She and Taryn exchanged a worried glance. Daniela didn’t want to startle Elizabeth, who was dangerously close to a sharp drop-off.
“My father committed suicide,” she said, looking over her shoulder. “Brent filmed it.”
Daniela sucked in a sharp breath.
“Well, he filmed part of it. He didn’t actually die that time. No, he hung on for years and years, bragging about how he’d cheated death.” She let out a harsh laugh, shaking her head. “He’d cheated death.”
Taryn frowned at her cryptic words. “What do you mean?”
“He was a shark enthusiast. A thrill seeker. He ran adventure tours in Daytona Beach. People would pay to watch him swim with sharks.”
Daniela’s jaw dropped.
“About fifteen years ago, Brent went on one of his tours. He must have been around eighteen at the time. He filmed the attack.”
“Oh my God,” Taryn murmured.
“My father considered that his shining moment,” she said, raising one fist in a mocking salutation. “He’d survived a shark attack! And he wanted to revel in that dubious glory. But Brent wouldn’t release the footage.”
Daniela inched closer.
“Brent stood by while my father risked his life, and continued filming while the shark took his legs.”
“He couldn’t have helped,” Taryn said. “We all know it’s too dangerous to enter the water during an attack.”
“He shouldn’t have been filming at all!”
“Maybe not,” Taryn said. “But that was a long time ago. Don’t you think he made the right decision, about not releasing the footage? It’s not fair to accuse him of wrong-doing now, because of a past mistake.”
Daniela was surprised by Taryn’s calm assurance. It was exactly what Elizabeth needed. Reason, rather than comfort. “I agree,” Daniela said, putting her hand on Elizabeth’s shoulder. “You should talk to him about it. Work things out.”
Elizabeth flinched, but she didn’t wrench away. “There’s nothing to work out. We don’t have to be friends.”
“Did you know he would be here?” Daniela asked.
“Of course. I thought we could be civil, on the off chance that he recognized me.”
“That wasn’t exactly civil,” Taryn said.
After a significant pause, Elizabeth nodded. “You’re right. I owe him an apology.” With a small grimace, she shook her head. “I’ll have to apologize to Jason, too. And he’s already so damned smug.”
Daniela wanted to continue the conversation, and make sure Elizabeth was really okay, but a light rain began to fall, stinging her cheeks.
“Let’s go in before the path gets slippery,” Taryn recommended.
Hoping the issue would soon be resolved, Daniela started down the path, Taryn and Elizabeth following close behind. She’d feel more relieved once they were inside. The temperature had dropped and the wind had picked up, cutting through her light jacket. Her hands and face were ice cold.
As they rounded the steepest corner, approaching the sheer drop-off into the whirlpool below, she heard a surprised cry behind her.
Taryn stumbled forward, crashing into her back. The flashlight fell from her hands, and Daniela went sprawling, hurtling toward the safety rail. Although she expected a painful impact, the railing gave way with sickening ease.
She experienced a moment of weightlessness, and the bizarre sensation of tumbling through space. She screamed, her arms and legs flailing.
The only thing she hit was water.
Chapter 12
T
he drop from the cliff to the water was less than twenty feet, but the impact was like a punch to the stomach. The shock of the blow immobilized her and the cold robbed her breath.
She plummeted deep underwater, surrounded by a black abyss.
As soon as she stopped sinking, Daniela began to kick frantically, clawing her way back to the surface. But she was hampered by her wet clothing. The pockets of her jacket had filled with water and her boots felt like sandbags. Taking them off wasn’t an option, because they protected her from the cold, and her first priority was getting air.
She fought hard, all the way to the top, and broke through at long last, opening her mouth to gasp. But her lungs refused to expand. Her body felt numb. A powerful wave crashed over her head, covering her in icy darkness.
Disconnectedly, she wondered how long it would take to drown.
