strength. Her arms reached for him, clung to him. She gulped down air. Gasped. Coughed. “I’m okay.”
Beneath the surface, his legs were moving, treading water and keeping them both afloat. Holding her with one arm, he pulled her toward a flat section of wing that floated like a raft on the water. “I want you to get up on this. Lie across it.”
She struggled, fighting the numbness that threatened to overwhelm her. With John’s help, she hauled her torso onto the wing and lay flat.
“Stay there,” he said.
“What are you going to do?”
“Rescue our luggage.”
His arms cut through the waves as he swam toward the tail of the plane that was gradually sinking beneath the waves. She saw Edgar helping him. They had all survived.
The two men swam toward her, dragging luggage that they threw onto the wing beside her. They aimed the section of wing toward the shore and began to kick.
“That was one hell of a belly flop,” John said.
“Quite spectacular,” Edgar agreed.
“We skipped across the water like a flat stone. Wish I had it on film.”
“Indeed.”
They were both laughing and grinning like idiots. She’d seen this reaction before when she was a police officer. Relief after intense danger affected different people in different ways. Some collapsed in shock. Some wept. Others screamed. Still others, like John and Edgar, made jokes and slapped each other on the back.
Edgar glanced over his shoulder. “I rather wish I could have saved the painting of Martina. She was quite a wonderful woman. I’ve lost her four times.”
“How?” Lily asked. Her voice was a hoarse croak.
“Once in real life. Twice before in plane crashes. This will be the fourth.”
Lily wasn’t sure she’d heard correctly. “You’ve crashed three times?”
“Once on land in Costa Rica. That was bad. Almost lost my leg.” He took a breath. “Once on water near the Florida Keys. Now this.” Another breath. “I’m getting rather good at crash landing.”
“Lucky for us,” John said.
“Luck?” Edgar’s voice struck a high, disbelieving note. “This crash had nothing to do with chance, dear boy.”
“How so?”
“We were sabotaged,” Edgar said. “We were meant to die.”
Chapter Two
When they were close to shore, Lily slid off the section of wing into a rolling surf. She staggered toward the deserted beach that wasn’t nearly as pretty as it had seemed from a distance. A thin strip of whitish-gray sand covered a jagged, rocky shoreline littered with bits of shell, rock and sharp coral from the nearby reefs. Untamed tropical forest reached almost to the edge of the water.
Not paradise, but she wasn’t complaining. She was thankful to be on dry land, to still be alive. The crusty sand crunched beneath her feet as she staggered toward a thick log that had washed ashore, and she sat on it. Holding her head in her hands, she closed her eyes and exhaled a deep breath. Apart from an ache in her left shoulder and a ringing in her ears, she was physically okay. Her mental state was a whole different matter.
Behind her eyelids, she replayed the terror of sinking into the ocean, helpless to react, trapped in death’s cold embrace. Never before had she felt so close to her own mortality. Shake it off.
She couldn’t appear devastated. And definitely couldn’t whine. Being chosen to accompany John to Cuerva represented a major upgrade in her work at PPS. She’d been given a chance to prove herself and didn’t want to mess it up.
Opening her eyes, she saw him striding toward her with a bottled water in each hand. His black knit shirt outlined his muscular chest and broad shoulders. His wet khaki trousers clung to his thighs. He usually wore a suit in the office. This water-logged outfit was a whole lot better…sexier. Without even trying, John Pinto was hot. When he’d kissed her on the mouth at the Kingston airport? Wow! Her fingers reached up to touch her lips. Not even a plane crash could erase the memory of that kiss.
He squatted in front of her and held out the bottled water. “You’re probably dehydrated.”
“I almost drowned.” But she knew what he meant, and the water tasted good going down. “Where did you get this?”
“I always have a couple bottles in my carry-on. Just in case.”
“Always thinking ahead.”
“Let’s check you out.” Holding her face in his large hands, he peered into her eyes. “Look to the right. Then the left.”
She glanced both ways. “Like this?”
“Very good. Now look directly at me.”
She focused on his deep-set dark brown eyes above high cheekbones and a strong, straight nose. God, he was handsome. Gratitude welled up inside her. This man—this incredibly brave, good-looking man—had saved her life. If he hadn’t pulled her out of the water when she was sinking, Lily wouldn’t have made it.
As she was about to thank him, his fingers probed the sore spot behind her temple and she reacted. “Ow. Am I bleeding? Will I need stitches?”
“The skin isn’t broken, but you’re going to have a hell of a lump.”
His low baritone struck exactly the right note of gentle concern. He had a bedside manner that her parents—both doctors—would have applauded. “You know, John, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate—”
“Have you ever had a concussion before?”
“I’ve knocked my head a couple of times but never completely lost consciousness. I must have a thick skull.”
“Must have.” He sat back on his heels and grinned. “You’re tough for such a little thing.”
A little thing? She swallowed the “thank you” that poised on the tip of her tongue. Her size had always been an issue for her. When she was a cop, half the guys in her precinct had called her Tinkerbell behind her back.
He touched the tender spot again, and she pushed his hands away. “Stop it.”
“I know something about head injuries.”
“If it’s all the same to you, I’ll wait for a real doctor.”
She should have been kissing his feet and showering him with praise for rescuing her. Instead, she was irritated. Though he was great to look at, there was something about him that brought out the worst in her.
Masculine arrogance, she thought. In any given situation, he had to be the alpha dog, the leader of the pack. And she had never been a docile follower; she hated being told what to do.
However,
