Page 155 of Risky Obsession

A man with wavy blond hair and a trimmed beard appeared on the side of the yacht. He waved at me, then sprinted away.

“Oh, thank god.” My breaths were like rusty nails scraping my throat as I stared at the yacht, trying to make my limbs take me forward. My adrenalin had turned my arms and legs to jelly and as I tried to ride the swell, the water just crashed into me.

“Please hurry,” I said as I forced my body to keep moving.

A rubber boat darted out the back of the yacht and as it raced toward me, I prayed the man really was Archer. As I fought to keep my head above the surface, exhaustion gnawed at the edges of my consciousness.

Upon its approach, the boat slowed, and the man leaned over the side with an outstretched arm, ready to catch me.

“Are you Archer?” I croaked, taking his hand.

“Yes. Where’s Kane?” He guided me to the back of the raft and lowered a rope ladder.

As he helped me climb up, I said, “Kane’s in trouble. He’s trapped underwater in a submerged bunker and is breathing through a pipe. We need to get him.”

I collapsed in the bottom of the raft.

“Hold on!” he yelled, pointing at a handhold.

As I scrambled to the handle, he revved the engine and raced back to the yacht.

“How long has he been under?” Archer bellowed over the engine noise.

“I don’t know, twenty minutes. Thirty.”

“Fuck.” He leaned forward as if urging the raft to go faster.

My heart pounded furiously and as we approached the yacht, the sun disappeared behind a thick blanket of clouds, casting a veil of darkness over the world that added to my sickening dread.

As he guided the raft to the back of the yacht,Evangeline’s Sister, I explained the shaft I’d climbed out of, and that Kane was about two feet below that.

Archer didn’t waste any time on words. At the rear dive platform, he hooked a rope onto a bracket, leapt onto the yacht, and sprinted up a set of stairs.

I chased after him, and he stopped at double doors centered between two curved sets of stairs. He yanked the doors open, and from inside, he pulled out two scuba tanks and other diving apparatus.

“What’s going on?” A gorgeous woman with olive skin and long dark hair sprinted toward us, her warm brown eyes filled with worry.

“Kane’s trapped underwater,” I said. “We need to save him.”

“Grab the gear,” Archer yelled as he marched away, carrying two scuba tanks.

“I’m Rosalina.” The woman pulled a band from her wrist and tugged her hair into a ponytail.

“Lacey,” I said as I scooped the equipment Archer had removed into my arms.

“Here, take this.” She added more diving equipment into my arms, then she tugged out another tank.

Archer sprinted back to us.

“What are you doing?” He glared at Rosalina.

“Coming with you.”

Archer didn’t argue. Instead, he took the tank from her and ran back to the rubber boat.

We clambered into the raft with all the gear, and as Archer drove toward the cliffs, dread gripped me.

What if we’re too late?