Sheikh Defence. Ryshia Kennie

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      They’d been flying for well over an hour. Jer and he had caught up on where each of them were in their lives. For five minutes they flew in silence.

      “Do you see it?” Jer asked.

      “I do.” He was hanging half out of the chopper. Ahead of them and slightly less than fifty miles off the coast of Paradise Island was a speck that didn’t fit. A minute later and it was clear that it was a small dark gray dinghy.

      “Bang on, Craig,” he said as if the tech was actually present. His coordinates had been near perfect, for the craft was only a mile away from where his tech had tracked it. It was barely visible as it rose and fell in waves that were growing larger with every minute.

      “Raft,” Jer said unnecessarily as he read off the coordinates. “We may have us a survivor.”

      The helicopter buzzed closer and it was hard to tell who or what they might be faced with. Faisal could only hope that there were at least two people in that life raft, the right two people—Dan and Ava Adams.

      Tension mixed with excitement settled within the confines of the helicopter. The odds that this could be anyone else, considering even what little they knew, were remote.

      “It’s loaded,” Jer said as he dipped the helicopter and lost altitude.

      His gaze swept the area while never letting the life raft leave his sight. Dan and Ava had to be alive. He refused to accept another scenario. He looked at his watch as he estimated the hours they might have been in the water.

      Faisal got into position to be dropped down. The flight suit he’d donned an hour earlier seemed both familiar and restrictive. He should have a wetsuit but he hadn’t thought of that. Emotion had blinded him. He wiped perspiration from his forehead and let the adrenaline fire him up as it always did.

      “One occupant,” Faisal muttered a few minutes later as he slipped the harness on and prepared to be dropped. His heart sank. That meant that one of them might not have made it.

      He wasn’t going to assume anything. This could be Ava Adams or Dan Adams or it could even be someone else who had been on that yacht, someone he wasn’t aware of. For now, he was focused on rescue, nothing more.

      Whoever was in the raft hadn’t moved. And it was impossible to tell from this distance if they were alive or dead.

Chapter Four

      “We’ve got a survivor.” Jer’s overly enthusiastic voice seemed oddly disembodied as it came through the headset.

      Faisal didn’t respond, not even to the whoop that followed Jer’s statement. Neither were something that needed a response. Neither the enthusiasm nor the words that preceded it needed confirmation. They had all seen, as the waves rocked the raft, the movement within the small craft. But the move had been slight and gave no indication as to the condition of their survivor. Those thoughts ran through his mind as he focused on the details of his descent.

      Sam turned and gave him a thumbs-up.

      Faisal returned the gesture feeling pumped and optimistic.

      The ocean was rough and the raft was clearly visible now. In fact, they were close enough to see that the survivor was alone, and that she was no longer moving. They could also see that her feet were bare. Her peach-colored wrap barely covered her torso and was the only spot of color against the dark gray craft and the stormy gray of the ocean only hinting at blue. Her dark hair spread like tangled clumps of seaweed around her. Her body seemed to rock with the movement of the water, rising and falling, offering no resistance. It was as if she were barely alive and, despite the movement they’d seen minutes earlier, that they might be too late.

      Faisal pushed that thought away. He was poised at the open doorway, wanting to move into action.

      “She looks in rough shape,” Jer said as he turned the helicopter around, bringing it closer to the raft. He cleared his throat. They both knew that despite Jer’s earlier enthusiasm, which was so typical of him, that what he said now only reflected his doubt that they had a survivor at all.

      “We’ll get her to Mercy in Miami.”

      “I’ll let them know the status and give the Coast Guard a heads-up too.”

      “Possible survivor,” he said for Jer’s benefit so that he could relay the information. He only prayed it was true. If it were, they’d got here in the nick of time. She was in the middle of nowhere and way underdressed for the overnight conditions. Water in the life raft was causing it to list and that only caused more waves to crest the top of the small craft and fill it with more water. It was only a matter of time before this life raft sank.

      They were closer now and it was clearer than it had been earlier that she wasn’t dead. She’d moved. It had only been a slight, maybe involuntary action because she’d been still since but it was movement. Relief raced through him while at the same time he wished more than just the three of them were here to rescue her. If they’d had time they would have brought a medic with them. But the timing had been off and the swiftness with which they’d had to move out had prevented any of that. The only thing they could do was make tracks to the emergency room.

      It was a fairly easy descent. What wasn’t going to be easy was the landing. It wasn’t something he’d done in a while but it wasn’t unfamiliar, none of it was, not the work nor the pilot he was currently working with. Jer and he had worked together before many times and, despite his idiosyncrasies, he was one of the best.

      Minutes later he was lowering himself toward the raft. He waved at Sam once as he gave a direction before twisting in the wind churned up by the helicopter blades. He angled toward the raft as much as he could but the conditions were against him. The wind was kicking up faster than he’d anticipated. The life raft was rocking in the waves. Despite Jer’s expertise in keeping the helicopter in position, and Sam’s with the winch line, it was taking all his skill to keep on target.

      Already, he could see that this rescue was going to be much more difficult than they’d thought. They’d factored in as much as they could. While the wind had been part of that, there was no correcting for the force of the wind twisting him as he descended. That combined with a rough ocean had both the weather and the raft working against them. She’d moved only once since that slight movement almost ten minutes ago when they’d first spotted her. Had both times only been a figment of his imagination? Had it been only the result of the freefall of the raft as it fell within the trough of the waves? Yet he’d factored that, and they hadn’t thought so at the time. Still, he wondered.

      Dark hair streamed down her back. He was close enough now to see that she was slim and long legged, and while he shouldn’t be sure without seeing her face, he knew without doubt who she was. And his heart pounded in response to that knowing.

      He wanted to hurry the last few seconds up, get on the raft. But he couldn’t rush, couldn’t afford a mistake. Instead he took in details, as if that would take the edge off his impatience. She had little on, a silk cover that was soaked and covered nothing. What looked like a man’s jacket was draped over her ankles like it had slipped down during the night. Her face was hidden from him by her hair. That was a concern for she was lying facedown. She could have suffocated against the rubber or drowned in the water that covered some of the bottom of the dinghy.

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