Page 37 of Tides of Change (Seacliff Cove #2)

I turned my gaze to the sea cave and my stomach wrenched. The water was already waist high, waves crashing violently against the rocks, surging deeper into the cave’s entrance. If Ethan was in there?—

I ran.

The first step into the water stole my breath. Frigid. Ruthless. The undertow nearly yanked my feet out from under me, but I powered through. The closer I got to the cave, the deeper the water became, dragging at me like unseen hands.

But I didn’t stop. Ethan was in there. Trapped.

A wave slammed into me, shoving me back. I caught myself against a jagged rock, ignoring the sting of torn flesh, ignoring the exhaustion burning in my limbs.

I pushed forward.

Darkness yawned before me. The cave.

I plunged into the mouth of it, chest heaving, muscles screaming.

“Ethan!” I roared, but my voice was lost in the storm.

Nothing.

I fought against the waves, forcing my way deeper. He had to be there. He had to be alive.

The water was higher out here on the promontory, swirling and churning inside the sea cave, the tide creeping ever upward. Chest-high. Every second mattered. The icy waves slapped against my torso, the current threatening to pull me off balance as I fought forward.

I yanked my flashlight from my tactical vest and flicked it on; the beam sliced through the cavernous dark. My breath caught. Ethan.

He was at the back of the cave, before it narrowed, struggling against bonds. Water lapped at his chest, and his movements were sluggish from the cold. Duct tape gagged his mouth, but his eyes met mine. Relief flashed in them, but worry drowned it out.

“I’ve got you.” I pushed through the water with renewed urgency. It wasn’t fast enough. The tide rushed in with every wave, higher, colder, stealing precious time. Ethan needed to be out of here hours ago.

I reached him with my heart slamming against my ribs. I cupped the side of his face for half a second—just to ground myself, just to confirm he was real and alive.

“This is gonna hurt.” I gripped the duct tape covering his mouth. “I’m sorry.” With a sharp yank, I tore it off.

Ethan sucked in a ragged gasp and winced. “Garrett,” he rasped, shivering violently. “You have to go. He—he chained me to a buried anchor. You can’t?—”

My blood turned to ice. Chained.

He shook his head, desperation in his voice. “Please. Think of Noah. Get out while you can.” The water licked at his shoulders.

“Baby,” I said, voice low and firm, my hands gripping his trembling shoulders. “I’m not leaving you. We’re getting out together.”

I radioed Nate. “I need bolt cutters and a bus. Yesterday. Ethan’s chained to an anchor. Tide’s coming in fast.”

Static. Were we too deep in the cave for a signal? I held my breath and tried to not panic.

Relief poured through me at Nate’s voice. “On my way. Hold on, Garrett.”

I turned back to Ethan, every instinct screaming at me to move faster. I pulled my multi-tool from my vest and slashed through the zip ties binding his wrists. He sagged against me, exhausted, his skin too pale, his lips tinged blue. Symptoms of hypothermia and concussion.

I held him close and rubbed his arms, trying to transfer warmth, trying to anchor him in the rising tide.

“Stay with me,” I murmured. “I need you to hold on.”

Ethan’s fingers curled into my slicker. “Trying,” he whispered, voice thready.

The wait for the bolt cutters stretched into eternity. The water was up to my chin, my grip on Ethan tightening as the tide dragged at us, its pull insidious, relentless. The cave was a tomb waiting to happen.

A flashlight cut through the dim light.

“Garrett!” Nate struggled toward us, holding the bolt cutters above his head. “Here!”

I seized the cutters and dove under. Salt water burned my eyes, stung my skin, and chilled me to the bone. I fumbled with the chain, my fingers numb, my lungs burning.

One cut. The metal groaned but didn’t give.

I adjusted my grip. Another cut.

The chain snapped.

I quickly cut the zip ties around his ankles, rose, and gasped for breath. “I’ve got you, baby. Let’s go.”

The three of us fought our way through the roaring waves, the current trying to suck us back into the cave. I held Ethan against my side, my legs burning as I forced us forward, step by step.

A wave crashed over us, knocking us under. Blackness. Cold. Salt filling my nose.

I surfaced and dragged a coughing, sputtering Ethan with me.

“Almost there!” Holt was waiting at the shore, arms outstretched. The paramedics were just behind him, blankets ready.

One last push. One last struggle.

Finally, we broke free of the ocean’s grasp.

I collapsed to my knees, Ethan still in my arms. His body shuddered violently, lips quivering, but he was breathing. Alive.

I cradled his face and pressed a kiss to his cold lips, not caring about our audience. “You’re safe. You’re okay.”

A paramedic crouched beside us. “Let’s get him warmed up. You too, Deputy. You’re half-frozen.”

I let them bundle him in a first-aid blanket, but I kept his hand in mine. I refused to let go, even when they wrapped me in my own blanket.

I’d almost lost him. Almost.

But I hadn’t. I squeezed his hand, and he weakly squeezed mine. “Let’s get you to the ambulance.”

We’d caught Finch and rescued Ethan, but Ethan wasn’t out of the woods yet.