Page 133 of Ford

The light widened but shot off to the side, and she got her first look at her rescuers.

Not the freighter but a…yacht? A white-hulled luxury yacht rising five stories from the sea, big enough to be a freighter, perhaps. And standing at the bow, a cluster of men waving. One of them went into the water, wearing a wet suit, fins, and a mask, dragging a line.

She knelt, gripping the sides of her boat, trying not to weep, watching as the light illuminated his progress. The yacht slowed, some thirty feet away.

Her rescuer swam right up to the edge, and she couldn’t help but hold on to the hope that it might be Ford. He swam like Ford, the combat swim stroke, smooth in the water like—

He came up to the side and grabbed the boat, popping his head up.

She just stared at him. Dark eyes and a smile that loosened the last bit of her self-control. “Master Chief Nez?”

“Hey there, Petty Officer Hathaway. Need a lift home?”

She had nothing.

He went around to the front of the skiff and tied a line to the bow hook. Then he waved to the yacht, and her boat began to move through the water. Nez held on to the side. “You okay?”

She nodded, still trying to wrap her brain around… “How did you, I mean…I don’t…”

“Long story, Hathaway.”

Yeah, her too.

They reached the yacht, and Nez directed the boat to the swim platform in back. He climbed aboard as others came down to pull her in. Trini. Levi.

Ham. He wore a rain jacket, his blond hair wet, beard growth and worry on his face as he extended his hand to her. “Scarlett. Are you okay?” His gaze went to her forehead.

“Yeah.” She touched it, found a bump had lifted. “I took a hit to the side of the boat when I capsized.” Oh, or he might be referring to her shiner.

She’d sort of forgotten about that.

“Scarlett!” The voice turned her.

For a moment, hope swooped in, carried her aloft.

RJ. She came down the stairs carrying a blanket.

“Is Ford here?”

RJ put the blanket over her shoulders, her face turning hollow. “No. We lost him when the wave capsized your boat.”

Because he’d gone after her.

Silence from the group. Clearly no one knew what to say.

Behind RJ, another man came down the stairs. Short brown hair, he wore a rain slicker. “Tate?”

“Hey, Scarlett.”

Behind him came another man, no rain slicker, wearing a thermal shirt, the sleeves pushed up on thick forearms. He wore his hair short, just behind his ears, covered with a baseball cap, and a grizzle of whiskers over the same hard jawline as Tate. He even leaned against the rail like Tate, who had his arms folded over his rain slicker. She took a wild guess, not quite recognizing him without the long hair from his photos, but… “Wyatt?”

He nodded, his face grim.

She had a gut feeling she knew why he was here. Coco.

“Let’s get you warm.” Tate put his arm around her and led her toward the stairs to the main deck.

She followed him, RJ coming up behind her. “When we didn’t meet Ham’s contact in Petropavl, Ham got worried and called Senator White, who called the Marshalls, and that’s how Tate got involved. He tapped Ford’s SEAL team for help, and they flew to Europe.”

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