Depths of Salvation (Love on the Edge) (28 page)

Sadie

IT HAD TAKEN
three weeks for the document of preservation to work its way through a set of different signatures, each of which affirmed the salvation of the
Falconer
.

I pushed through the water, my legs propelling me toward the ship I’d fought so hard to save. She came into view, and where once I only had an overwhelming sense of awe when I laid eyes on her, now there was an ache in the center of my chest. The hurt pulsed with each cut of my arms, each roll of my body to reach her structure.

The
Falconer
had practically been my home for the last year, and I didn’t want to leave her. Within her walls is where I’d bonded with Connell, the connection between us growing during her exploration. There were plenty of rooms waiting to be unlocked, an endless amount of artifacts and marine life to catalog, test, and test some more . . . but my work was done.

Sure, I could stay on site and continue to work here. And the offer was beyond tempting. But I couldn’t look at the
Falconer
without seeing Connell.

I reached out and ran my hands against her greenish-exterior, the rough bumps from the corrosion reminding me of Connell’s callused hands. They were worker’s hands—strong, and capable of making me weak in the knees. My heart raced just thinking of the times he’d made me breathless, made me laugh, made me smile.

Then how he’d made hurt, made me cry, made me regret.

I clenched my eyes shut, allowing the sounds of the depth of the ocean—the subtle whooshing of my oxygen, the steady tinkling melody as I moved through the water, the quick rush of a school of tiny fish darting by—to fill the gaping hole in my chest.

He protected you.

I snapped my eyes open, wishing the ocean would mute the little voice in the back of my head that was absolutely
Team Connell.
The vibrant purples, greens, and fire-reds filled my vision, the plants surrounding the ship making its desecrated structure teaming with life.

He broke silence with his mother to save your ship.

I shook my head, focusing on the sixty or so neon-yellow fish that were smaller than my pinky—they looked like they played hide and seek in the purple algae that sprouted in strands along the
Falconer’s
base.

Even if his intentions came from a source of protecting me . . . he could’ve simply talked to me.

Because he’s so good at that.

Damn. I hated it when I argued with myself.

I held on to the ship’s exterior, despite knowing my tank time was almost up. I didn’t want to let her go yet, just as—if I was being honest with myself, and beneath the water I always was—I wasn’t ready to shut the door on Connell, either. I had no idea how to reconnect with him, though, because how did I know what was real and what was part of the deal he’d struck with Slade? How did I really know he’d ever wanted me?

There’s only one way to find out.

I must be insane.

“Boss?” Nemo’s voice over the speaker in my mask made me jump. I whirled around, hand over my heart. “You good?”

“You’re getting stealthier,” I said.

“Or you’re just getting less sharp. Old age and all.” He grinned at my openedmouth stare. “Didn’t want to interrupt, boss, but you’re cutting it close.”

I sighed. “I know. I don’t think there will ever be enough time for me to say goodbye.”

He swam toward me, stopping just close enough to grip my hands. “Then don’t.”

Nemo had decided to stay on with Dr. Cunningham’s—Connell’s mom’s—team. It wasn’t personal, it was completely professional, and with all the prospects this site had just begun to supply, I couldn’t blame him denying my offer to come with me wherever I took the next job.

“There are other sites that will need saving,” I said, slowly swimming past him toward the surface.

“And him, too.”

I stopped my forward progression. “What?”

“Come on, boss. Connell is the human equivalent of a site worth saving.”

I snorted. Is that why our connection was near instantaneous? Why I’d felt compelled to tear back his walls and dig around until I found the prize-worthy center? God, no wonder. If I hadn’t been wearing my mask, I would’ve facepalmed myself.

“You can’t give up,” Nemo continued. “You have fought with every last breath for a site like this, putting your life in danger every single time you entered it, but you won’t even try for someone like him?”

“I—“

“I know what he did. Ryan told me. And I would’ve done the same thing.”

“Excuse me?” I couldn’t believe the words coming out of his mouth.

“If it meant saving you? I’d do anything. Even take on the Trio, but thankfully, you’ve already done that.” He cracked a grin and tears pooled behind my eyes at his loyalty.

“You’re a good kid.”

“I know. Now, what are you going to do?”

I turned around, laying eyes on the
Falconer
one last time. The long, thick strands of purple algae flowed back and forth in the water’s motion as if waving goodbye, and the knife in my chest twisted a little harder.

“Say goodbye.” Nemo’s eyes widened, and he shook his head. “For only a little while,” I continued, darting past him toward the surface. Now that I knew what I needed to do, I no longer wanted to hide in the deep.

“Dr. Cunningham?” I asked, unsure why my voice was barely above a whisper as I walked up to her newly claimed desk in my lab.

“Sadie,” she said, pushing back from the desk and standing. “How’d she look to you now?”

“Good.”

“But?”

“It’s always hard to let sites go.”