Pinpricks of light flashed behind her eyelids and the cold seeped in, permeating the layers of her clothing and chilling her to the bone. If she didn’t get some oxygen on her next try, she would die.
And she’d only been in the water a few seconds.
Refusing to give up, she pumped her legs again, moving her arms in frantic paddling motions. The cold had seized her lungs. She felt disembodied, disoriented. Like she was swimming in slush.
Panicking, she let out a silent scream, struggling her way back up to the surface. This time, when she broke through, she was able to fill her lungs with fresh, clean air. She treaded water frantically, gasping for help.
On the cliffs above her, Elizabeth was calling her name, pointing the beam of the flashlight in her direction.
Another wave surged up, splashing her face. Daniela choked and sputtered, tasting salt. “Sean!” she yelled, her voice hoarse with emotion. Never mind that he wasn’t within hearing range; his was the name that leaped to her lips.
“Hang on, Daniela,” Elizabeth called out. “Taryn ran to get help. Stay with me!”
Powerful currents tugged her every which way, smashing her into the rocks, scraping her along the jagged edges. Swimming against the flow was impossible, and there was nowhere to haul herself out. She needed to get a grip on something, anything. And she had to do it quick, because she couldn’t keep her head above water much longer. Already, her muscles were like jelly.
“There,” Elizabeth shouted, shining the beam of light on a section of wet, slippery rock. “Grab on right there, Daniela!”
The surface was perforated with holes, large and small. With her last ounce of strength, Daniela swam for it, straining toward the light. A wave brought her the last few feet, slamming her face so hard she saw stars.
Grimacing, she found a handhold in the rock and clung to it, hanging on for dear life.
Time went by and her arms lost their feeling. She lost count of the number of waves that washed over her. Fear of sharks kept her there, gripping the slippery rocks. It wasn’t as though they were sleeping right now, taking a break from hunting. If she let go and was swept out into the open water, she would be eaten alive.
“Sean,” she whispered, pressing her cheek to the wet rock, as if its chiseled surface were his stubbled jaw.
“Daniela!”
It was him; she knew it was him. But her eyelids were too heavy to lift, her limbs too weak to hold her up.
Something soft and rubbery hit the back of her head, rousing her.
“Grab the ring,” he ordered. “Damn it, Daniela! Grab the ring or I’m going to come in after you.”
She opened her eyes with a low moan, looking behind her. There was a U-shaped flotation device on a heavy white rope, ready to pull her to safety. If she could pry her hands off the rock, she would reach for it. But her arms trembled in protest, refusing to cooperate.
“Grab the ring, Daniela. Do it now!”
In a far corner of her mind, she knew he couldn’t come in after her. Although he was an excellent swimmer, the situation was far too dangerous. She doubted he’d be able to grab her, and he’d have just as much trouble getting out afterward. His weight would be twice as difficult for the others to handle on the safety pull.
Her own death seemed like a vague notion, frightening but fuzzy. The idea of Sean drowning for her, splitting his head open on the jagged rocks…
She let go with one hand, her arm stretching out, numb fingers seeking the rubber ring. The next wave washed her away from the rock, but she managed to hook her arm through the safety ring. Rather than relying on her feeble grip, she tugged the lifesaver over her head, securing it under both arms.
The task was Herculean, and her body paid the price for the effort. Before they’d even started pulling her up, another wave swept in, taking her to oblivion.
Sean thought the night of Daniela’s car accident had been the most harrowing of his life. He was wrong. Two years ago, he’d been trapped at Southeast Farallon while she lay in the hospital, close to death. He’d gone out of his mind, worrying about her.
This was worse.
Right now he could
see
her dying, and he felt twice as wretched.
“She’s unconscious,” he said through clenched teeth. Pulling her up the cliff was a tricky job, fraught with danger. At any moment, she could slip through the ring and tumble back into the water. Her life was hanging by a thread.
And he was holding that thread in his hands.
