veered wide and plunged low, coming around to find the woman. He’d seen a boat anchored nearby. Was that hers? Or the rifleman’s? Somehow he had to intervene and get her out before the man got to her. Flying low over the thick trees, he couldn’t see either one of them.

But he needed to keep his distance, too. Bad enough the man was shooting at someone—and Will wouldn’t stand idly by and let that happen without a fight—but if his plane was badly damaged then both Will and the woman would have nowhere to turn, no way to escape.

How could he let her know he was friendly and not with the hunter? And how could he find her at all? She’d dropped completely out of sight. Had she found a place to hide in the woods? Or...was she headed for the water? She wore a diving suit, after all.

He prayed this would all end well as he made for the water somewhere near the direction she’d been headed. Then he could offer her a ride home.

Will maneuvered his floatplane onto the water. This was cutting things close.

The pontoons touching down, he proceeded forward, watching the rough edges and sandy beaches where the land met water and the rocky outcroppings, searching for the woman and the rifleman. Both of them could be heading away from him for all he knew. Or they could be moving straight for him through the island rainforest of the Tongass National Forest. As he steered closer, Will found his weapon and placed it on the passenger seat.

Closing in on the island, he slowed the plane. A slow burn worked its way up his gut as he took the plane right up to a small section of sand, remaining wary of the thick forest hidden with danger. Which one of them would he see first?

The woman, running for her life?

Or the man with his rifle, aiming to kill?

TWO

Fear drove her past the pain of her injuries, through the shock of it all. Sylvie pushed her body because her life depended on it. Grateful for the diving boots she’d worn under her fins to protect her feet, she ran from another madman, this one holding a high-powered rifle instead of a diver’s knife.

If she could just make it to the water.

Again.

Hard to believe she’d escaped the crazy diver beneath the surface only to face off with another dangerous man. This wasn’t some random meeting, but an elaborate plan to assure her death.

She could almost laugh at their efforts—how hard had they believed she would be to kill?

Her legs screamed, and she stopped to lean against a Sitka spruce, catching her breath. The dry suit hadn’t been designed for running.

At first she’d thought the plane was just another part of the plan. A diver. A man with a rifle. Why not a floatplane to attack her in some other, horrible way? But then the man who’d been there to give her an unfriendly welcome as she dragged her body from the water onto the rocky shore had taken a few shots at it.

Providence had sent someone to save her in the most inappropriate manner. God had a sense of humor. Why couldn’t it be another boat? Why not the Coast Guard? She would never fly unless she had no choice.

But then Sylvie had never needed saving before.

And now that floatplane that had flown low and deep to find her running, and had made waves for her would-be killers, meant everything to her. She assumed the plane waited just beyond the trees. She’d seen that much—but unfortunately that meant the rifleman had seen it, as well.

Breathing hard and fast, Sylvie pushed through the wildness of this uninhabited land, brushing past thick and lush sword ferns and alongside a thorny undergrowth that shredded her dry suit. Through the trees she could make out the water.

She continued on to the water’s edge and searched for the plane. Down from her a few hundred yards, the plane waited. The whir of the props echoed across the water. Her stomach lurched. Would he leave before she could get there? How could she signal him to wait? Draw his attention without giving away her position?

God, please let him wait for me! Help me!

It was too far for her to quickly traverse the thick brush and rocky shore, but there was another way. Sylvie rushed into the water and dove beneath the surface, quickly reminded of the brush against the coral during her struggle with the mad diver. Her dry suit no longer protected her from the cold water that seeped in, icing across her skin and into her bones, it seemed, slowly stealing her body heat away.

Hypothermia would set in soon. Never mind her aching joints that brought to her attention another problem. Sylvie was too experienced to ignore the symptoms or write them off as the shock of nearly being brutally murdered.

No. She had to face the truth.

She had the bends. Decompression sickness.

But she had to keep it together until she made it to the plane. Holding her breath, she swam just under the water’s surface to keep out of sight. Without her mask, her eyes burned in the salty water as she remained vigilant in watching for the boat and the man with the rifle. She prayed the other diver wasn’t right behind her.

The flash of an image rushed at her—the diver’s knife, glinting in the water as he cut her hose. Shivering, she tossed a quick look into the depths behind and beneath her. She had to be sure the diver wasn’t closing in. At least she was safe for the moment. Head bobbing to the surface for a quick breath, she continued to swim, her limbs growing sluggish.

She drew near to the plane.

Almost there.

The pilot scrambled from the plane and onto the beach, brandishing a weapon. Her pulse quickened. Could that be for her? God, please let him be friendly. Please let him be someone here to help me. She didn’t know what she would do otherwise.

Dizziness swept over her, swirling through her core with the shock of the last few minutes.

But Sylvie was strong. She couldn’t have excelled in her career as a diving instructor if she wasn’t.

Then she heard it.

The echoing fire from a rifle. Sylvie ducked under the water. Had the rifleman seen her? Was he firing at her now in the water? Or at the pilot?

She was cold and numb and drained. Wasn’t sure she could breach the surface again. She heard the rumble of the floatplane before she found the energy to bob above the water’s surface and see it moving.

Disappointment weighed her down into the depths.

The rifleman was shooting at her rescuer. If he’d come to help, he’d been scared away. Sylvie fought the desire to give up, to sink and keep on sinking. Anger burned in her chest along with the need for air.

No, God! Her life couldn’t end like this.

Like her mother, Sylvie was a fighter, and she’d find a way to survive this. There were a million reasons to live, not the least of which was that she had to discover what had happened to her mother’s plane.

She had to be strong.

She’d always believed it was her faith in God that would see her through. But with nitrogen bubbles coursing through her blood, hypothermia threatening to sink and drown her, and men who were trying to kill her, Sylvie struggled to trust God to see her through. How much could she trust Him? How much did she do on her own?

Right now she had never felt more alone. Had never had to draw on her own strength, or even on her faith in God, in this way before.

Like her dry suit, her faith and strength failed her.

* * *

Will couldn’t leave without the woman. Neither could he stay with a man taking shots at him and his plane. He’d landed here because she’d been running in this direction. Now where was she?

In his Champ, he skipped across the water’s surface, searching and praying. If he saw nothing, he would circle the island and come back to this spot, but he needed to draw the rifleman away from her. She could be hiding in the woods and afraid to run for the plane.

There!

The woman breached the water and waved, not twenty-five yards from him. If he hadn’t been looking in the right direction at that exact moment, he might have missed her. Now to get her out of here without getting either of them killed. He slowed the plane, guided it close...closer...until he was as close as he could get without risking harm to her.

“You’ll have to swim the rest of the way,” he called. “Can you do that?”

The way she dipped below the water, that desperate look on her face, he wasn’t sure she had any reserves left enough to swim all the way. But she was already swimming toward him even as the words left his mouth.

