Freezing water swallowed him. Actually, freezing didn’t even come close to describing the walls of ice encasing his body. Through his mask, he kept his eyes fixed on the raft above him, the tiny inflatable holding his entire world. That woman had come to mean more to him in a few days than anyone in his life. So much so, he couldn’t imagine his life without her.
Pumping his feet, he surged upward, bubbles streaming past in the murky underwater until… He burst free from the icy clamp of the underworld. He bobbed to the surface and gave a thumbs-up to the helicopter overhead.
Slicing through the sea with stroke after stroke, his body rode waves as he swam. Needing to see her. Hear her. Hold her vibrant, alive body so he could stop the shaking inside him that had started the second he’d learned she was taken.
His palm slapped the edge of the rubber lifeboat and he grabbed hold with his other hand as well. He peered up and found Sunny looking down at him, shivering and drenched, with her lips turning blue, but alive.
“Wade, I can’t believe it’s you.” She grabbed his arms and tugged. “You’re here.”
The raft lurched, nearly pitching her out, rolling water splashing her in the face. Her grip loosened, her legs sliding around on the rubber raft until she nearly tumbled into the churning ice below.
“Let go,” he ordered, “and back to the other side of the raft so I can bring myself in.”
If she got dumped into the water without an antiexposure suit it would be bad, beyond bad. Carefully, as if his life depended on it—and it did, since Sunny’s life was in the balance—he hefted himself into the raft. Her teeth chattering, she wrapped her arms tight around him.
“You’re okay, you’re okay,” he said, more to reassure himself than her, wanting to hang on, rooted in the knowledge that she was alive and whole.
But with regret, he pried her off him. He needed to get her covered.
He unstrapped the survival gear from his back and whipped free the Thinsulate blanket. He held it open just as she fell into his arms. He wrapped her and he gathered her to his chest, against his pounding heart.
Out of the corner of his eye, he saw a cable from the chopper lowering Franco into the boat. Franco would search while they raised Sunny back up into the helicopter in a metal basket. He would have to let Sunny go, and that was going to damn near rip his heart out when he’d only just got her back, but Franco might need his help.
“Sunny?” He squeezed her gently. “How many people are still in the boat?”
“One man alive, stabbed and t-t-tied up,” she chattered. “T-two dead, he shot them. He shot Astrid and Ryker.” Her hazel eyes turned murky and haunted. “Their bodies are both in the water.”
He ticked through his memories of the people in her community. Ryker was Flynn’s brother. Astrid was her brother’s wife. Innocent victims, or had they been caught up in the bomber’s plan? They must have been, given how unlikely it was for anyone in that community to be here. Now.
What the hell had she been though? “Are you hurt? Do you need medical attention?”
He picked up her hand where he saw blood on it. No wound. Just a long streak up her arm. Under her nails. Dear God, she’d been the one to do the stabbing. He placed his fingers on her wrist to measure her heart rate.
“N-not hurt,” she murmured through her chattering teeth. “J-just possibly going into shock.”
She blinked up at him, eyes wide. And wasn’t that just like her to assess her situation with a cool head even as her pulse slowed, her skin frighteningly pale? But she would be okay. He kissed the top of her head, where icicles formed in her hair.
Sunny burrowed closer, tighter, and he braced his back for a swell to keep the water off her while he waited for the helicopter to return with the basket. Until then, Sunny would be safe with him.
“J-just don’t let go.” She shivered against him. “Please God, don’t ever let me go.”
That was a request he intended to honor with every fiber of his being.
***
With Flynn standing tall beside her, Misty stared up at the landing helicopter, almost afraid to hope what Lasky had told her could be true. That Sunny was safe, inside that descending military chopper.
Wind from the rotors stirred up a swirling snowstorm as the MH-60 landed in the parking lot. With her sister inside. The pilot had called in the successful rescue to Agent Lasky, but Misty wouldn’t be able to breathe freely until she saw Sunny with her own eyes.
What a difference an hour could make. Her sister had been saved. The bomb had been defused. And the power plant had been declared clear.
Now the authorities would be turning their attention to questioning Brett Livingston, once he got his gut stitched up from the stab wound Sunny inflicted. And they would work to locate and retrieve Astrid and Ryker’s bodies. She slid her hand into Flynn’s. His face was stoic. But she knew him well enough to sense he was shell-shocked and hurting underneath. Her heart ached for him.>He shot a quick glance at Franco, suited up now as were the two pilots. Those suits were crucial gear when flying over the life-sapping cold waters of the Bering Sea. Without the suits, someone in the water would be dead within just a couple of minutes.
Sunny would be dead.
Never had the speed of his mission been more important.
“Ready in front. How’re we doing in back?” crackled over Wade’s helmet.