Breathless. Sharron McClellan

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      “You’re my crew,” she said, uncomfortable with the praise.

      They reached the engine room, and the twin engines ran loud but steady as Al held them on course. No smoke. No fire. All seemed normal.

      Until she looked up at Zach.

      Head cocked, his eyes were narrowed.

      “What?” Jess asked. “What’s wrong?”

      He held up a finger, indicating that she should be quiet. Walking over to the right engine, he kneeled down, peered between the moving parts and stiffened. “Jess?”

      She hurried over, kneeled beside him, and he pointed at something. “Any idea what that could be?”

      Her eyes widened. Metal casing. Wires. Timer. She knew what it was, and the thought made her gut twist. “Yes. It’s a bomb.”

      Jess slid out from under the engine and sat up. Whoever had set the device was good. Very good.

      Luckily, she was better.

      “Well?” Zach asked. At his feet were the tools she’d requested.

      “They used an rpm sensor on one of the propeller shafts to trigger the timer.”

      He appeared confused, but she suspected it wasn’t that he couldn’t figure out what an rpm sensor did but it was residual shock from finding a bomb on his ship.

      “It’s a cheap part,” she explained. “But clever. It reads the revolutions per minutes of the shaft, and as we speed up it converts them to miles per hour based on the circumference of the shaft.”

      Zach looked up and to the right, his expression blank as he sorted what she was saying. When he looked back at her, she knew she was seeing the geek. The man that made millions with a single, complex thought.

      In this case, not so complex, but so far out of his realm that it seem fictional. “So when we reached speed, it triggered the bomb.”

      “Yes.”

      “Will it detonate if we stop?”

      She shook her head. “No. But it’s not going to stop the timer, either.” She braced herself, waiting for the panic that was sure to follow that statement.

      He nodded, taking in the information. “This means they knew the circumference of the shaft. They know boats. Timing.”

      Jess cocked her head, surprised at his calm demeanor. She’d expected fear, but instead he’d accepted the situation with unnatural calm.

      Maybe his previous government missions were more dangerous than Delphi let on, and he was more accustomed to danger than she knew. Or perhaps it was simply denial. Either way, it worked for her and there was no time to analyze his psyche.

      “Possibly,” she said, continuing Zach’s train of thought and adding her own. “Or they had plenty of time to figure it out while we were at the bar last night,” she said. An alternative thought crossed her mind—that one of his crew set the bomb—but she didn’t voice her suspicion.

      Zach had kept cool regarding the bomb but she suspected that accusing one of his crew of espionage would send him over the edge.

      “What does all this mean to us?” Zach asked. “Do we have time to go back to port? Get the crew off and then deal with this?”

      “I’d rather not,” Jess said. “We need to stay out at sea. If I screw up, I’d rather do it in the middle of nowhere.”

      “Good point,” Zach said. “But what about my people?”

      His people. She prayed that none were involved in setting the device. “Of course,” she said. “We can stop the boat and put them in the life raft.” She nodded toward the rigged engine. “If this goes south, I don’t want their deaths on my hands.”

      “How long do we have?”

      She took a deep breath, held it and focused. “The timer is set for an hour, and we have about fifty minutes left. I want you all in the raft in five minutes.”

      “There’s a bomb on the boat?” Liz’s voice squeaked. She was the last to arrive when Zach called for “all hands on deck.” The rest of the crew still stared at Zach, stunned.

      All of them.

      Not involved, Jess thought with relief. She’d seen enough, knew enough, to know a lie when she heard one, and the entire crew looked as if they’d been knocked upside their heads with a mallet.

      “That’s what I said,” Zach said. “Now, everyone in the raft. Jess and I are taking her out as far as we can then she’ll dismantle the bomb.”

      “Jess?”

      “Apparently, it’s what she does for fun,” Zach said, looking at her.

      She shrugged.

      “Son…”

      “Dad, do it.” Zach said. “I need you to take care of them.”

      Still, they didn’t move, shocked by the revelation.

      Jess walked to Zach’s side. This had gone on long enough. Stunned or no, she needed them gone. The longer they took the less time she had. “Everyone in. I need you to leave. Now.”

      Everybody boarded the Zodiac but Zach. Pointedly, she looked at him. Then the raft.

      He shook his head. “You need me to drive.”

      Dammit, she didn’t have time to fight him. “I can pilot a boat, and I don’t need heroes,” she said under her breath to Zach as the others bobbed on the waves, waiting.

      “I’m not a hero,” he replied. “Have you ever driven a twin engine?”

      “Yes.”

      “One that has separate throttle and gear levers?”

      Hell. “Yes.”

      “Liar.”

      She sighed. The others were waiting. “Just go.”

      He shook his head again. “No. I’m not leaving you here, and the longer you argue the less time we have.” Leaning over the edge, he tossed his father a radio.

      “We’ll be at the dock,” Al said.

      Jess didn’t miss the ashen skin beneath his tan, and she couldn’t blame him. Bad enough to lose the boat.

      But Zach was his only son.

      Zach nodded. “See you there.”

      Al nodded then revved up the Zodiac engine and sped toward port.

      “Get to work,” Zach said, walking to the helm. “I’m taking us away from traffic.”

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