He stood on the pontoon and leaned out, encouraging her and at the same time glancing intermittently to the shore, watching for the shooter. They had to hurry.

“Come on, you can make it.”

Determination flooded her features as she inched forward. Will reached for her at the same moment she grabbed on to the pontoon. She rested her head against it, catching her breath. Intelligent hazel eyes stared up, measuring him, her bluish lips quivering.

He thrust his hand out. “We need to get out of here.”

She grabbed his hand and held his gaze. “Thank you.”

Rifle fire exploded in the distance. They both instinctively ducked, but other than the plane itself, there was no cover.

“Hurry.” He assisted her up and into the plane, not missing that she was bleeding from a gash in her suit. She needed help in more ways than one.

When she was secured in the seat, he found a blanket and threw it over her, then quickly secured himself and headed away from land. Another chink let him know his plane had taken another hit.

A wonder the rifleman hadn’t succeeded in killing them already. But depending on the damage to the plane, the outcome remained to be seen. If he felt any trouble he could land them quickly enough, but he had to get them away from this place. He lifted off the water and glanced at her, noticing she visibly paled.

“You’re not going to get sick on me, are you?”

Shivering, she shook her head. “I don’t know. Maybe.”

Well, which was it? But he wouldn’t give her a hard time.

“I need to get my diving gear.”

“You’ve got to be kidding me.”

She stared at him, the gold flecks in her hazel eyes blazing. “Please. I appreciate your help, the risk to your life, everything you’ve done, but I might need to treat myself for decompression sickness.”

“You’re with me now. I’ll get you to Juneau where they can treat you.” Treating oneself was never a good idea.

“Can we just do a flyby to see if it’s safe or not?”

It didn’t sound as if she believed he would get her to Juneau. Will held back anything derogatory he might have said. “All right. Where is it?”

“I stashed it on the north side of the island where I’d been diving. There was a boat there last I saw, so that might mean trouble for us.”

“I don’t suppose now would be a good time for you to tell me what’s going on.”

“I would if I could. I don’t know exactly. I was scuba diving when another diver appeared and tried to kill me. I escaped and swam to the surface, but my boat was missing. I swam to the island and barely made it out of the water and stowed my gear when I saw the man with the rifle. I’d been running from him, well, until you came along.”

“And you believed you could trust me?” Now that almost had him grinning.

“When he shot at you, I knew you were here to help.”

Will banked to the right, flying around the island to the north, hoping the boat she’d mentioned would be long gone. He looked her over. She’d tugged the hood of her dry suit off and worked the blanket over her medium-length hair to dry it. He wouldn’t say she was pretty, in so many words, but she definitely had a presence about her that he might find compelling if he was looking to be compelled.

“There’s the boat. We might have a chance.” Will kept his disappointment in check. “But we need to make this quick. Where’s your gear?”

She pointed. “Over there along the shoreline in the trees. See that big, funny-looking boulder?”

“And you’re sure this is a good idea?”

“No.”

Just what he wanted to hear. “I like an honest woman.”

Will brought the plane down on the water and eased up against a sandbar. He pulled out his weapon. “You stay put. Tell me where exactly, and I’ll find it.”

Her eyes grew wide. “No, you don’t have to risk your life for me.”

A little late for that, but he didn’t say as much. Without another word he hopped from his plane. “Where?”

She pointed. “Just there, by that larger boulder.”

The rifleman was well on the other side of the island, but Will didn’t know who else he might have to contend with. Wary of his surroundings, weapon at the ready, he crept forward until he spotted her diving gear—double tanks. He hated the sight of them. Diving had killed his father. He grabbed the tanks but couldn’t get a grip on the fins as well as hold his weapon in case he needed to use it.

She appeared next to him and snatched up the rest. Regulator, mask, snorkel, fins and buoyancy vest. “It’s all important.”

Carrying her dive equipment, they hurried back to the plane. Will noticed the boat heading their way. “We’re out of time.”

He lugged the tanks into the back as she tossed in the rest of her gear. Then he started the plane, speeding away on the water as he waited for her to secure herself in the seat.

Once they were airborne again and flying safely away from the boat and the island, Will glanced over at her.

Eyes closed, she pressed her head against the seat. “You said you’re taking me to Juneau, right?”

“Unless you have a better idea.”

“As long as they have a hyperbaric chamber.” She opened her eyes, but squeezed the armrest.

“I’m flying low enough, the pressure shouldn’t cause you more DCS problems.” She didn’t seem to find that comforting.

The plane hit turbulence. Will had long ago learned to ride the waves in the air—better to flow with them than to fight them. But his passenger’s face went a shade whiter. These flights were rough on most others who weren’t accustomed.

He had to get her mind off it. “What’s your name?”

“Sylvie... Sylvie Masters.” She gripped the armrest so hard, he thought she might break it.

She didn’t ask for his name in return, but it was that moment when he should give it. Billy Pierson was the name everyone called him. Will had never much liked the name Billy as a kid, and wasn’t sure why he continued to put up with it as an adult. With his father gone, changing it seemed almost disrespectful. But now his mother, who had called him Will, was gone, too. Maybe it was time he changed things out of respect for her.

Even though Sylvie didn’t ask, Will told her anyway. “You can call me Will. I’m Will Pierson.”

And with the pronouncement he felt the slightest hitch in his plane, a very unfamiliar sensation that had nothing at all to do with turbulence.

THREE

“Will. I like that name.” She squeezed her eyes shut again, forcing her mind on anything but the bouncing plane. She was powerless against the jarring movement that barraged her with images of a rodeo cowboy riding a disgruntled bull. Her stomach roiling, she prayed she’d last more than the required eight seconds before being thrown.

Tossing a quick glance at Will, she hoped he hadn’t noticed her distress, though it was not likely he would have missed it. His black hair was neatly trimmed beneath his Mountain Cove Air ball cap. It looked as if he was trying to grow a beard, or he hadn’t shaved in a few days. Though he looked barely thirty—late twenties even—he had an edge to him, an aura of experience about him that made him seem older. Despite his jacket, she could tell he was strong and fit.

“If you hadn’t shown up when you did, I don’t know what I would have done. My options had run out. But in helping me, you might have gotten yourself wrapped up in my troubles.”

“And what are your troubles?”

“You know as much as I do. I don’t know why someone would want to kill me.” Sylvie wished she hadn’t said the words out loud. They disturbed her. She quickly changed the subject. Riding in the death trap of a plane was enough to handle at the moment. “Where’re you from, Will?”

“Mountain Cove.”

Sylvie couldn’t help the shiver that ran across her shoulders. Her mother would have snarled at the mention of Mountain Cove. From all she’d told Sylvie, Mountain Cove was nothing but a bunch of backwater, back-stabbing gossipers. Her mother had reason enough to feel that way, Sylvie supposed, considering she’d had a secret affair with an already married pillar of the community and the man had ended his relationship with her. Pregnant, Sylvie’s mother had been ashamed and fled Mountain Cove.

