Chapter 1

1

Rescue swimmer, Caleb Meyer, leaned out of the open side door of the MH-60 Jayhawk Coast Guard rescue helicopter, his eyes stinging as the horizontal sleet lashed his face. The familiar tang of saltwater filled his nostrils. He tightened his grip on the handrail, his gloved fingers pressing into the cold metal as he scanned the turbulent sky, searching for a break in the dirt-gray clouds that seemed to suffocate any hint of light.

The Jayhawk shuddered, its rotors fighting against the relentless wind as it lurched through an air pocket above the stricken Seraphim. Caleb's gaze zeroed in on the luxury craft, its forty-foot frame tossed about like a child's toy in the unforgiving grasp of the Bering Sea. The once-pristine white hull was now marred by angry waves, the vessel's estimated nine-ton weight seemingly insignificant against the raw power of nature.

Knowledge of the terrified passengers trapped aboard the stricken vessel sent a surge of adrenalin coursing through his veins, sharpening his focus and steeling his resolve.

The voice of Ben Bishop, rescue pilot, crackled through the intercom, barely audible over the howling wind. "Ready to deploy, Meyer? We don't have much time."

"Copy that, Bishop. Finishing checks." Caleb inspected the carabiners and lines for the final time, ensuring everything was secure. He donned his helmet, the familiar weight settling on his head as he adjusted the visor which provided a crucial barrier against the unrelenting elements.

He leaned back out the door, assessing. "I've seen seagulls position better than this, Bishop. You want me to come up there and show you how it's done?"

Bishop jabbed his extended forefinger above his shoulder and raised his voice above the thump of the rotors. "You're welcome to come up here and keep Sandra steady. Oops, I forgot you have to go swimming. In cold water."

Caleb shook his head at Bishop's pet name for the Mohawk and swung out into the blustery weather, bracing his feet on the door rim. "Henley?"

Jake Henley, Sandra's chief mechanic, gave him a thumbs up.

"Caleb. Get a wiggle on." Caleb's brother, Ryder, their medic, checked his safety harness."I've got a hot date tonight and a babysitter I can't cancel."

"Priorities." Caleb stepped out into the furious energy of the storm.

The wind snatched the air from his lungs and, for an instant, there was only him and the vast expanse of churning indigo below.

"Swimmer entering the hot zone." Henley's voice was measured over the comms, a beacon of calm in the spitting fury.

"Copy that. Sandra holding steady," Bishop confirmed.

The hoist dropped Caleb lower, toward the churning ocean swelling and cresting beneath his feet.

He lifted his face upward, savoring the biting cold against his skin. Below on the deck, two figures huddled against the helm, the remnants of a pleasure-seeking adventure, oblivious to the gravity of the weather warnings issued earlier today.

They were lucky to still be alive. It was his job to ensure they stayed that way, and to prevent the past from repeating itself. A pale face stretched tight with fear flashed across his mind's eye. Too young to die. Caleb wiped the spray from his visor. That was then, not now.

His boots hit the deck, and he disengaged his harness from the winch.

"Retrieving the hoist for medic." The intercom hissed with Henley's voice as Caleb carefully made his way over to the small huddle, his legs wide against the roll of the boat.

"Copy that. Tell my lazy-ass brother to hurry." Caleb dropped to his haunches.

Two frightened faces turned to face him, a man and a woman, both in their fifties, he guessed.

Both of them were soaked, with their hair sticking to the bony edges of their skulls, their expensive clothes ruined. Tourists and pleasure sailors, thinking that money insured them against the reality of Mother Nature, made this a familiar sight at this time of year in Aurora Cove.

The man clutched his arm against his chest, his skin a greasy gray pallor. His hand hung at an unnatural angle. Caleb toggled his comms. "Ryder. Injuries sustained. Wrist, possibly broken."

"Copy that." Above, Ryder swung into the hungry wind, his dark form bathed in the orange glow of underbelly lighting.

Caleb rested his hand on the woman's shoulder. Her eyelids fluttered closed briefly under his touch. "Ma'am. You okay?"

