Chapter 31

Nicki blew out a long breath as she reached the knot of people gathered at the shoreline. Her usual pre-performance nerves were fully in evidence, despite the very thorough, very relaxing time she'd spent with Stefan. She'd hoped that languor would endure for a little while longer.

"Miss Clark! Excellent, you're here." Omir came forward first, her efforts last night clearly paying dividends. She didn't mind flirting with the Turkish official as a concept, but the reality was proving a little more tedious. She only had one more day, though. In twenty-four hours or so, they'd take their tour of the excavation site and get the information they needed—she hoped. Either way, she would forever be done with Omir and his musky cologne after that. She doubted she'd participate in another windsurfing competition in Ala?ati until he left his position. There were hundreds of other places to windsurf in the world.

Of course, none of them were as close to Stefan as Ala?ati was. He was here, and she doubted he'd ever consistently live anywhere else in the world but here. If she ever wanted to see him again, she'd need to drum up some reason to come to this side of Europe…and the most obvious would be windsurfing. Otherwise, she'd look pathetic.

That thought struck her with unexpected force as she and Omir were joined by Josef and his crew, all of them buzzing happily about the moves they were going to show the beginners—and the ones they had saved to impress the intermediates as well. Unlike the international competition in August, not too many world-class windsurfers were in town for the exposition, given the focus on the newer adherents to the sport. Still, there were a few, and Josef fully planned to strut his stuff.

"You good, Nicki? We found a board we think you'll like." Josef waved his hand in front of her face, snapping her focus forward.

"I'm good—but don't stick me out there first round, at least not doing anything interesting," she warned. "I haven't had much time in the water so far this year." She cracked a smile, trying to quiet her own nerves. "Not all of us live on the beach, you know."

"Not yet, but my offer stands!" Josef grinned. "We're growing faster than we know what to do with, and the newer entrants to the sport have the money to travel. You could have all expenses paid, my friend, to go and windsurf your brains out in every corner of the globe. Think about it!"

He headed off and Nicki surged forward, scanning the boards and sails with a practiced eye. She spotted the one Josef had picked out for her almost immediately. Sleek, brightly colored and slightly smaller sized, it would fit her frame comfortably and give her maximum lift. The sail seemed to be connected properly to the mast foot, though the hinge configuration was new to her. How long had it been since she'd used equipment this nice? The boards at the Royal Beach had been serviceable and sturdy, meant for beginners. These babies were light. They would totally fly in the wind kicking up over the bay.

"Everyone in! We'll demonstrate beach starts—water starts are better suited for boat trips."

Nicki gave Josef the thumbs up, then lifted her board and carried it down into the water. A beach start was far easier than a water start, though when she'd first learned, it'd been on a large, choppy lake—no beach start beginning for her.

Still, the group that crowded closer to the shore was made up primarily of new surfers, and about a half dozen of Josef's team pushed their boards out past the crashing waves, to where the water reached their thighs. She started with her sail downwind to keep the beach start easy. She wasn't trying to show off here, merely to reassure beginners how easy a proper beach start was. She walked her hands along the mast, taking it in one hand and the boom in the other. She pulled the sail backward to control the board. Turning upwind, she placed her mast hand on the boom and straightened both her arms. Then she placed her foot on the middle line of the board and pulled the board toward her, extending her arms. Using the power of the wind in the sail she was lifted easily onto the board, and just like that…she was flying.

They stepped off the boards and started again, showing the different ways to mount, common pitfalls, and getting a few of the intermediates into the game as demonstrators. The idea was to be relaxed, moving with the wind, and as Nicki warmed up, she felt more revived, eager to be in the water and moving fast. At length Josef pulled up beside her, waving something in his hands—a freestyle belt.

"You up to showing what you got?" he yelled.

Nicki laughed, grabbing the belt as he tossed. She pulled it around her waist, struggling a bit to keep the sail steady in the wind as she lost momentary contact. They'd practiced this move dozens of times over the years, the goal always to stay upright in the water, no matter the wind conditions or the difficulty of the maneuvers they were trying. She'd become somewhat of an expert and had the belt on quickly enough.

As she twisted the board backward and forward, however, warming up her usual moves, something felt off. She scowled, squinting at the mast foot of the rig. The board was super light and the sail flexible, but she couldn't shake the awkward sense she had. She jerked out of the harness, then jumped over the sail as the board shifted beneath her. After she nailed a clean landing, the board wobbled beneath her again and she glared down, but everything held. So far, so good.

The wind kicked up and she took advantage of it, reattaching the harness and leaning all the way over, her right arm extended wide as the watchers on the shore cheered all the freestyle moves of the instructors. Coming up again, the board skidded awkwardly—and then she saw it.

The mast foot was ratcheting out of its hinge.

"Stupid, stupid, stupid!" she screamed into the wind, but of course no one could hear her. The other instructors were leaping waves, and all she needed to do—all she had to do—was get the boat in safely. It wasn't an issue of crashing, though she sure as hell wasn't about to crash. It was an issue of not freaking out any of the newbies and not letting slip the fact that someone on Josef's team hadn't ratcheted down the mast foot well enough. Shame on her for not checking their work more closely.

She cut the sail quickly and headed against the wind, dropping her speed, a pretty move that had more to do with expediency than finesse. She made the turn easily and realized her adrenaline was jacked more than usual. Not surprising, but she was in shallow water, there was no danger here, no issue. She wouldn't embarrass Josef, but she wouldn't?—

Her sight went black.

Nicki whirled around, gasping as her vision cleared then faded again, the dizziness so strong that she could barely stay upright. As it was, the harness was the only thing holding her in place, and she fought the urge to turn and throw up in the water. Her heart was pounding out of control and her breath was tight in her chest—everything was tight in her chest. Dipping crazily, the board whirled and shuddered, and she again was saved by her harness as she caught a hard edge of the wind. The board skittered out of the water, straight once more.

I won't drop, I won't fail, I won't?—

The board swung crazily around and Nicki thrust her head up, facing the sky, the sun, the source of warmth and joy that had fed her all those long days as a teenager surrounded by sick people. And as the spray cleared she picked out a point on the shore that gleamed brilliantly white in the sunlight—a reflection off glass. A reflection off a camera lens, she realized blearily, and then she realized who was holding that camera, who was standing in the middle of the crowd as if no one else was there, focused solely on her, videoing her—seeing her.

Seeing her fail.

"Like hell," she growled, and she dropped down low, her body skimming the wave that seemed to reach up to pull her down…no. Not to pull her down.

To push her up!

She blinked, squinting through the jumping spray—but she wasn't wrong. A cluster of outstretched hands, all in myriad shades of blues and greens, thrust up out of the waves the next time she swooped down too low, shoving her back upright. She spun and jumped catching more wind, and the sea—or whoever was beneath it—played with her, luring her out into deeper water, helping her soar higher, swoop lower, and stay on her faulty board just a little bit longer. She thought she saw arms—hair—even faces, but after several more turns, fatigue hit her like a brick wall. Her sight faltered again, shimmied and whirled, and her heart shuddered hard in her chest. She angled back toward shallow water, once again feeling the surge of the board beneath her as unseen hands hurtled her and her craft toward safety…but this time, she'd pushed her luck a little too far.

Nicki's head spun, and this time there was no coming back. She cut the sail again and—well clear of everyone else in the group—tumbled into the water.