Sylvie kept to herself the fact that her father was from Mountain Cove. She’d never met him, though that would be impossible now that he was deceased. But her half siblings lived there, too. A surreal desperation flooded her—she wanted to meet the Warren siblings—her half siblings. See what they were made of. Come to her own conclusions about them, and what her real father was like and the people of Mountain Cove.

Despite all Sylvie’s mother’s negative talk about the town, she’d been on her way back to Mountain Cove for reasons unknown to Sylvie when she’d taken that last, fatal flight. But Sylvie didn’t want to share any of this with Will. She didn’t know a thing about him except that he’d saved her today.

The plane lurched to the right and Sylvie’s stomach went with it. She released a telling groan.

“It gets rough through here. Sorry.”

“So far it’s been a walk in the meadow.” Sylvie regretted her sarcasm. Will didn’t deserve it.

But he laughed. He had a sense of humor, which was more than Sylvie could say for herself. Somehow the thick timbre of his mirth relaxed her.

“You never did say where you’re from, by the way.”

No, she hadn’t. He hadn’t asked, but normal conversation would have required she reciprocate when he’d told her he was from Mountain Cove.

“The Seattle area. I teach scuba diving for commercial divers and I volunteer for search-and-rescue dive operations.”

The man next to her shifted in his seat and seemed uneasy. “My dad died in a diving accident. I haven’t gone diving since.”

“I’m sorry to hear that. My mother died in a plane crash.” She regretted her tone. She hadn’t meant it to sound as though she was in a competition.

The plane jerked with his reaction, subtle though it was. “Well, we have something in common, after all. My mother died in a plane crash, too.”

Oh, why had she revealed so much? She wasn’t sure what more she should tell him, if anything. He didn’t deserve to get mixed up in her problems. But what if he already was? Had the men who tried to kill her today paid attention to Will and his plane? Would they track him down and exact some sort of killing revenge?

She should have realized this from the beginning. The attack on her today must have to do with her mother’s plane crash. She was close to finding the crash and someone didn’t want her there. What else could it be? Or was she exhibiting the crazy imagination of someone suffering through mild hypothermia and the bends all at the same time?

A snippet of her mother’s voice mail raced across her mind.

I’m flying to Mountain Cove on a bush plane. I know what you’re thinking, but I’ll tell you more when I get there. It’s Damon... Oh... I’ve gotta go...

A rattling din—something entirely new—rose above the whir of the propellers, and a tremor joined the rattle. Was this normal? She squeezed the armrests again because there wasn’t anything else to grab. Sylvie’s warnings to her mother about flying came rushing back, swirling with images of her mother. Her relationship with Sylvie’s stepfather, Damon Masters, and the endless arguments.

Secrets.

Was her life flashing before her eyes like she’d so often heard would happen in the last few moments of life?

“What’s happening?”

When Will didn’t answer, she risked opening her eyes. His features were tight.

Okay, well, that doesn’t look good. “If I survive this, I’m never flying again. I wouldn’t be on this plane now if I had any other choice. No offense.”

“None taken.” His voice had an edge to it. “You miss out on a lot if you don’t fly. You’ll never see the world like this, see the wonders of Alaska, if you don’t get in the air and soar with the eagles.”

“Are you saying this is normal?” Her teeth clattered along with the plane.

“You just have to roll with it if you can. But if it makes you feel any better, I know what I’m doing.”

Then the plane lurched to the left, and a sound like the crack of thunder rocked the plane, vibrated through her core. “Will, I can’t die today. I have to find my mother’s plane!”

* * *

Her words held some kind of meaning for him personally, but he couldn’t figure it out when their survival was on the line, so he tucked them inside his mind to pick apart later. He’d just reassured her he was a good pilot. He needed to live up to his word.

“You’ve been honest with me to a point, so I’ll be honest with you. I think the rifleman might have done some damage to the plane. It’s taken time to work its way through, and now we’re feeling the pain of it.”

“What are you saying?”

“I’m saying I’m a good pilot—a great pilot—but it never hurts to say your prayers. Get your affairs in order with God.”

“Are you kidding me?”

“I wouldn’t kid you about something so serious.” He hated to scare her, but neither could he hide the gravity of the situation.

As he struggled to bring the vibrating plane in, to find a body of water on which to land, he thought back to his mother. Was this how she’d felt when her plane was going down? She’d been a great pilot, too. The best. And yet his mother’s plane was missing. It had to have crashed somewhere. What had Sylvie said about needing to find her mother’s plane? He couldn’t think about that now—he had to focus on keeping them alive.

A friend lived within hiking distance of the strip of water he aimed for. Even if they landed safely, Sylvie wouldn’t survive without some place warm to wait until help arrived.

The plane kicked, a rumble spilling through the fuselage. His gut tensed.

Though he struggled to grip the vibrating yoke, he reached over and pressed his hand over Sylvie’s white knuckles that squeezed the armrest. Surprising him, she released her grip and held his hand, strong and tight. Maybe it had nothing at all to do with reality but more to do with looking death straight in the eyes, but Will had a sense of connection with Sylvie Masters—a complete stranger—which made no sense.

God, please let me save Sylvie. Save the day. Like her, I want to find my mother’s plane. Find the answers. Then he understood what his mind could not comprehend earlier.

God had to have brought them together for this same purpose. They couldn’t die today.

“We’re going to be okay, Sylvie. Just keep praying.”

Her reply came out in an indistinguishable murmur. Indistinguishable but understandable, all the same. She fought to hold herself together. He couldn’t blame her. He didn’t want to release her hand, finding a comfort in her grip that he hadn’t known he needed, but he pulled away and gripped the yoke.

“There, see the water? That’s all I need for a smooth landing.” He thought of his mother again. That was all she would have needed, too. He’d long begun to suspect her plane hadn’t crashed where they could find debris, but had gone down and sunk to the bottom of the ocean, a channel somewhere, just waiting to be discovered like a shipwreck full of treasure.

The thought sickened him. His stomach pitched with the plane. Sylvie hunched over her knees, covered her head as if she was prepared to crash. As if her efforts would save her.

Will couldn’t be sure they would land on the water or that he could keep his word. Rain pelted the windshield, and as comfortable with flying as any bush pilot could be, he had to admit—but only to himself—this had been the ride of his life.

He piloted the plane forward and tried again to radio for help, but they were still in no-man’s-land.

“Sylvie?”

She mumbled. Groaned. Kept her head down.

“Promise me something.”

Another groan.

“Promise me you will fly again.”

“Are you crazy?”

At least he’d gotten a coherent response from her. “Promise me.”

“You mean if we survive?”

