Page 20 of Spencer

A sudden, violent wave of turbulence rocked the ship, startling him.

“Fuck,” Spencer barked, grabbing onto the rail with one hand, while with the other he frantically attempted to stop his tanks from rolling over the side. Luckily, Pietro and one other crew member were right there, too, so none of his equipment went into the drink from the jolt they’d received.

“Aftershock,” Pietro heaved unnecessarily as after about twenty seconds the ship’s motion calmed and they all regained their sea-legs.

Spencer’s blood ran cold.

Fuck.If the seismic activity had hit them that hard, what was happening below?

“Quick. Help me with my gear,” he barked. “I’ve got to head down right the hell now and see if Tabitha’s okay.”

“But you haven’t?—”

“Screw the decompression,” Spencer howled, believing he’d be fine. He’d finally learned that the tide had been steadily going out, making this trip a little less deep. Sure, the quarter to half a foot he’d benefit wasn’t that much, but his dive-depth to begin with had only been thirty feet. Not enough that he had any over-the-top concerns for his well-being. And if the worstdidoccur, there was supposedly a Coast Guard Cutter a few hours out that held a decompression or hyperbaric chamber. He’d take those odds.

“Tabitha’s safety is more important right now,” he barked.

They practically threw his tanks onto him, strapping the extra—already equipped with its own regulator—onto his leg.

“Send the ones for my cutter down with the winch after I’m clear,” he ordered.

He was glad no one was trying to stop him and that they’d helped him get his shit together so fast.

Spencer quickly lowered his mask, engaged his regulator, and flipped over the side to follow the line down.

Calm. Calm.

Breathe slowly.

It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he was agitated.

At first glance,after reaching the bottom, Spencer thought things looked the same; that the sub had escaped any additional damage. But as he swam closer, he saw a large piece of concrete sitting atop the stern that hadn’t been there before.

Shit.

He quickly made his way to the sub.

Tabitha’s face, thank God, was already at the porthole, which at this point—as Spencer had expected—was underwater from the inside. She had her escape suit on and zipped up, but there were no air-bubbles, which meant she hadn’t yet turned on her tanks. Clearly, she was only submerging herself for a moment to see if he had arrived.

Are you okay? he gestured making a circle with his thumb and forefinger.

She returned his sign, which lent him about a second of relief before she pointed to her watch.

Shit.That couldn’t be good.

Previously, they’d figured he had an hour and a half to cut her out of her submersible upon his return. He’d been hoping he could add to that with the extra half hour he’d just gained coming down early. A two-hour window was what theyshouldhave available now; an adequate amount of time.

Spencer braced himself for her sitrep.

He knew from her face that it had to be bad news.

Tabitha mimicked the water level rising with her hands, then tapped her watch and gave him a chilling thirty-minute sign with her fingers.

Thirty, plus forty?Spencer gestured, hoping beyond hope that she still had possession of her auxiliary tanks.

Tabitha nodded, then made an “up” signal, indicating that she’d held her breath for as long as she could and needed to go back into her air pocket.

Spencer gave what he hoped was a positive response before Tabitha disappeared from his view.

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