All Tied Up

He didn’t answer. She wasn’t even sure he heard her. Already, he was diving over the side of the boat. She faced the sobbing woman and asked, “Do you have a phone? Have you called 911?”

“No, yes, I…have a phone.”

“Use it! Call! Call now! And go get help.” Nicole ran to the ledge to check for a ladder. Thankfully, the woman had, indeed, extended a rope ladder over the side.

Preparing to help if needed, she dropped Constantine’s gun and holster next to the bag that he’d left on the deck. She returned to the railing, gulping water as rain slammed into her face. Coughing, she swiped at her eyes, desperately searching for Constantine. The minute she spotted him swimming through the salty turbulence, she breathed a bit easier. He was moving; he was visible. And yes! He had the drowning man in his grasp. She watched as he swam toward them, pulling the man with him through the powerful waves.

How long Nicole stood there, terrified for Constantine, watching him struggle, she didn’t know, but it felt like a lifetime before he finally arrived at the edge of the boat, the man still in his grip. Thankfully, the woman showed up with help. Nicole turned to find two men wearing uniforms of some sort—beach patrol, she thought.

The two men started to lift the drowning man from the water, which meant Constantine could follow. With the woman’s husband safely on board, stretched out and unconscious, one of the patrolmen dropped to his knees and appeared ready to start CPR. The other cop was leaning over the side of the boat trying to help Constantine.

Nicole ran to the edge, fearful, wondering why Constantine hadn’t shown himself. Her heart felt as if it would explode at what she saw. Somehow, Constantine had been swept away from the boat by the rough waters. She watched as he grabbed the life preserver, and she let out a sigh of relief.

She turned to check on everyone else, only to find an order barked in her direction. “Go flag the ambulance!” The shout came from the man doing CPR. Nicole blinked. Was he talking to her? She glanced at the wife, who was crumpled to the ground next to her unmoving husband. Nicole’s gaze flickered to the victim; his face appeared somewhat bluish and she understood why the woman was crying. Her husband was dying. Nicole had to do something.

She started running, or rather stumbling, across the deck toward the dock. Her heart jackknifed in her chest. Constantine would not like what she was doing. She didn’t like it herself. Carlos was coming. She jumped off the boat to the wooden walkway, landing on her feet, and then darted toward the parking lot. Her mind went back to the silent threat. Carlos. Coming soon. How much time had passed? Thirty minutes? Forty?

It didn’t matter, she told herself. She had to do this. But fear gripped her as she had the thought; she realized she was creating more danger for these people. Everyone on that boat was in danger—they’d be in danger because they were near her and Constantine.

She should turn back. A dim eeriness had claimed what was daylight only an hour before, which added to the growing unease rattling her nerves. By the time she’d made it to the parking lot, she was nervous, and had convinced herself she’d made the wrong move. About to abandon her efforts, she was waylaid by flashing red lights that blasted through the haze of the storm.

Charging toward the ambulance, determined to get their attention and get back to the boat, Nicole felt hope form that all of this would work out. After all, the ambulance was here. That was something. She clung to that little bit of good news.

The emergency crew, which consisted of two men, pulled to a stop beside her and she directed them where to go. And then she took off running toward the boat, not allowing them time to respond, ignoring their shouts behind her.

Hope filled her. She’d pulled off helping that man without getting herself killed. Hope that quickly faded as she found a man standing in front of the walkway that led to the docks. Stocky, with an air of menace clinging to him. Nicole had no doubt who she faced. Carlos.

Chapter Sixteen

NICOLE’S SURVIVAL INSTINCTS kicked in at the sight of Carlos in her path. She turned and cut a sharp left off the path she was on, and started running toward the car from another angle—leading Carlos away from the un-suspecting emergency crew, fearful for their safety. A gunshot sounded behind her, a blast that cut through the fierceness of the wind with a vicious roar. Nicole nearly jumped out of her skin, cringing in preparation for pain that never came. Somehow she kept running. Another shot was fired. No, two. Two shots.