“Yes. I mean if I land this broken hull of a plane and we climb out of it in one piece.”

“If I say yes will you try harder to land?”

The crack in her desperate voice sent him tumbling.

“Sylvie, I couldn’t try any harder, but I thought I’d take the opportunity to extract a promise from you. I wouldn’t want you to miss out on seeing the world the way I see it.”

Sylvie stared at him, wide-eyed. “Why would you care how I see the world?”

Will couldn’t say why it was important to him, but in that instant, facing a one-of-a-kind death, he knew it was. He opened his mouth to reply but the plane shuddered and plummeted. Water swallowed them, then everything went black.

FOUR

Water rushed into the plane that had hit too hard. Sylvie fought the panic. Sucked in air hard and fast. Must. Slow. Breathing. Hyperventilating would do her no good. Passing out wasn’t an option. One of them had to get the two of them out.

With Will unconscious that would leave Sylvie.

Forget what she’d already been through. Survive. She had to survive—to reach down and find strength she didn’t know she had.

Water poured in.

The plane was sinking.

Sinking?

Sylvie had always thought floatplanes were, well, supposed to float. But then she remembered Jacques Cousteau’s son, also a diver, who died in a floatplane that crashed and sank.

Surely the pontoons would prevent it from completely submerging. Wasn’t that the whole purpose of pontoons on a floatplane? But that didn’t mean that Will wouldn’t drown in the meantime.

A small gash in his forehead bled. She unbuckled the strap, bracing herself for the rush forward into water that had quickly covered the controls.

Sylvie pressed a finger against Will’s neck, confirming he was still alive. She couldn’t accept anything less. Then she worked to unbuckle him from the shoulder harness, but it wouldn’t budge.

“Come on!” she yelled at the buckle.

What she wouldn’t give for her diver’s knife. It had to be in here somewhere. They were both fortunate her tanks hadn’t flown forward and cracked their heads during the impact.

“Will, come on, you need to wake up.”

The plane creaked and groaned. It would pitch completely over and upside down soon, and then Will’s head would be fully under water. They would both be. Sylvie searched his pockets.

There.

She found a pocketknife.

But before she set him free, she opened his door, left it hanging forward before the water pressure could seal it shut. More water rushed in at the bottom.

She was running out of time.

Quickly she sawed through his shoulder strap. Though she prepared to catch Will, his dead weight fell forward on her and smashed her against the dashboard, the yoke gouging into her back. The blow knocked the air from her lungs. She worked to push his head above the waterline.

Now to get him out. They were going to make it. She could do this. Sylvie slipped by him in the small space then tugged him out into the water. She’d swim him to shore, keeping his head high. This was lifeguard 101, and was actually much easier to do with an unconscious victim than one who was awake and struggling.

With regret, she left her diving equipment in the plane to save Will. She wouldn’t think ahead, wouldn’t concern herself with what to do, until she made it to shore. She positioned him on his back and hooked her arms under his armpits. On her back, she swam them to shore. She tried to keep her thoughts from what she might face—the immediate danger of exposure to the elements—and instead focused on what she could do. After all, two men had tried to kill her, and this seemed small in comparison.

She could swim.

Had been born with a natural affinity for water.

You’re in your element, Sylvie.

Just breathe. Swim. Save Will.

Regardless of her attempts at self-assurance, feeble though they were, fear twisted inside, corded in the sinews of her muscles. She hadn’t expected things to turn this way. Hadn’t expected to face death twice in one day.

Bad enough someone had tried to kill her. Worse, she’d almost died in a plane crash like her mother. Though she’d admit that Will’s plane—and Will himself—had saved her the first part of the day. And Will would be sick about the loss once he woke up.

He would wake up.

He had to wake up.

Her back scraped across pebbles and sand and rocks. Ignoring the pain, she dragged Will the rest of the way onto a small strip of sand. Sylvie examined his head then the rest of him. She could see no other injury besides the gash in his head that was no longer bleeding so profusely. Hopefully, it would stop soon. She had nothing with which to staunch the flow.

She could swim back and get a first-aid kit from the plane before it sank. Or her scuba equipment! But her body was too cold. It wouldn’t be safe. She might not make it back.

She held his face in her hands. “Will, can you hear me?”

He’d lost his ball cap in the melee, and his hair was thicker than she’d initially thought. He had a jutting chin on a nice strong jaw. She felt strange holding his face, touching him like this. It seemed entirely too intimate with someone who was practically a stranger, but this was a matter of life and death. She didn’t think he would care. She wished he would open his eyes—those warm brown eyes. Though she hadn’t appreciated his questions or his humor at first, the warmth in his tone had comforted her when she’d needed it.

“Will,” she whispered. “If you’ll wake up, I might just agree to fly again.”

But Will didn’t respond. The cold water hadn’t shocked him awake like she would have expected. It had shocked her system, though, and she was shivering even now. She released his face, hating that his color wasn’t good. Looking at the thick temperate rain forest behind her and across the water on the other side, she studied the mountains peaking above the treetops in the distance.

She knew enough about the geography to believe they were somewhere south, way south of Juneau. Far enough that it might as well have been a thousand miles. Sylvie dropped to where the water lapped and pressed her head into her knees.

Just what was she supposed to do now?

* * *

Cold prickles stung his face. Shivering, Will opened his eyes to raindrops bombarding him, along with what felt like an anvil pounding his temples.

Where am I?

His mind raced, competing with his pulse as he pushed up and caught sight of the woman sitting next to him, face pressed against her knees. Guilt tackled him. Though his mind was fuzzy, he somehow knew he’d failed her.

“Sylvie.” He reached over and pressed his hand against her arm. “Are you okay?”

Lifting her head, she turned to face him, her hazel eyes drawing him in. “Will, I’m so glad... I thought you were...”

Will couldn’t understand why she was still here. She was going to die if she didn’t get someplace warm. He would, too, for that matter. They’d both been soaked to the bone, and right now the temperature wasn’t much different on the ground than in the water. It was his fault she was here now. Somehow it was his fault. But his mind still struggled to understand.

Think, Will, think.

Then the all-too-fresh memories rolled over him. “How long have I been out?”

She lifted her shoulders as if called to action. “Not that long. The plane...” Sylvie looked out to the water.

Will followed her gaze. He stood, taking it all in. He’d nearly gotten them both killed. Something had gone wrong—something partly out of his hands, out of his control. But he should have improvised or adjusted. Why was that part still such a blur? He raked his arm across his eyes and forehead. It came away smeared with blood.

“You’re okay,” she said. “The bleeding stopped.”

He drew her to her feet while he stared at his plane, completely flipped nose down and sinking. “I’ve never personally seen that happen.”

Nor had he experienced anything like it. That he’d lost a plane today, to add to the loss of his mother’s plane, pressed against nerve centers he hadn’t known he possessed. But that was nothing compared to losing his mother.