She nodded and inclined her head toward her companion. Caleb leaned in to hear before the wind snatched away her words.

"…Harry fell…he was trying to get me out…my fault…" She sucked in a sharp breath, her eyes squeezing shut.

"We'll worry about what happened later.I'm Caleb and my team is going to get you off this boat and somewhere a little less bouncy. How does that sound?"

The woman smiled despite the tremble in her lips. "Good."

"Excellent." Caleb released the second harness from the clip on his waist. "Tell me your name."

"Heather."

"Okay, Heather—" A wave crashed over the boat's rail, sluicing freezing water across the deck and drowning out his words. Caleb swallowed a gasp, consciously slowing his breathing as he'd been taught in his BUD/S training, suppressing his body's instinctive reflex to panic. The woman, Heather, was sobbing now. He gave her arm a gentle squeeze. "Are you hurt at all?"

She shook her head, so Caleb turned his attention to her companion.

"Sir. It's Harry?"

The man nodded.

"Is it just your arm, or are you hurt anywhere else?"

The man swallowed, his Adam's apple bobbing in his throat. "Just my arm." His voice was hoarse, probably from shouting over the din of the storm.

"Okay, Harry. We're getting you out of here. Everything is going to be fine. Our medic, Ryder, will secure that arm for you before we take you up."

Caleb checked over his shoulder. Ryder hit the deck and unclipped himself from the winch. Medic kit slung over his shoulder, he hurried over, legs bent to compensate for the lurching sea, rain streaming against the curve of his helmet. He dropped to his knees beside the man and swung his kit to the deck. "Hey, I'm Ryder."

Caleb helped the woman to her feet, but she kept her attention locked on Ryder as he examined Harry's hand. "Will he be okay?"

"Ryder is the best. I need you to put this on." Caleb helped the woman to step into the harness, then snapped it securely at her shoulders and hips. Snugging the straps tight twice over, he raised his voice over the howling wind. "Heather. Is there anyone else on board?"

The woman hugged her arms, her attention driven inward by the raging weather. "Please get me out of here…"

Caleb moved directly in front of her. "Heather. Is there anyone else on board?" Her eyes were hazy, unfocused. He'd seen this before. Storm survivors overwhelmed, shutting down. He gripped her shoulders between his gloved hands, digging in with firm pressure, forcing her to look at him. "Heather."

She blinked. Her vision cleared, a wrinkle of annoyance passing across her forehead at his uncomfortable grip.

Good. Emotion would keep her alive.

"Y-yes. Susan. Harry's sister. We couldn't get back down. It was too crazy. I don't know. She might have gone overboard."

"Okay. Keep your hands here and your legs together. My team mate Jake will meet you at the top. Ready?"

She nodded, knuckles blanched as she gripped the straps across her chest.

Okay. "Jake. Prepare to lift rescue one."

"Copy that." Jake's voice hissed on the comms."Preparing to lift rescue one."

"Take her up," Caleb hollered, already calculating where the missing woman would be. The winch snagged tight and Marie lifted off the deck with an audible squawk as she spun upward, legs windmilling.

One down, two to go. Caleb lurched in careful steps back over to where Ryder was finishing strapping up the man's arm with efficient skill.

Ryder secured the wrist support in place. "I think it's broken, but I've made it good and given him analgesic."

Jake's voice hissed over the comms. "Hoist returning for a second uplift."

Caleb caught the wildly swinging winch hook while Ryder helped the man into his harness, securing the straps neatly around his injured arm. Finally he attached the winch clip.

"Ready, Henley." Ryder squinted, tracking the injured man's progress as he swung off the boat and over the open ocean.

Caleb shifted his gaze to the rise of dark water on the horizon. His gut tightened. Shit. Time was running out.

"Okay ladies, this is Bishop. Thinking time's over. Get your asses off that boat. Sandra's fighting me every step of the way." Bishop's voice was strained over the screeching engine.