“She’ll be fine,” Jason panted. Although Sean was taking most of the weight, Jason was in the second position, which also required a considerable amount of strength. Either of them could lift Daniela up and throw her over their shoulder with ease, but hauling more than a hundred pounds by rope was more difficult.
Precious seconds ticked by.
Her head lolled back and forth, insensible.
Finally, she was within reach. Sean heaved her up the last few feet, adrenaline fueling his movements. He dragged her lifeless body across the ground and stretched her out, flat on her back, along a safer section of path.
Her face was ashen and her lips were blue. “Breathe,” he commanded, pressing his lips to hers and filling her lungs with oxygen. “Breathe!”
She sputtered, water gurgling from her mouth. Sean turned her on her side, cradling her head in his lap while she retched and retched. Joyous shouts rang out along the cliff side. Hands patted his back as tears of relief ran down his face.
“Thank God,” he murmured, holding her close as she began to shudder uncontrollably. Her skin was like ice. She wasn’t out of the woods yet.
Sweeping her into his arms, he made his way down the path, her small body shaking, her wet clothes soaking his. “Make her a hot drink,” he snarled as soon as they came in the door. “I’m going to warm her up.”
Upstairs, he kicked open the door to the bedroom he shared with Jason, putting her in the only chair. She shivered while he took off her jacket and pulled her top over her head. He knelt to unlace her boots, cursing when the wet laces failed to budge. Taking the knife off his belt, he cut them away.
After getting rid of her boots and socks, he stood her up to strip her pants off. Her panties came down with them, leaving her clad in only a soaked-through bra. The dark circles of her nipples were clearly visible through the transparent fabric. He fumbled with the clasp at her back, trying to ignore the most beautiful breasts in the world when they tumbled free. His towel was hanging on a hook by the door. With trembling hands, he grabbed it, rubbing the terry cloth over her wet hair and pale skin, drying her as best he could.
He unzipped his sleeping bag and put her inside, covering her before he went to work on his own clothes. In less than a minute, he was naked but for a pair of boxer briefs. He kept them on, assuming she’d prefer to have at least one barrier between them.
Jason knocked on the door and stuck his head inside. “This is just hot water,” he said, handing Sean a mug. “The tea is still brewing.”
“Thanks,” he said, taking the mug from Jason and shutting the door behind him. He knelt beside the bed, helping her raise her head to take a sip.
When she’d had enough, he set the mug down and climbed into the sleeping bag with her. Her skin was cold, too cold. Concern for her kept his thoughts pure. Focusing only on getting her warm, he wrapped his arms around her and put his mouth close to hers.
“Breathe in when I exhale,” he said. Hypothermia affected the lungs, so filling them with warm air was essential.
Her lips brushed over his as she nodded.
He breathed into her, again and again, giving his heat, his warmth, his life to her. His blood was still pumping with adrenaline, his heart hammering against hers. By slow increments, her skin took on the same temperature as his. His fear and anxiety faded as her trembling subsided. After a while, the tight space inside the sleeping bag wasn’t just warm.
It was hot.
Sean buried his face in the hollow of her neck, collapsing with relief. If worry for her had prevented him from responding to the unintentional eroticism of the situation, his relaxing concern had the opposite effect. Her body was so soft, so luscious. He loved every solitary inch of her, not just her breasts. Her belly button was the sexiest thing he’d ever seen. The curve of her spine drove him crazy.
Even the sight of her bare toes turned him on.
He shifted his weight to one side, hoping she wouldn’t notice the way his body was reacting to hers. “What happened?”
She moistened her lips. “I don’t know.”
“Taryn said you fell.”
“I—I guess I did. But—” She broke off, frowning.
“What?”
“I felt something hit me.”
He froze. “Hit you where?”
“In the back.”
“Like a push?”
She gave him a strange look. “No. More like a bump. Like Taryn lost her balance and bumped into me.”
His stomach clenched with dread.