Still, none of these thoughts would help Sylvie. Getting her someplace warm and safe was his priority. And knowing he had a mission, someone to help, would keep his head in the game, despite his losses.

“How did I get here?” He looked back at her, grateful the rain had eased up. “You pulled me out and swam me to safety?”

She nodded, rubbed her arms.

“Thank you.”

“I didn’t know where to go after that, what to do. Seemed like I was back where I started, only with an injured man this time. But at least no one is trying to find and kill me at the moment.”

As far as you know. But he didn’t voice his thoughts.

Will hoped that would remain the case for a long while. Forever would be nice. He grabbed her hand and squeezed. “It’s going to be okay, Sylvie. We’re going to be okay.”

Those words reminded him of something else, but he couldn’t quite remember what. Something hovered at the edge of his mind. Something about today that connected him to Sylvie. He hoped he’d remember while it still mattered.

A smile softened her grim features. He hadn’t thought her pretty at first, but now he changed his mind. Her smile brightened her eyes and emphasized appealing dimples against soft, smooth skin. Something else thrived behind her determined gaze that drew him to her.

Her shiver snapped his focus back to where it should be.

“I have a friend who lives not too far. I’m sure he saw us go down—I’m surprised he hasn’t already shown up.” That was only partially true. He’d said the man was a friend, but in fact, he was only a client and a recluse who liked his privacy. Will had no idea what reaction they would get when they showed up. Will had never actually been invited to the cabin, but knew from flying over where it was relative to the beach.

“Are you okay to walk?”

“Yes, lead the way.” She hugged herself.

“Good. Shouldn’t take long.” He trudged ahead of her.

Will wished he could hold her close to share some body heat, but that would be awkward. He didn’t think they were that desperate yet. Yes, Sylvie had taken a beating today. With her ripped suit, circles under her eyes, bluish skin and lips, anyone could look at her and see how badly she’d been hurt. But in her eyes, those hazel eyes, Will saw her unbridled determination and knew she wouldn’t accept his help.

What man could help but admire her?

They neared the tree line and he followed the brook that would eventually lead them to the off-grid cabin where John Snake lived. Snake—he liked the nickname to keep out the riffraff—usually met Will near the beach for his packages, but that was when he knew to expect Will.

He turned to check on Sylvie, but she was farther behind than he’d thought. Frowning, he made his way back. She was strong, but she’d been through a lot both before and after he’d come on the scene in his floatplane.

“Hey, you doing okay?”

Seeing her purse her lips, he got the sense she wanted to smile, but couldn’t. “How much farther?”

Will hated to tell her it was still a couple more miles, and the terrain wasn’t getting any easier. Add to that, the rain was icy cold and coming down harder.

He didn’t like the glazed look in her eyes. “A mile, maybe.”

She dropped to a log and hung her head. “Okay. I can do that. I just... I think I might have sprained my ankle. These diving boots are no good in this type of terrain.”

He frowned. “No kidding.”

“Give me a minute to rest.”

Was she serious? Will wouldn’t expect her to walk if she was injured. In fact, he shouldn’t have let her walk to the cabin even before finding out about her ankle. What with hypothermia setting in and she hinting at having decompression sickness, she was in a world of hurt, but he didn’t want to step on her strong and capable toes, so he hadn’t offered any help.

Until now. There wasn’t time to rest. They had to get out of the weather.

He scraped his arms under her knees and around her back and lifted her.

“What are you doing?” Alarm jumped from her gaze and her voice.

Will settled her against him until she felt right. She was lean and solid, as divers tended to be, but light enough he could manage the distance. “Don’t take offense, Sylvie. I need to get you out of this weather.”

Her gaze softened. “Thank you. I didn’t mean for you to have to do this.”

“I figure I owe you. After all, you pulled me from a sinking plane and swam me to shore. Saved my life. So it’s my turn to carry you.” There. Hopefully, he hadn’t offended her strong and capable woman sensibilities.

Sylvie didn’t argue and instead rested her head against his shoulder. That ignited familiar feelings inside. Protective feelings. He’d forgotten he could feel that way and instantly remembered why he hadn’t wanted to. A year ago he’d given it all to Michelle and she’d made a fool of him, practically leading him around town by the proverbial ring in his nose until she’d dumped him. In the end she couldn’t take the fact Will was a bush pilot. He was gone all the time and he wasn’t there to do her bidding or entertain her. She’d claimed she was afraid he would die out there in the bush and she’d be left alone. It was her or flying. He’d had a choice to make.

So he’d come back early, canceled a job and was almost ready to give it all up for her—against his mother’s strong advice, of course—when he found Michelle with someone else.

Everyone had seen the fool that Will had been except for Will until it was too late.

He wouldn’t allow that to happen again. But this situation had nothing to do with that one.

Two different women.

Two different scenarios.

If Sylvie had any hint of his thoughts she’d be out of his arms in a second, and that would do neither of them any good. Will had to get his mind off Sylvie’s proximity. He tried to focus on the steps he took rather than the warmth of Sylvie’s body against his.

If he could get her talking about what happened today, maybe it would distract him and they could find some answers to boot.

“Tell me about those men, Sylvie. Why did they try to kill you?”

“I already told you I don’t know anything.”

Was she telling the truth? “So this was just random, then? Two men were there, and you were at the wrong place at the wrong time? What could you have stumbled on? I can’t imagine they were out there minding their own business and decided to kill whoever showed up for no reason.”

Had she stumbled on something and was hiding that fact? There had to be much more to this story. That something gnawed at his mind again, just out of his reach. A cup of warm coffee and some rest might ease the ache in his head and set him thinking clearly again.

She released a sigh that tickled his neck. “Obviously I have a lot to figure out, but I can’t think a straight thought.”

“Right. You need food and warmth and sleep.” Just like he did. If only he could find that cabin. He hoped he didn’t run into those men after Sylvie. But they couldn’t have followed him. He’d take comfort in that. Then again, letting down his guard could be a mistake neither of them could afford.

Too many unknowns made him edgier by the second.

As the cold rain came down harder, tumbling through the canopy of spruce and hemlock, Will focused on stepping his way over slick boulders and freezing ground, careful to avoid slipping, especially with his burden. Though Sylvie was small, carrying her the distance began to weigh on him. His arms ached, challenging his confidence. He should have come across Snake’s cabin by now. If he wasn’t going to find the cabin, then they needed to make shelter while there was still enough light.

The rain eased to a fine mist, blunted by the forest canopy.

He stopped, thinking about putting her down so he could build a fire.

“Will.” Her warm breath caressed his cheek. “Through the woods...”