“Ah,” she said. “I completely understand that. Though I do often return to some of my favorites.” She stared at me with wide, hazel eyes, and I couldn’t believe I hadn’t made the connection between her and Connell instantly. They were so much alike, in appearance and boldness. If given the time, I’m sure I could come around to really loving her, but I was still unsure about her past, about the hurt she’d caused Connell, that I couldn’t make a sound judgment on anything at the moment.

I swallowed hard, trying to work up the courage to ask her something I had no right to.

“Something on your mind?” she asked when I’d remained silent and staring at her way past the awkward mark.

“Do you know where Connell is?” I blurted out the question, having to force the words past the fear that clogged my throat. If I opened this door between us again, he could just as easily crush me, but like Nemo had said, I couldn’t give up on someone like Connell.

Her eyes brightened before her shoulders sank. “He was really torn up about everything.”

“He wasn’t alone,” I snapped.

“Noted.” She held her hands up in defense. “What he did . . . signing that contract, well, it was downright awful. But his actions afterward should more than make up for it.”

I arched an eyebrow at her.

“Just because I haven’t spoken to my son since . . . well, it doesn’t mean I don’t
know
him inside and out. He believed your life . . . not just your career . . . your
life
was in danger, so he kept up the act. Still, in the end, he couldn’t betray your site, the one thing you love most.”

“I understand that now.” I sighed. “I need to see him. See if what we had was real or just an act.”

Ryan had told me a couple of weeks ago he’d left the island shortly after the meeting with Henrick. Said that he didn’t have any reason to stay. It hurt, but I hadn’t given him one to either.

She nodded, her sharp black hair brushing the edges of her chin. “I’m not certain, but Connell out of a job? He’ll head to the deepest, most dangerous place he can find. Not to work but to—“

“Think,” I cut her off.

She grinned. “Yes.”

“There are at least a dozen places off the top of my head that could give him the dangerous edge he’s craving.” I shook my head, adrenaline filling my veins at the thought of the chase ahead of me.

“I’d start at the closest and then work my way out, heading to the States somewhere in the middle.” She jerked me into a hug, an awkward as hell one at that, and then looked me in the eye. “How far do you think you’re willing to go before you give up?”

She really didn’t know a thing about me. “I never give up.”

The currents in the Atlantic sixty nautical miles from Nantucket were much stronger than those I’d left behind in Nassau. And I didn’t have time to wait and adjust to the massive amount of weight pressing against my body from the force of the currents as I dove as fast as I could—the
Andrea Doria
had been dubbed the “Mount Everest” of shipwrecks, and its resting depth ensured I’d only have about sixteen minutes of proper breathing time before I had to start my ascension again.

Luckily, Connell—or whichever lone diver attempted to do this without a partner—had left a mooring line with strobe lights attached to guide the way both down and back to the small speedboat that had been empty when I’d positioned the one I’d rented next to it. The effect of the flashing lights made my skin tighten and chills race down my spine, the slight funhouse-effect sending my survival instincts into overdrive. I wasn’t used to this kind of dive—dark, an epic degree of dangerous, and just this side of haunting.

I propelled myself downward, forcing myself through the water that was cloudier than the ocean surrounding the
Falconer
, and I silently prayed the diver in question
was
Connell. I’d already been to four diving spots, all rumored for their difficulty levels, but it was when someone told me about the
Doria
—and how many divers’ lives it had claimed—that I’d felt close to finding Connell. Of course, I didn’t have a clue what I’d say to him, or how I would know if he’d be happy or pissed that I’d tracked him down, but the drive to be near him again, feel him again, was too overwhelming to ignore. Maybe I needed closure. Or maybe I just needed him to touch me again.

My pining thoughts ceased as the ship came into view—a glorious, mostly intact ship sprawled out on its side on the ocean floor, the entire upper deck a mangled mess of broken, corroded wood and metal. The area around it wasn’t teeming with marine life—plant and animal—not in the way the
Falconer
had been, and I wondered how the species chose which places to accept as one of their own, claiming it, and which ones to leave cold and barren.

I forced myself to focus, knowing my minutes were precious, and this was no site to get lost in—no matter how badly my body itched to poke around its interior. Too many talented divers had lost their lives that way, losing track of time or getting lost in the structure, and I wasn’t here for the ship. I was here for the diver I could now see moving debris where the bow used to be.

I knew it in the way he moved, the way he hefted a broken piece of pole and discarded it to the side, searching ruthlessly for who knew what.

Connell.

I glanced down at my watch, noting the seconds ticking away. He must have dived just as I pulled up. Though I would’ve been content to watch him explore, I couldn’t waste the air. I could already feel the effects of the unique gas mixture taking their toll on my brain—loose and fuzzy like I’d had a couple rum and OJs—so I clicked the nob on my mask, tuning into his frequency before pressing down the push-to-talk button.