Love, Lattes and Mutants. Sandra Cox

Чтение книги онлайн.

СКАЧАТЬ me is the layer of fat under the skin to keep me warm. Right now, the only thing keeping my teeth from chattering is constant movement. Even so, goose bumps roughen my skin as I swim toward the orange dot. A swell tosses me backward. I’m getting nowhere.

      I get my bearings and dive beneath the waves. Ah, much better. The ocean is rough but I’m holding my own. I press my lips together and taste the salty liquid of the sea.

      I swim for about eight minutes then surface, just in time to get hit by another wave. Several feet away, something floats on the water. The downpour so intense I can’t make out what it is. I swim forward, reach…and a gust of wind carries it away. I dive after it, stretching out my arm till it feels like my joints will pop. I’ve got it! My heart sinks. A life preserver.

      “This doesn’t mean it belongs to Tyler.” The howling wind whips my words away.

      Without the sun, it’s impossible to tell what time it is. I’ve been in the water for hours. I’m tiring. Even girls with dolphin DNA have limits in storms.

      Time to go back under. I start to dive down just as a wave lifts me eight feet in the air and tosses me down. I belly flop. “Ouch!” It hurts like a mother. Ignoring the pain, I dive below.

      Rod cells in my retinas allow me to see in the murky dark of the ocean. Nothing shows above. At least the swimming isn’t so difficult. Cold waves still buffet me, but not with the intensity of the surface.

      I’m several miles out. I have to believe Tyler would have headed back when the squall hit or at least tried. I decide to swim horizontal with the shore for a six-mile radius from the dock. It’s not perfect but it’s a plan.

      Back and forth. Back and forth. I’m exhausted, but I force myself on. I have no idea how long I’ve been in the water. My neck has a permanent crick in it from staring up at the surface.

      I keep thinking of that floatation device. What if it’s too late when I find him? Or worse yet, what if he’s never found?

      I’m so tired it takes me a moment to realize there’s a shadow on the water. As I get closer, I see the outline of a boat tilted on its side. I swim faster.

      There! Two long legs hang from the side of the boat, water running in rivulets along the dark hairs covering them. Pushing with my feet, I swim straight up, bubbles pouring behind me as I breathe rapidly.

      I hit the surface.

      It’s Tyler! Barely conscious, he holds on to the side, a life preserver wrapped around his waist.

      The temperature is dropping. The rain continues its steady downpour. At least the waves have died to manageable levels. I take his hands and try to pry them away from the boat. “Let go, Tyler. I’ll tow you in.”

      Barely conscious, he blinks at me. “Piper?”

      Even in the water, my body jerks. How has he recognized me? My voice.

      I can’t worry about that now. I grab his life vest. “Tyler, let go.”

      “I can’t.” His head lolls, his eyes close, his shoulders slump. I have no idea how long he’s been in the water. I touch his hand. It’s icy cold. What if he has hypothermia? Fear sluices through me.

      I have to concentrate on getting him to shore.

      “Let go.” I paddle in place beside him.

      “Can’t,” he repeats.

      I massage the pressure points in his hands. Gradually, they open. Rain continues to fall, plastering his hair to the sides of his skull. His white cheekbones look like they will break through the skin any minute. A wave hits and knocks him several feet from the boat. I dive into the water and catch up with him in a few smooth strokes.

      I surface, grab his life vest, and haul him toward shore. He floats on his back, water from the rain and waves drenching his face. I fervently hope he doesn’t drown before I get him to land. Is that what waterboarding feels like?

      “Tyler.”

      He makes no response.

      “Stay with me, Tyler.” I strike out faster, extending my arm as far as I can, and kick hard. Steadily, we move forward.

      I feel the tremor of the wave before it reaches us. Pulling Tyler’s icy body against mine, I bury his head in my shoulder. His skin is so cold it permeates my bones. I push my body close to his, trying to warm him but my own body temperature is too low.

      Moments later the wave crashes over us. The powerful icy surge sucks us down. Tyler squirms against me trying to break free. I hold on, afraid he’ll drown if I let go. If the wave doesn’t flatten soon, he will anyway.

      Finally, the wave subsides with a grumbling swish. Tyler has stopped struggling.

      I head toward shore. My heart races, my breath comes in short sharp gasps. “You stay with me, Tyler. Do you hear?” I yank hard at his hair for emphasis.

      “Ouch.”

      It’s weak but I hear it.

      “Piper.” It’s no more than a breath near my ear.

      “I’m not Piper,” I shout into the wind.

      There’s no response. I swim harder. My arms and legs ache. The sky has lightened to dull gray, still dark but not black. The rain has turned to cold drizzle. I’m exhausted. Even mutants have their limits, especially when they’re hauling a limp young man through undercurrents.

      I squint through the dreary mist. To my right and several hundred yards ahead is the cove. I switch direction and head toward it, praying Gramps will be waiting for me. As I get closer, I see the beam of truck lights.

      My pace picks up. It has to be Gramps! There’s a steep, overgrown, one-vehicle lane that circles down to the cove. It’s a private road that no one else uses.

      Water slaps against rock. We’ve made it. I hit the shallows and pull myself up on rubbery legs. I let go of Tyler’s life vest and he splashes back into the water. I grab the back of his vest and haul him out.

      His eyes open, dilated and unfocused. He grabs my shoulders and pulls me down against him. Shock shoots through my system. He moves a hand, brings my head down to his, and plants his mouth on mine. Not quite sure how it happens, I’m returning a kiss that has a little tongue and a lot of experience. I forget the cold and wet, lost in the moment.

      He sighs. His hands fall to the wet sand. I lift my head and his flops to the side.

      “Tyler?”

      No response. He’s passed out.

      “Piper!” Gramps comes running.

      “I’m okay.” My cheeks hot, I hope the overcast sky and rain curtained that kiss from my grandfather’s view.

      “How’s the boy?” Gramps hauls him away from the water, further up the rocky shore. Tyler’s body bumps over pebbles and stones, till Gramps lays him on a flat spot of sand.

      “I don’t know.”

      Gramps СКАЧАТЬ