Will’s pulse jumped. The cabin? He peered through the trees, eyes following where she gestured. An elk. Disappointment jabbed through him that it wasn’t the cabin. How could he tell her the disheartening news that he didn’t know where he was going, after all? He set her down, steadying her to sit on a fallen log, and drew in a breath to tell her the bad news. Before he could say the words, the fog in his mind lifted, and he saw clearly what he couldn’t understand before.

Sylvie had been looking for her mother’s missing plane—the same as him.

His next words took a different tack altogether.

“Tell me about the plane you were looking for.” Ever since she mentioned her mother’s plane, Will suspected they were both on the same search. His mother’s plane was the only one that had gone missing in the area in more than a year, and there had been one passenger. A woman. Sylvie’s mother—he was sure of it. And from the look on her face, she was making the connection, too.

“You’re a bush pilot. Mountain Cove Air. That’s your company?”

He nodded. “My mother was flying a surprise package back to Mountain Cove two months ago when her plane went missing. I’ve been searching for her ever since. I think we’ve both been looking for the same plane.” How could it have flown so far off the intended path that search parties—Alaska Air National Guard, Alaska State Troopers, Alaska Fire Service, Coast Guard, Fish and Wildlife Guard, the list went on—hadn’t found them? Then again, they had thousands of square miles of islands, water and mountains to search even on the flight path she should have taken. Not counting where she might have detoured.

That was it, then. She’d taken a detour and Will suddenly knew. Why hadn’t he thought of that before? She’d kept a postcard his father had sent her years before of a beautiful waterfall. What if his mother had been showing Sylvie’s mother the sights, including her favorite?

Will remembered the postcard because of the scripture quote written on it. “But they that wait upon the Lord shall renew their strength; they shall mount up with wings as eagles; they shall run, and not be weary; and they shall walk, and not faint.” Isaiah 40:31

From the moment he’d seen the postcard and read the verse, Will had always pictured himself as an eagle when he flew. Seeing life from above, the big picture of things, must be how God saw things.

Could the plane be there?

Sylvie rubbed her arms. “Oh, Will.”

“Do you know anything about a surprise package?” he asked. “I keep wondering if...” He couldn’t bring himself to say the worst. He didn’t want to believe his mother had delivered a surprise that turned out to be an actual explosive device. The idea was too far-fetched.

“I think the surprise was my mother. She lived in Mountain Cove years ago. She left after she had an affair with a married man. It was a bad breakup. And then she found out she was pregnant. She had to leave.”

Will hated where this was going. Hated it for Sylvie. “Was she pregnant with you?”

“Yes.” She hesitated then added, “My mother’s name was Regina Hemphill. My father was Scott Warren. I have half brothers and one half sister. Maybe you know them.”

“I do.” He released a heavy sigh. “That is one surprise package. But you’re an even bigger surprise.”

“Yeah, a surprise nobody wants to hear about. Or at least, that’s what my mother told me as gently as she could when she explained why I shouldn’t try to contact my father or half siblings. I guess she didn’t want to see me get my expectations up and get hurt. I can’t be sure she even told him about me. When I finally worked up the nerve to face him on my own, I couldn’t because he had died.” She shivered, either from the memory or from the chill in the air.

Will was reminded that he needed to find shelter. They could search for a cave, but what if they didn’t find one in time? He needed to build at least a rudimentary cover. A debris hut would be quick and easy and keep them warm. He’d prefer a bough structure to reflect the warmth of a fire. The problem was a rainforest was much too wet, and the chances he could start a fire were close to zero.

God, please, we need Snake’s cabin.

“It’s not fair,” she whispered. “And I have half siblings who may not even know I’m alive. I can’t tell you how often I’ve thought of them, wanted to meet them.”

Strange to think her mother, given the circumstances of her having to leave Mountain Cove, would have told Sylvie about her half siblings. Or had she done her own research? But she wasn’t finished talking and he wouldn’t interrupt. Instead, he began creating a mound from the forest floor.

“On the other side of that, they could resent me for the reminder that their father betrayed his marriage vows with my mother. They could hate me. So it’s almost better if I never meet them. Then I can stick with believing they’d want to meet me, but don’t know if I exist or how to find me if I did.” Sylvie groaned. “I can’t believe I’m telling you all this. You didn’t exactly ask for the whole shebang.”

“I know the Warren siblings would love to meet you.” He knew the siblings were aware of their father’s affair, and knew they’d tried to find out if they had a brother or sister out there. These were conversations he couldn’t help but overhear when piloting the Warrens to Juneau or sometimes even delivering them to a SAR—search and rescue—command center. They trusted Will. But in all of this, what he’d really like to know was if his mother had known where Regina had gone all along, but said nothing. “I’ll help you make that happen.”

“No, please, no. I’m not sure I’m ready to face them. I’m torn about it. I need time to think it through. I want it to be on my terms. Please don’t ever tell them. I’ll be the one if it happens.”

“Okay, then.” If Will’s mother had kept Regina’s secret, he thought he could feel some of what she might have felt when someone extracted a promise like that.

Still, it would be a hard promise to keep, depending on how all of this unfolded. From what had happened so far, this seemed to be shaping up into quite an adventure that Will could tell his grandchildren about one day. But he couldn’t think of it as an adventure until it was over and they survived. Grandchildren? He’d never get married so children were out of the question.

Will needed to excavate a hole in the debris, and then he and Sylvie would have to crawl into the pile, supported by loose branches, and hope to keep warm. Tomorrow he could build something better, if it came to that.

She tilted her head. “I thought you were making a fire.”

“A fire? It’s too wet.”

“Oh, I guess you’re right. I should be helping you.” Sylvie stood then fell back to the log.

“You’re injured. No need to help.” Will took a short break and sat next to Sylvie on the log, hoping his body heat would warm her, wishing his headache would subside.

“I know it’s hard to understand how I can ask you to keep my secret. Mom made it sound like the whole town of Mountain Cove gossiped about her. Practically ran her out of town. That’s why I need to work up my nerve before approaching the Warrens.”

“You? You’ve got nerves of steel.” Will inserted some humor into this too-serious conversation to cover his own growing anxiety about their chances of survival.

“Nerves of steel don’t matter. Under the right circumstances even something as benign as salt can turn corrosive and erode steel.” Sylvie shifted next to him. “Despite her feelings about the town, she was on her way back to Mountain Cove. I guess I’ll never understand why, but I wanted to find her plane. I want to know what happened.”

“You and me both, Sylvie. You and me both.” Will waited for Sylvie to go on, one question burning in his mind. When she didn’t continue, he asked, “Did you find what you were looking for? Did you find the plane?”

Sylvie opened her mouth to speak.

A twig snapped from the shadows. Will sprang from the log to face the threat. He stood in front of Sylvie to protect her and reached for his weapon, but came up empty-handed. He’d forgotten that he didn’t have it. It was submerged with his plane.

Wearing a hood, a man emerged from the trees. Friend or foe?

“Snake?” Will squinted, studying the intruder.