Caleb hunched his shoulders against the sting of icy rain. "One person unaccounted." He headed for the helm door, arms spread wide for balance.

Alerts pinged in the background. "Ryder. This is Bishop. Get your brother to hurry and get the hell up here or you're going to be swimming home."

Ryder shouted after him. "Caleb?"

"Just making sure we don't leave anyone behind." The helm door was jammed. Caleb stepped back, then shoved hard. The latch burst and he was inside. He ignored the gleam of expensive equipment and headed for the hatch that would take him to the lower deck.

"Caleb!" Ryder shouted from outside. The comms buzzed. "Bishop. He's below deck."

Caleb hurried down the companionway, hand over foot. The wood was slippery. Lethal. He breathed a sigh of relief when he hit the lower cabin.

"Sandra's struggling. Get a move on." Bishop sounded pissed now, as the intensity of the Mohawk's complaint intensified.

A flash of lightning illuminated the saloon. Surety settled on Caleb. He was here now and had a job to do. One he was damn good at.

Dark wood lined the saloon, gleaming in the stormy light. Magazines were scattered on the floor and a bottle of wine had smashed, dousing the table in scarlet liquid. A relentless barrage of rain lashed the portholes as Caleb navigated the chaotic space, fighting the pitch and roll of the floor under his feet. The carpet squelched with sea water. Skin pinched on the back of his neck. How much longer did the ship have?

"Susan!" He yanked open the door to reveal a narrow corridor. A door banged open and shut, straight ahead, revealing a bedroom. Bathroom was on his right.

"Susan?" He pushed open the bathroom door. Lightning flashed through the circular porthole, bouncing off floor to ceiling white tiles. "Sus?—"

The woman was wedged in the small shower stall, arms clutching her sides, the skin on her face stretched like fragile parchment.

Caleb kneeled and reached in, taking hold of her hand. "Susan. I'm Caleb. I'm here to get you out of here."

A whimper. He lifted the visor on his helmet. If she'd shut down on him completely, it was going to be a whole other shitstorm to evacuate her.

But then her gaze locked on him. "Please."

"Come on." He grabbed her shoulders and half lifted, half guided her to her feet. "Okay. I need you to look after this for me." He pressed his flashlight into her hands to give her something to focus on other than the rising water now sucking at her shins.

"Meyer." Bishop's voice buzzed like an angry bee in his ear. "Ship is taking on water. Get your ass out of there now."

"On our way, birdman." He turned to Susan. "I've got you. Let's get out of here."

She nodded, the flashlight beam bouncing around erratically.Caleb hustled her back into the main saloon and toward the exit hatch. He took the flashlight from her and placed her hands on the ladder rungs where water now gushed over the wood. "Climb."

She nodded and scrambled up, water splashing off her.

Caleb tracked her, holding his body close, in case the torrent knocked her off balance.

At the top, Ryder caught her forearms and pulled her up the last few rungs, already maneuvering her into a harness by the time Caleb stepped onto the reeling deck awash with water.

"Medic lifting," Henley observed as Ryder lifted off the deck with Susan.

Caleb gritted his teeth, and clung to the helm rail, braced against the relentless hammer of surging waves. He was soaked through, the sub-arctic water numbing his bones. "Henley. This is Meyer. Now would be an excellent time for retrieval." The ship pitched violently, and he almost lost his grip.

"Keep your panties on. Returning winch to the hot zone." Henley's voice crackled over the intercom, his nonchalance in stark contrast to the furious sea.

A gasp of relief escaped Caleb as he finally secured the winch hook, relying on muscle memory to guide him through the motions.

The last clip snapped into place. "This is Meyer. Ready for uplift."

For a heart-stopping moment, the winch stalled, resisting the pull. The wind howled, spinning him like a leaf caught in a tempest. Then, with a shuddering certainty, the winch engaged, lifting him skyward.

Henley's face appeared out of the side door with a mix of relief and reproach as he reached to pull Caleb in. "That was too close."

Caleb swung out of the storm's grip, catching his breath. He fired Henley a grin. "Just another day at the office, right?"