SEALed With a Kiss: Even a Hero Needs Help Sometimes... (47 page)

Pickett didn't see them come up, but the water, dark with burning light, was littered with heads, indistinguishable from one another and with coolers that had been thrown in as flotation devices. She said a prayer for the woman, and then for herself. How was she going to find Jax?

Pickett.
Did someone call her name? Was that ... yes, there he was. Not looking absurd at all with the flower-patterned scarf around his head. He was looking for her.

He had come.

Her heart beating so hard that her entire body shook, Pickett climbed onto the bench and threw one leg over the rail. The foot-wide platform where fishermen rested their rods made it hard to get her leg over. She feared she would fall before she could jump. It was never going to work. She couldn't touch with her toes until she had both legs over.

She squirmed around until her diaphragm rested on the platform then slowly allowed both legs to drop over. The platform was much closer to chest height than to waist height, and her legs now dangled. Ignoring the splinters scraping into her arms and chest, she lowered herself down, feeling for something solid with her feet.

At last. But now she would have to let go in order to turn around. Her entire body throbbed with the force of her heartbeats. Turn. She could do this.

Now her back was to the pier and all she had to do was crawl into the piling.

There he was, watching her.

Pickett knew for a fact that she could not jump into that dark, oily-looking water, shifting and moving so that you could never tell where it was.

Jax, however, believed she could. At every turn he'd believed she was stronger, truer, and braver than she thought herself to be. She'd faced some truths about herself—that she kept herself sealed off, rarely letting people know how she felt or what she needed. But because of Jax, Pickett had talked more openly with her sister than she ever had, asserted her needs, revealed her shortcomings, and as a result, she had a sister today who was also a friend. She'd opened up to her clients and been met with compassion and support.

She'd told Jax she couldn't jump and he hadn't said, "Oh you poor thing." He'd said, "Jump anyway." If she focused on the water she couldn't do it. If she focused on him, she could. She could choose to listen to her fear—about everything—or listen to him.

She made herself see only Jax, not the water. She made herself know only that she was going to him. The distance between them didn't mean anything. She reviewed his directions.
You will jump feet. first Keep your feet tight together, arms across your chest, pinch your nose. We will swim together. I can. You will.

But she couldn't do as he said while crouched in a ball.

Never letting her eyes leave his face, she slowly stood.

There she was. She'd seen him. The fear, too unbearable to think about, that she wouldn't be there on the fantail, that he wouldn't be able to get to her until too late, released its talons from his gut so swiftly as to leave him lightheaded. In seconds he would have her and then she'd be where she belonged.

What the hell was she doing? She was going
over
the rail. Why didn't she just stand on it to jump? It was wide enough to hold her little feet easily.
Stand up! Jump, you idiot!
Oh shit. Her legs were dangling. He willed her toes forward until they touched the weathered boards.

She looked so little crouched there, clutching an upright with one arm while she turned. With the glare of the fire at her back, he could see little more than a dark shape, and yet for a moment, he had the impression she was looking straight into his eyes.

She stayed like that forever. For eons. Until he was sure she had frozen. He had seen it happen. When the fear became overwhelming and people just curled into a ball. And then she began to move, a funny scooting crab-like crawl onto the piling.

Smoke drifted across her but when he could see

her again she was a little further along.
Come on.

You can do it You want to jump off a piling? That
s

just as good. A little further and you 're ready.

Come on. Come on!

Oh damn. She was frozen again. Maybe she didn't intend to jump. Maybe she had panicked and was simply trying to crawl as far as possible from the fire. No. This time he could see the shine of her eyes as she looked straight at him. She rose from her crouch with the swift fluid grace that was so much a part of her, and launched herself into the air. Feet together, arms pulled in tight, pinching her nose, she entered the water with textbook-illustration technique. Hooyah.

Though he wanted to, there was no point in diving down to where she had entered the water. With an almost leisurely crawl he moved to where the swell would bring her up again.

Bubbles hitting her face, tickling across her skin, loud burbles and gurgles. It went on and on. She just kept going down and there didn't seem to be anything she could do about it. Soon she would start coming up. That was the thing you could depend on. The ocean would always bring you up. Her descent was slowing finally but her lungs were already burning, and she still had to get all the way back up. Something bumped her, trickling more bubbles across her face. Reflexively she put out a hand to brush it away and felt her fingers tangle in fabric and then close around a tiny, soft ... it felt like an arm. A baby's arm. Her first thought was to wonder what child had lost her doll. She pulled it closer and felt a tiny hand brush her face then cling to her collar.

A baby. There was a baby in the water with her. Under the water. Babies would reflexively hold their breath, hadn't she read that? But for how long? Her own lungs were beginning to scream for air. How long had the baby been under? She began to kick for the surface, her efforts feeling clumsy and futile with the unaccustomed weight of her slacks.

"Jax," she screamed as soon as her head broke the surface, immediately swallowing a mouthful of water as she tried to lift the baby above the water. Though tiny, its water-logged diaper made the infant amazingly heavy and Pickett went under again.

A cool-warm arm circled her and brought her to the surface. "Easy. I've got you now. Just relax."

Pickett coughed and coughed but continued to hold the baby as high as she could.

"Breathe," came Jax's voice warm in her ear. "You're all right."

"A baby." Pickett gasped. "It was in the water with me. You take it."

Jax suddenly made sense of the bundle Pickett seemed to clutch so senselessly. He quickly turned Pickett to face him so that the baby was supported between them.

"Is it breathing?" Pickett asked. "Is it alive?"

Wide dark eyes looked into Jax's face with a look of indignant inquiry while a rosebud mouth pulled into a serious pout. The mouth opened in a huge shuddering breath and let out a wail.

"I'd say it is."

"Save the baby, then. I'll be all right. Til—"

Of all the idiotic, lame-brained—! She had been about to drown herself trying to hold a kid out of the water. Leave her! There was no one he would not sacrifice, except Tyler, for her safety. Shit. He didn't have time to deal with this right now.

"Hush." It wasn't reassurance. It was a command. "Here's what we do. You're going to turn on your back, and hold the baby on its back on your chest, arms crossed across it. I'll tow you." Each word was driven with hammer blows.

Where was the man with the glinting gray eyes that sparkled with ready laughter? This man with the hard face, and harder voice, was someone she didn't know. This was the man she'd seen in the grocery store—was it only two weeks ago? Dangerous. Implacable. Remote.

Thank God he was on her side.

Taking care of Tyler was his job, so he would do it. If she married him, she would be his to take care of too, and he would do it the best he could.

She nestled the baby, who seemed to enjoy this novel form of transportation, a little closer, and was almost sure the stinging in her eyes was caused by the saltwater.