The man stepped forward and tugged back his hood. “What are you doing here?”

FIVE

What kind of name is that?

Will glanced over his shoulder at Sylvie. She stood from the log, easing onto her good foot and using Will’s back for support. She wanted to be standing in case they needed to make a run for it.

“Sorry for the unannounced visit, Snake. You know I’d never intrude if it wasn’t an emergency. But I had some plane trouble. A hard landing and Sylvie and I...we’ve had a brush with death or two today.”

The man’s expression darkened as he studied both Sylvie and Will. It seemed that he had issues with trust. Clearly he lived a reclusive life away from civilization. Away from the prying eyes of the law. She wouldn’t second-guess his reasons. This wasn’t her world.

“Come on, then.” He turned and disappeared into the trees.

Will lifted her back in his arms and followed. “Only a little longer, Sylvie. You hanging in there? Doing okay?”

“I’m good, thanks to you.”

“You’ll be thanking Snake before too long. He’s the one with the cabin and a warm fire. I bet he’ll have a big pot of game stewing, too. That’s what I’d do in this weather if I were him.”

Sylvie’s mouth watered at the mention of food. She could already imagine the warm fire and wanted nothing more than to sleep in a soft bed, covers piled high. Safe, sound and secure. She sighed at the thought. Was that asking too much?

But she had to remain vigilant. This wasn’t over yet. She couldn’t rest until it was. And Will deserved an answer to his question. “No. I didn’t find the plane. I thought I saw something, though. The glint of what could have been part of a plane. That’s when I was attacked.”

Lines pressed between his brows.

“There’s something else,” she whispered. “I’m grateful for your help and for Snake’s, but you know I need to get out of here. I need a decompression chamber. And I don’t want to put anyone else in danger.”

There, she’d said the words that had been crawling over her ever since Will had made an appearance today and put himself between her and the men trying to kill her.

“One thing at a time,” he said. “Snake has a radio. While I was in the air trying to figure out how to rescue you, I tried to radio for help a few times, but no one connected on the other end.” He glanced at her, his strong, scruffy jaw and warm brows much too close. “I’ll make the call for help first thing. Only Snake isn’t going to like it.”

“Why not?” But she thought she already knew.

“He lives off-grid. Doesn’t want anyone to know he’s here. Doesn’t want to draw attention to his castle in the glen. Once people know about his castle, he might be overrun with marauders.”

“Out here? Nah, I doubt it.” Sylvie couldn’t help but grin at his medieval references. He was definitely chivalrous, a real knight in shining armor, now that she thought about it. With his strong arms holding her, carrying her over and through the terrain—not an easy task in places—and keeping her pressed against his warm, muscular form, she couldn’t think straight.

She had to get her mind on something else. She was strong and independent, and didn’t like that being near him turned her soft and compliant. Made her needy. She couldn’t afford to be like her mother when it came to men, and get hurt in the worst of ways. With all that had happened today, she feared her suspicions that her mother had been murdered were confirmed, and she’d almost blurted it all out to Will. She wasn’t ready to tell him her darkest of secrets yet. Not until she was absolutely certain of it. She didn’t want to think about it now, didn’t want to face the truth of what that would mean. So she turned her thoughts back to Will and Snake.

“But you know where he lives.”

“That, I do. He needs someone he can trust to bring him supplies and keep his existence a secret.”

“Are you telling me the Alaska State Troopers or the Coast Guard or some other entity doesn’t know he’s here?”

“Maybe they do, maybe they don’t. The point is that he is off the grid and off the radar. Or at least, he was.”

“And now you’ve blown his trust.”

“He invited us to follow him, didn’t he?”

“Doesn’t mean he’ll let you use his radio.”

“That remains to be seen.”

Sylvie wasn’t sure she liked Will’s answer. Was he going to use the radio or not? And if not, how did they get out of here? The need to get them out of his sanctuary should be reason enough for Snake to let them call for help.

Sylvie could barely make out the man’s silhouette ahead of them since he made better time, crept stealthily through the forest much faster than Will, who carried Sylvie. Once again, she found the need to distract herself from Will’s sturdy body, and the great care and attention he took to making the ride as smooth as possible despite the slick, sodden boulders and fallen trunks and debris he had to step over and around.

Finally, Will stood at the open door of Snake’s log cabin and then carried Sylvie over the threshold.

“You can set her down over there.” Snake referred to her as if she were a box of supplies and gestured to a long sofa near the woodstove.

Will was right. The man had something going on the stove, and the aroma stirred her hunger. After Will gently settled her on the sofa—worn out but more plush than she would have expected—Snake appeared by Will’s side with a first-aid kit.

“Thanks.” Will took the kit. “She needs dry clothes, too. Got any extras? I’ll make sure to reimburse you.”

“No need for that.” Snake nodded and disappeared through a door off the main room.

“I agree,” she said. “There’s no need for you to reimburse Snake for any dry clothes he offers me. I’m perfectly capable of doing that myself.”

At Will’s surprised glance, she added, “And I’m perfectly capable of being grateful.” She offered a smile of her own. “Thank you, Will, for your thoughtfulness. For carrying me through the woods. I’m sorry you had to do that. Besides, you need them, too.”

“What do I need?” Will crouched near her ankle and examined it.

“Dry clothes.”

“I’ll manage. And you’re welcome, by the way. All in a day’s work.”

Yeah, right. When he touched her ankle, she winced.

“It’s not so bad,” he said, “And probably the least of your worries. Am I right?”

“You know you are.”

He shot her a grin that tugged at her insides. She was losing it. Cold and hungry and injured and...well...that made her vulnerable. Sylvie wouldn’t read anything into his grin. She couldn’t afford to get sidetracked.

“I’ll wrap this after you change out of the dry suit.” Will stood when Snake appeared and held out a couple of large flannel shirts and some jeans.

“These do?”

Will cocked a brow at Sylvie, humor flickering in his gaze.

“It’ll have to. Thank you, Snake.” Saying his name felt awkward on her lips.

Will slung the extra clothes over his shoulder. “Thanks, Snake.”

Sylvie hated to ask, hated to need help, but worse than that, she hated to limp across the floor. No, falling on her face would be worse. She had some vertigo. Not good. She hoped she only had a mild case of DCS. She’d never before gotten the bends. The dive hadn’t been that deep, and she’d descended at the appropriate rate. But her ascending straight to the surface without any stops had been all it took to throw her body chemistry into turmoil. The cold water and exertion from fighting off a killer hadn’t done her any favors.

The next few hours would be telling, especially if she didn’t get help. But first things first. Right now she simply needed to make it to that room for some privacy. “Will, can you assist me to the room so I can change?”

“Sure thing. Um... Sylvie... I need to doctor that gash across your shoulder and back, too.”

“You don’t think that can wait?”

