Page 1 of Joel (Guardians of the North #6)

KYLIE

I watch in defeat as the last of my rented boat’s bow disappears into the vast water, sinking into the depths of the Bering Sea. I barely had time to toss my most valuable possessions into the life raft and jump ship before she went under.

Todd is going to be pissed.

But it’s his fucking fault I’m in this mess.

“Should have sprung for the more expensive boat, Todd .”

The last place I want to be is in the middle of nowhere Alaska, searching for pirate treasure in such cold fucking water. My dry suit and layers of clothing beneath it made the dive bearable, but that doesn’t keep me from shivering now on the open sea.

It’s summer in North Haven.

But out here on the Bering Sea, several miles from the small town I can barely see in the distance, it’s frigid.

“One last treasure hunt,” I say through chattering teeth as I unzip my breast pocket and pull out the gold coin I retrieved.

It’s only by sheer dumb luck that the wreckage of The Esmerelda landed on a guyot or I wouldn’t have gotten close enough to collect tangible proof.

It makes me wonder how no one has located it before me.

I twirl my prize through my fingers, admiring my discovery. The sun catches the shiny coin, the golden reflection magical. It has pirate gold written all over it. This special coin is not only proof that the legendary treasure is real—it’s my ticket to freedom.

I’ve been paying off my debt to my stepfather one dive at a time for the past five years—and this one, should it go well, will be my last.

When Todd first taught me to scuba dive, I fell in love with it. When he invited me on my first treasure hunt, I was over the moon. But what started out as an exciting adventure quickly turned dark when I uncovered the truth about his business and his less than honorable motives.

Too bad I’d already borrowed fifty thousand dollars for college before I discovered his true colors. It’s no wonder Mom divorced him. No wonder she still doesn’t talk to me now.

I tug down the zipper of my dry suit and tuck the coin into the pocket of my lined leggings for safe keeping. With my luck lately, I’d fumble it right back into the icy water. Even if I had any oxygen left in my tank, I’m not diving back down there today.

Retrieving my phone from my waterproof bag, I’m not surprised by the no signal icon in the top corner.

It’s the same as it was a mile and a half out from the coordinates Todd gave me. He’s probably pacing like a mad man in his expensive ocean-view office, all the way on the other side of the country in Florida, waiting to hear from me.

For a beat, I consider dropping my phone into the deep water and saying fuck it. But that reckless desire has consequences I don’t want to wrestle with. Not today.

Instead, my gaze drifts toward the distant shore. I let out a sigh, contemplating how I’m getting back to North Haven without a paddle.

Just as I’m about to zip up my dry suit and jump back into the freezing water to drag the raft behind me and begin a long, tedious swim to shore, the faint roar of an engine catches my attention. Considering I’m surrounded by endless water, I lift my head to the sky to seek out the source.

A helicopter!

“I’m fucking saved!”

I scramble through my waterproof bag, looking for something metal that’ll reflect the sunlight—anything but my coin—and find a compact mirror instead. Just as I open it to signal for help, the helicopter makes a sharp turn, showcasing its side. The white and orange markings are unmistakable.

“Fuck,” I mutter.

My heart pounds, and suddenly I’m not cold anymore. I’m sweating.

It’s the Coast Guard.

Who the hell called the Coast Guard on me?

Other than Todd, no one knows I’m here. Okay, only Todd knows why I’m here.

But I’m not due back with the boat rental for another three hours.

And from this far from town, there’s no way that crotchety old man was able to watch his piece of shit skiff sink.

So if he didn’t call the Coast Guard, who did?

I pray the helicopter crew is too far away to witness me drop the scuba gear over the side of the raft.

But the last thing I want to do is explain to the military why I was out here diving all alone—near a very illegal treasure site.

It might give them cause to go through my bag, and I can’t have that.

If I botch this, Todd will never let me leave.

Funny how that thought is worse than the possibility of going to jail.

I expect an announcement over some loudspeaker when the helicopter hovers nearby, but I suppose I wouldn’t be able to hear it over the noise of the rotor blades anyway.

So I kick back in my raft, crossing my feet at my ankles, and watch as one of the men in a bright orange jump suit is attached to a cable and lowered into the water.

After a splash, I hear, “Rescue swimmer in the water!”

Is that supposed to be comforting?

I suppose in any other set of circumstances—where I was abiding by the law, for instance—I would feel reassured by that announcement.

I would feel saved from a desperate situation.

But I am anything but a goddamn damsel in distress.

True as that may be, I’m also not above accepting a lift back to shore.

I glance at the waterproof bag filled with my most valuable possessions and a hefty amount of damning evidence, and yank it into my lap. I hug it to my chest, hoping like hell the coastguardsman won’t try to make me leave it behind.

“Ma’am, are you injured?” I hear as he swims closer.

There’s a twinge of guilt that someone else has to get into the cold water to save me, but it’s short lived when two arms prop themselves on the side of my raft. Eyes bluer than the sea on this crystal clear day stare up at me. Fuck me, those eyes are dangerous.

“Ma’am?”

“The only thing injured is my pride,” I admit, my throat suddenly dry.

The military man lifts one corner of his mouth in a smile, and dammit if butterflies don’t instantly erupt in my belly. Not the fucking time . The only thing stupider than putting myself in a position to be rescued by the Coast Guard would be sleeping with one of them.

“Good.” His smile grows, showcasing its potency.

Fuck me, I really want to fuck him. A man I just met ten seconds ago. Good God , down girl!

“Good?” I repeat, trying like hell not to stare into those eyes.

It’s probably just exhaustion clouding my judgment, but I’m not in a position to take that risk.

Not if I want to keep Todd off my case and my ass out of jail.

Or would they put me in a military prison? “I hardly see why this is good.”

“You’d rather have a broken leg or punctured lung?”

His tone makes me smile, despite my best efforts to fight the impulse. “Well, when you put it that way.”

“Ma’am, I have a perfectly good helicopter waiting.” He points up. “Can I offer you a lift?”