Page 53 of Boomer (SEAL Team Tier 1, #7)

He hit the water hard and dove deep, the current clawing at him. The cold punched his lungs, stole his breath. He choked down the instinct to gasp, focused on one thing.

That fucking beautiful reason for him to live.

Frantic, he swam toward the surface with powerful strokes. When he surfaced, the hull of the Gaspard towered to his right, the mass of the luxury yacht looming near him. At least the vessel had been stationary, but the pitch dark made it all very difficult to see.

“Get a searchlight on that water!” Iceman shouted.

He looked around, his eyes scanning the sea.

A light blinked on, and he spotted her a short distance from him and started to swim powerfully toward her.

With the kind of flailing she was doing, she would exhaust herself in no time and then drown.

She was weighted down, dazed by the blows to her head. It was a miracle she wasn’t fully out.

She spotted him. “Carter!” Her voice was weak. Her eyes wide and frantic. He tore through the waves, lungs burning, salt in his eyes, his throat, his mind. His breacher brain kicked in, organizing chaos into function. Stay calm. Stay clear. If he lost it, she’d die.

“Carter,” she called, weaker, sputtering, her thrashing growing weaker until she slipped out of his sight.

“Taylor!”

But the surface was calm without a ripple. When he reached the spot where she went down, he dove, scanning. He saw her sinking below him. He kicked hard, his legs pumping powerfully as he closed in on her.

She was limp, weighted, her gear dragging her deeper.

Her hair fanned like seaweed. Her eyes were closed.

Adrenaline drop loaded into his system, and he increased his descent.

He reached for her, snagged the top of her tactical vest. Latching on, he swam for the surface, dragging her dead weight with him, his hand tight as death, muscles flexing.

His heart beat hard, not in exertion, but for her.

He treaded water as he hauled her up and dragged her toward him.

Before he could strip her vest, she gasped, awake, disoriented, panicked. She clawed at him, arms locked around his neck in a death grip, cutting off his air. Water filled his nose, his mouth. She was trying to climb him like a life raft, thrashing, wild, drowning them both.

So, he did the only thing he could. He dove again, dragging her down with him.

Beneath the surface, he seized her flailing arms and shook her. Her eyes flew open. Terrified.

Look at me.

He pulled her close, held her there until her eyes locked with his.

He let her see it, all of it. Calm. Focus.

Trust. She stilled. He stripped off her vest, then brought them both to the surface.

“Hold on to me,” he said softly. “Just rest. I’ve got you.

” This time, her arms circled him with purpose and trust.“It’s okay, angel, I’ve got you. You’re safe.”

She clung to him, her chest heaving with her exertion, her terror, and the emotional turmoil that was twisting them both up inside, eating up valuable resources. Waves lapped around them but were calm and the wind steady.

“Carter,” she whispered, her teeth chattering from adrenaline, cold, and fear.

He clutched her tighter. “I’ve got you, Red.”

Then, a motor. Over the rhythm of crashing waves, a searchlight carved through the dark. A dinghy skimmed the chop, spotlight slicing wide.

She sighed. Just once. Then stilled.

The boat closed fast, and someone splashed in beside them.

“Hey big man,” Breakneck called, treading water. “You need a lift?”

Boomer turned, breathless and grateful. “You’re lucky my hands are full right now, kid.”

Inside the dinghy, he removed his helmet as Break covered Taylor with a blanket. She lay spent in his arms and Hazard gunned the engine.

He stared down into her face, taking in all that delicate beauty, the ugly bruises starting to form on her temple and jaw. Her chest expanded. “The German judge gives you all the points for that swan dive after me.”

Break chuckled softly, nudging Hazard, who barked out a laugh. “Five point nine for me. He didn’t point his toes.”

Taylor sputtered and Boomer murmured, “Don’t encourage him, Red.” Then his eyes flicked up to a very unconcerned Breakneck. “I’m going to kick your ass, you freaking pain.”

“Oh, leave him be. He brought a boat and a blanket,” she whispered.

Boomer stilled at the softness in her voice.

The thought of losing her made him weak.

He turned his face into the silky wet tangle of her hair, his arms tightening around her torso, the wrench of emotion so profound that he felt as if something huge had opened up inside him.

It took a bit of time before he could ease his crushing hold, the fullness in his chest almost more than he could handle. Breakneck and Hazard had turned away, watching the approach toward the Gaspard where the chopper hovered.

Taylor clutched him, abruptly turning her face against his neck. “I knew you’d come for me.”

