over the side.
“No!” Lily screamed as she leapt across the deck. Kicking off her sneakers, she bounded onto the bench and leapt over the rail, diving into the Mediterranean water. A moment later she rose and looked frantically about. The sea was fairly calm, but they’d been cutting through the water at a good clip, and had no doubt passed the spot where the soldier had gone overboard.
Spotting something white—his T-shirt, perhaps—she kicked her legs out and swam toward it, just as her mother’s screams carried through the air, and a life preserver flew past her head, its rope unfurling behind it.
The rope splashed across her just as her right leg kicked down, catching the cord in a tangle. For one terrified instant, she realized it had twined around her leg. Then the dogged progress of the boat through the water pulled the line taught, dragging her backward with it. She tried to scream, to gulp a breath, anything, but the overwhelming force pulled her through the sea, poring water into her nose, her eyes, her mouth.
She tried to reach the rope to untangle it, but the press of the water was far too great for her to fight against. With sinking terror, she realized there was nothing she could do to free herself. The sun had set and the night was dark. Would her parents even be able to see what had happened? Even if they quickly realized they needed to haul her in, by the time they got the boat stopped, she’d likely be drowned.
* * *
Shock rippled through him as he hit the water, snapping him into the full consciousness that had evaded him as he’d tried to pull himself from sleep moments before. Where was he? What had happened? Acting on instinct, he clawed upward for air, and saw the stars twinkling down from the night sky above.
A scream caught his attention, and he saw a woman throw a life preserver. It fell just short of him, and he cleared the distance to it in a couple of strokes. Grabbing hold, he got his head up enough above the water to see.
There were arms in the water.
No, more than arms, there was a woman. Her leg was caught on the rope to his life preserver, and the moving boat hauled her backward through the water, facedown, helpless.
He recognized her brown hair, her pale pink top. He’d glimpsed her before through pain-dulled eyes. It was the woman who’d given him water and made his pain go away!
Pulling on the rope, he hauled her toward him, and looped one arm under her torso. Gently, he lifted her up and shoved the flotation device under her head. He peeled back the long brown hair and found her face just as she gasped a breath and belched up seawater.
“Can you hold the ring?”
She coughed, but clutched the flotation device with white-knuckled fingers.
“Hold tight.” He knew he had to get her leg untangled, or risk her being pulled back under again. Fighting the current created by the moving boat that tugged them relentlessly forward, he pulled himself along the loose length of rope, caught hold of where it had pulled taught, and held it behind her, creating enough slack to allow him to squeeze it back past her heel, and work her foot free.
He dropped her foot and swam back to her head, balancing himself above the life preserver, level with her eyes. “Are you okay?”
She coughed and looked like she was trying to nod.
He peeled back more of the sodden hair that covered her face. She really was beautiful, even half drowned.
Whoever was running the boat had gotten it slowed down considerably, and voices were yelling something, but he couldn’t make out what.
“Here.” He eased the woman onto his shoulder as he held tight to the rope. “I’m going to pull us up.”
She clung to him, her head slumped against his neck, her rattling breath easing as she tightened her grip on his shoulders. “Stairs,” she said, and coughed again. “Stairs—at the stern.”
He didn’t doubt there were stairs at the back of the boat, but he wasn’t about to let go of the rope to go looking for them. The night was too dark, the sea too vast and the boat was still cutting through the water, though more slowly now.
“I’ve got you. Just hold on tight.” Pulling hand-over-hand up the rope, he moved them closer to the boat, until he kicked the hull with his boots and fairly walked up the side, rappelling against the sailboat.
The woman clutched him tighter as they rose out of the water and the ship tipped slightly from their combined weight.
“Can you climb aboard?” he asked the woman as he got one hand on the rail.
“No. You first,” she whispered. “If I get onboard, he’ll only push you over again.”
Unsure of whom the woman referred to, he nonetheless heaved one shoulder over the rail.
Hands pulled at the woman in his arms, but she held on to him tightly as he rolled them both over the railing and scrambled to standing on the deck.
“Lily.” An older woman reached for the girl he’d rescued, but she shook her head and shoved him toward a doorway that led down stairs to the lit cabins belowdecks. He obediently headed in the direction he was pushed.
“Lillian.” A man stepped in front of them, barring the way.
“He can have my room.” The waterlogged young woman pleaded, her voice trembling. “Let him be. We can leave him at the next port.”
But the man looked angry, and regarded him with a scowl.
Straightening to his full height, he returned the man’s glare. He couldn’t remember who he was, but he was nearly certain he could take the older man if it came to a fight.
The man must have realized it, too, because he stepped aside, his mouth set in a grim line.
She pushed him ahead of her, down the stairs, and guided him into a comfortable-looking full-size berth and en-suite bathroom.
He spotted a waterproof chair and slumped down on it.
“Lily?” The older woman was at the door again. “What are you thinking, letting that man in your room?”
“He’s too big for the guest room. And this way, he’ll have his own private bathroom.” Lily left the door open a crack and addressed her through the gap. “I’m just going to re-dress his bandages. I’ll move to the guest room for tonight.”
“Fine.” The woman shrank away with a resigned sigh, and Lily closed the door.
He caught his breath as Lily approached him, her movements cautious.
“Do you mind if I remove your bandages?”
“Please.” He sat still as she peeled the soaking wet red-stained gauze from his head.
“I need to run upstairs and get the first-aid kit. I’ll be right back. If you feel light-headed, you can lie down.” She disappeared, and returned quickly with a suitcase-size first-aid kit. Perching on the edge of the bed beside his chair, she gingerly dabbed his face with ointment, her touch gentle.
“Your