His grin from moments ago quickly faded. “No.”

“I need to doctor your head,” she said. Fair play.

“Snake has a mirror. I can take care of it.”

But Sylvie couldn’t reach her shoulder and back, even with a mirror, so that was that. She let the compassion and concern in Will’s warm brown eyes calm her nerves. He was good in that way, even addicting if she wasn’t careful.

“While you guys take care of business,” Snake said, “I’ll dish up the stew. Got strong coffee going, too. When you’re ready, we’ll eat.”

“Sounds good.” Will assisted Sylvie into what was obviously Snake’s bedroom and set her on the bed. He frowned down at her.

All she wanted to do was lie down and sleep forever. This close to a bed, the warmth of the cabin and the aroma of the stew, she could sense the adrenaline crash coming.

Hold it together. Just a little longer.

“You okay to get out of that suit without any help?” His tone and the look in his eyes said his only concern was for her. He wasn’t going to take advantage of her. She didn’t trust easily, but he’d brought her this far. She wanted to trust him.

“Thanks, Will, but I can handle it.”

“Good. Call me when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” His words held tenderness that pricked her heart. She was definitely vulnerable. Somehow she had to get her guard back up. She’d been through too much already.

Her stepfather had been a wonderful father during her childhood. Someone she could trust, someone she had been proud to call Dad, until she’d become older and wiser. When she was a teenager, she discovered he was having an affair. The betrayal devastated Sylvie. She didn’t know where to turn. She didn’t want to hurt her mother, but finally shared his duplicity, only to learn that her mother already knew. How could her mother let him treat her like that? At first Sylvie thought her mother hadn’t left because she loved him—which just proved how dangerous love could be. Sylvie built a wall around her heart that day. She could never trust anyone again. And from that moment on, she called him Damon.

But then, behind closed doors, she heard the arguments. Raised voices. Her mother crying. And then Sylvie began to suspect that her mother hadn’t left Damon because she was afraid of him. Afraid to leave. Damon was a powerful man.

None of that mattered now, except to remind her to keep her guard up around Will. She needed to keep herself together until she was back home. Or at least in that decompression chamber.

Sitting on the edge of the bed, her ankle throbbing, every joint in her body aching badly enough to make her completely forget the open gash in her back, she drew in a breath and prepared to peel out of the dry suit and layers of clothing beneath. All she wanted was a hot shower, but she supposed the best she could get at an off-grid cabin was a sponge bath. She looked down to see the ripped, practically shredded suit. She hadn’t wanted to look too closely. Seeing it now, a replay of the last few hours flashed through her mind, reel after reel.

All the way to her soul, Sylvie was torn and ripped like the dry suit she wore.

She pressed her face into her hands and let everything she’d held back come flooding out.

* * *

Will had changed quickly so he’d be ready to dress Sylvie’s wound. Behind the door he could hear her quiet sobs. She’d been strong, held it together in front of him. He wasn’t sure why the sound rocked through him, knocking against the hidden parts of his heart. He pressed a hand on the door as though he could comfort her. He didn’t know this woman at all, but he didn’t have to know her to feel the pain with her.

He let his hand drop. He wouldn’t go rushing in. He wasn’t a knight and she didn’t want to be saved. If he knew anything at all about the woman shut away in the room, it was that she didn’t want him to see her vulnerable. Sucking in a breath, he glanced up and caught Snake watching him from where he hovered over the fire, dishing up the stew that he cooked in a cast-iron pot hanging over the flames, old school.

Will had another situation he’d been avoiding. He needed to face off with Snake about using the radio to call for help. He knew the other man wouldn’t be pleased. The harsh environment along with fifty-plus years had made the man hard and lean. He kept his long silver hair in a ponytail hanging down his back, and time spent away from civilization kept his expression harsh, especially when faced with having to make conversation. But he’d still saved them. Will would give him that. He hadn’t been anything but helpful—so far.

Snake’s bushy eyebrows creased together as he stood from the fire and held out a bowl. “You hungry?”

Will took the bowl, but set it on the table. “Thanks, but I’ll wait for Sylvie.”

“Suit yourself.” Snake remained standing and wolfed up a few spoonfuls of his stew then paused, the spoon halfway to his mouth. “Something on your mind?”

Here comes the moment of truth. “I told you we had some trouble. That trouble includes men who tried to kill her, kill us. They shot at my plane. Caused some damage and we went down. I hope I haven’t brought the trouble to your door.”

Snake’s eyes narrowed. He set his bowl on the home-crafted table and crossed his arms. “What do you need?”

“I need to use your comm to call for help.”

Snake shook his head. “You’re not bringing them here.”

“You can see she’s injured.”

“Call them and make arrangements to meet them elsewhere. I’ll help you get there.”

Will scraped a hand over his face, exhaustion creeping into his bones. “She has the bends, and with her other injuries she needs treatment right away.”

Snake’s eyes lit up, surprising Will. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

“Would it have made a difference?”

“I’m a diver. Got the equipment. Worst case, she could recompress in the water.”

Will shook his head. “That is the worst case. It’s too risky. Better to wait for a hyperbaric chamber, which is why I need to use your radio.”

“Well, you know the option is available. Why don’t you tell her and let her make the decision? She isn’t afraid of diving.”

Had Will been that readable?

Snake disappeared through a door, reappearing a minute later to set his scuba equipment out in full view. Was that because he didn’t trust Will to bring it up?

Will frowned.

“Make your call. Pick a meeting time and place. Early morning’s best. Give us time to rest up and gather the gear we’ll need.”

“I can’t ask for more than that.”

Will hated to put it off that long, considering Sylvie needed assistance sooner rather than later, but Snake was right. If they were forced to travel to make contact, they couldn’t do it in inclement weather in the middle of the night. He had to persuade Snake to shorten the distance they needed to travel.

“Just how far do you want us to go?”

“I don’t want anyone coming within five miles of my cabin. That might sound harsh, Will, but let me remind you that if it was someone else I’d seen tromping through the woods, I wouldn’t have shown my face. I wouldn’t have offered an invitation into my home. I wouldn’t even have opened my door.”

“I know.” Will was grateful to Snake. The man had chosen this lifestyle for reasons unknown to Will. He wouldn’t pry.

“About those men who tried to kill you? You sure they didn’t follow you here?”

“I don’t see how they could have, but neither can I be sure. I don’t know who they are or why they tried to kill her.” He had his suspicions. Some things were trying to fall into place, but mostly it was still a mystery.

“What do you know about her?”

“Nothing. I just happened to be flying overhead in time to see her running for her life.” Will struggled with whether or not to share the full of it with Snake, considering he didn’t particularly seem the kind of person who would want to know the details about others’ lives, nor would he reciprocate. Best to keep things simple and not share that Will and Sylvie had both lost their mothers on the same MIA airplane. For now.

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