“I thought the safety rail would stop my forward momentum, but it didn’t. When I hit the side of the railing, it just…fell away.”
“That’s strange,” he said. “I checked the rail earlier this week. It was solid.”
Daniela stared up at him, her eyes dark and deep in the lamplight. “I don’t know what to say. Maybe I imagined it.” She tore her gaze from his, making a harsh sound. “We all know I’m a little crazy.”
“No,” he said, feeling his resolve slip. She must have felt it, too, because she glanced his way again, studying his mouth in a way that could have roused a dead man.
Sean wasn’t dead. He’d been halfway there, emotionally, much of the time they’d spent apart, but he was alive now. Every fiber of his being was on full alert, every nerve in his body vibrating, every muscle taut.
Any blood that was left in his head rushed south, hardening his erection to a painful degree, and he knew damned well she could feel
that.
Her eyelids got heavy and her mouth went soft. A bead of sweat trickled down his spine, into the waistband of his shorts.
Jason opened the door again. “Tea?”
Sean couldn’t take his eyes off Daniela.
“I guess you don’t need it,” he said, a smirk in his voice.
“Go away,” Sean said hoarsely. “Before I kill you.”
As soon as Jason closed the door, Daniela threaded her fingers through his hair and lifted her parted lips to his. Making a strangled sound, he gave her what she wanted, thrusting his tongue inside her mouth, tasting her deeply. She moaned, kissing him back with sultry enthusiasm. When he slid his thigh between her legs, pressing hard, she gasped, digging her fingernails into his sweat-slicked back.
He wanted to take her hips in his hands and grind himself against her, stroke his erection along her sweet, hot cleft. He wanted to be inside her.
Panting, he broke contact with her mouth, trying to recover his wits. God, he felt as coarse as a schoolboy. He was going to climax all over her stomach.
“Don’t stop,” she whispered, her hand drifting down his belly.
He caught her before she went too far. “If you touch me, I’ll come.”
She nibbled on her lower lip, clearly not put off by the idea. He kissed her again, distracting her, and shifted his thigh from between her legs, making room for his hand. The feel of her wet heat against his fingertips was like heaven. He slid his index finger along the seam of her sex and slipped it inside, where she grasped him snugly.
“God,” he muttered, clenching his teeth. “You’re so hot.”
She squirmed and spread her legs wider, begging him for more. She’d always been responsive, but this display of sensuality was so overt, he almost couldn’t hold himself in check. Her scent filled his nostrils as he stroked her, plunging his fingers in and out. Her breasts quivered, the dusky tips jutting forward. His mouth watered to taste her. When she whimpered, he pressed the ball of his thumb to her swollen clit.
That was all it took. One little nudge. She bit her lip to keep from crying out as she shattered, convulsing around his fingers.
If he moved, he’d follow her, so he stayed right where he was, his eyes on her face and his hand between her legs. When she relaxed, blinking up at him as though she’d just drifted back down to earth, he eased back slowly.
His fingers were slick and fragrant with her. He stared at her glistening sex, caught between exquisite pleasure and acute agony, his cock as stiff as Skull Rock. Aware that he was no longer capable of telling her no, she pushed down the front of his shorts. Watching his face, she ran her fingertip down his rigid length.
And that was all it took for him. One simple touch.
Making a soft O with her lips, she wrapped her fingers around him, squeezing and stroking his shaft. When she swept her thumb over the blunt tip, spreading a bead of moisture, he groaned, his body jerking uncontrollably.
She bent her head, touching her tongue to him.
The moment her hot mouth closed around him, he started to climax. She stayed right where she was, drawing him deep.
When it was over, she rested her cheek on his belly, eyes closed.
He wasn’t sure how long it took him to recover. Seconds ticked by and silence stretched between them, punctuated only by his thundering heartbeat and ragged breaths. Fighting against post-orgasmic lassitude, and the deeper, more disturbing need to hold her in his arms all night long, he forced himself to roll away.