Page 24 of Anchor (First to Fight)
“Oh, thank God,” I whisper. For a tense second, I thought he was dead, too. I don’t dare move him, but I move to his side, unsure of what to do to help him. “Gabe?” I whisper.
My hands run along his face as he fights unconsciousness, memorizing the features I was too frightened to pay attention to the first time I saw him. My fingers map the defined line of his square jaw covered in thick, raspy stubble. They travel over his chapped lips and hollow cheeks to his heavy brow and closed lids. Beneath my fingertips his eyes flutter and I have to wipe away a tear as it streaks from my own. His hair is still damp from the ocean and I frown when my hands come away soaked in red.
With a yelp, I take off my cardigan and hold it up to his forehead to soak up the blood oozing from the gash. I flash to the memory of the girl falling not minutes before and I’m overcome with a mindless panic. I can’t be here alone. He can’t leave me here alone. I’ll be okay as long as he’s here.
“Gabe?” His name breaks as a sob nearly tears its way out of my throat.
My eyes flutter closed when he stops groaning. I duck my head, my chin pressing into my chest. The world around me, blockaded behind the numbing effect of adrenaline, comes rushing back, filling my ears with the sound of screams from everyone downstairs, the orders from the sheriff’s on the boat, and the stunning silence from Gabe.
I have no illusions about making it off this boat alive. I know the chances are slim, and grow even more desolate with each passing moment and execution, but those odds are easier to face when I have someone to lean on.
A bracing wind helps to clear my thoughts and my eyes snap open to find his staring back at me. Warmth floods my chest and I launch myself at him, not thinking about my arm. He catches me and I whimper as my hand comes in contact with the floor.
With a groan he sits up, still holding me. His warmth combats the chill and I look up, startled to find myself sitting on his lap, surrounded by his arms. The cardigan flutters to my lap and I retrieve it to press against his wound.
He winces and then his hands are on me. They trace my legs and my breath strangles in my throat at his touch. I don’t catch it until his fingers probe the tender swollen mass of my wrist. “Are you okay?” He winces and cradles his head, his hands fumbling around mine on the makeshift bandage. “Shit. This wasn’t how I planned to spend this weekend.”
“Yeah, me neither.” He starts to stand, but I stop him with a hand on his arm. “Wait, let’s make sure your head isn’t still bleeding.”
He humors me while I dab at his wound until the flow of blood slows to a trickle. “Diagnosis?”
The cardigan is ruined, nearly soaked through with red, so I toss it under the dash. “I think you’ll live.”
He eases me off his lap and then gets to his feet. He holds out a hand and I take it. “How’s your arm?”
“Hurts like hell, but I’ll be okay.”
“Whatever happens next just follow my lead, okay?”
I don’t have time to answer because Jones reappears with an armful of collars dangling from his wrist. He nods to the boat, spotlights still trained on us. “Make the trade,” he says.
Gabriel
“Didn’tI tell you not to get yourself dead?”
“I’m not dead yet,” I tell Tyler over the radio. “Good news, though. Have them move the boat to the back. Jones is gonna let the rest of the hostages off.”
“How the hell did you manage that?”
I ignore the question and say, “He took off the explosives so Stevens needs to move his ass before this guy changes his mind.”
“They’ve deployed boats to remove the hostages. You stay there and keep your man calm while we direct them off the ferry.”
“I’ll do what I can.” My voice low, I add, “And see if there is anything you can find about former customers I’ve had or rescue operations involving anyone named Jones. Maybe someone I dealt with during my time in the Corps. I don’t know what the hell this sonofabitch wanted with Emily, Ty, but we need to find out. And as soon as you can.”
“Jones,” Tyler repeats back. “I’m on it, Gabe. I promise.”
“How are things on the mainland?”
“Smooth as they can be. Will you and your lady friend be ready to move if our friends over here rock the boat?”
I hiss out a string of curses, but don’t let my body language communicate anything. “Jesus Christ, Ty, are youtryingto get me killed.”
“Starting to think you’re like a cat, Rossi. I’m sure you’ve got a couple lives left to spare.”
“Try not to use them all in one go,” I tell him.
After I hang the radio back on the hook, I press my lips into a line and turn to face him. Chloe stands between us, her whole body trembling. I catch her gaze with my own and communicate my concern with a twitch of my brows. She frowns for a second and then she nods. With my hands loose, unassuming and unthreatening by my sides, I take a tentative step toward them both.