“Always,” he whispered back. Her throat worked and with all the gentleness he could muster, he lifted her head so he could see her face.

In her blue eyes was a heart-wrenching vulnerability mixed in with her raw emotion, and that glimmer of steel.

He lowered his head and kissed her, closing his eyes when she opened her mouth and responded.

Boomer put all the tenderness, all the caring he felt for her into that slow, languid kiss, and finally the tension in her body eased, and she relaxed in his arms. Releasing an uneven sigh, Boomer slowly withdrew, watching her come out of the sensation that kiss aroused, her lips moist and parted.

“So far that’s been the best part of this interdiction.”

He grinned at her as the dinghy hit the edge of the Gaspard’s diving deck. Kodiak was there and he whisked her away to flash light in her eyes, and attend to her cuts, but all the while he was working on her, she never took her eyes off him.

Boomer paced. Kodiak continued to monitor Taylor. He wasn’t sure if it was because she reminded him of Kaiya, and she did—tough, resourceful, hanging on to duty until the end. She’d been worked over in Sydney during their op, and their medic had lost it.

Boomer’s shoulders went tight as murmurs inside shifted into raised voices. Not just tension now. Trouble . The redheaded kind.

The team, still fresh from battle, and SBS guys waited outside.

All of them were subdued after Forge was medevacked home, and their missing teammate hadn’t been found.

When Bash saw Taylor getting off that Black Hawk, he’d rushed over, reaching for her, but Boomer slipped his arm around her, and he backed away.

Once inside, Kodiak continued to hover, but with all of them milling around his patient, he finally pulled her into the debrief room and closed the door.

“Fuck,” Skull said, blinking. “Kodiak’s yelling.”

Hazard tilted his head, listening. “He never yells.”

Iceman didn’t knock. He pushed the door open like a sledgehammer. “What the hell is going on in here?”

It was as if neither Taylor nor Kodiak heard him.

“You will sit your ass down and rest.” Kodiak’s shoulders were tight as hell, his voice even tighter. He glanced at Boomer, tense and refusing to give in.

Taylor’s Nordic blue eyes were hard and cold. “I have a mission to run. Get out of my way.”

She went to rise, and he gently pushed on her shoulder to keep her in the chair. “You’re not going anywhere. I don’t care if the Queen of England needs your assistance.”

“Mate…” All heads turned. Bash stood just inside the doorway. “Ah…the queen died. May she rest in peace.”

“Then the king. The crown. The horses. The whole goddamn roundtable.Doesn’t matter one iota. You’re not leaving.”

Her jaw clenched, the muscles flexing. “You don’t have authority over me.”

Kodiak squared up, the medic they all trusted without question, now absolutely done.

He stepped in. She had to tilt her head to meet his eyes.

“You scared the hell out of us. We didn’t like it.

” He choked out. “Now you want to go running into battle, compromised .” His voice dropped, but the fury in it crackled.

“You fucking have a concussion. End of story.” She rose, and Kodiak smirked in all the wrong ways.

“Sweetheart. You can try to go through me. Good luck with that.”

Taylor looked at him, “Boomer. Talk some sense into him.”

Boomer folded his arms. “No. He’s absolutely right.”

She bristled. “What?” Then her eyes fluttered, and she touched her temple. She wobbled, and every man in the room lunged toward her, but Boomer got there first. He caught her against him. Looking at Kodiak, he said, “I’ve got this.”

“She needs to rest and stay here. If she insists on running this op, it’s still not ideal, but it is the best option.”

“I’ll talk to her.”

Taylor wasn’t rational. He’d had a concussion before and remembered what it was like to feel disoriented, embarrassed, and angry to be taken out of the fight.

He bent down, clasped her legs, and hauled her into his arms. He would make this decision for her, step over a line he hadn’t crossed with her.

No permission, just concern. It trumped everything else.

When her feet left the ground, she sputtered. “Oh, my Gott . Put me down. I can walk.”

“Taylor,” he said, voice low and raw. “Shut that beautiful mouth…before I lose the last bit of control I’ve got left.” Then he carried her out of the room and down the hall to her quarters. He opened the door and swung her inside.

When he closed the door, she struggled, kicked, and demanded to be put down, but he clutched her tighter and walked to the bed, then settled her on it. She tried to get up, but he set his hand in the middle of her chest.

“Darlin’ please,” he whispered. “I don’t have the control right now to handle this. I had to watch you be injured, then thrown overboard. You are my heart. Please, just relax.”