She nodded. “You mean, you hope they don’t know where we are.”
At that, shots rang out on board, and then it went silent. The guard stared fearfully up above.
She whispered, “You should go find out what’s going on, before you get pinned down here, and they sink us.” He looked at her in surprise, but she saw his fear growing in his expression. She nodded encouragingly. “Go check it out at least.”
Casually he rounded the corner of the doorway, and just then a shot rang out. She watched in horror as the back of his head exploded, and he collapsed. Soon enough, two men hopped down, both of them with face masks, dressed in black, their weapons at the ready. They completely searched the area before coming back to them. One of them looked at her and frowned. “Gizella?”
She nodded, then quickly stood.
“Seriously, it’s you, isn’t it?”
She looked at his profile and said, “Hey, Baylor. Am I ever glad to see you!”
“Glad to see me?” he said in a dry low whisper. “You never called.”
She gave him a wry smile. “Believe me, I regret that right now.” It would be him standing right here in front of her. She sagged a bit and said, “My parents need help.”
“No problem,” he said. “I’ve got somebody here who’ll give you a hand. Just hang on a minute. We’ve still got to make sure the boat is secured.”
She turned to her father. “Looks like the SEALs came after all.”
He stared at her in shock, then looked after the man who just disappeared and asked, “Seriously? You know him?”
“It’s Baylor.”
“How can you tell?” her mother asked. “You can’t see anything for all the gear they’re wearing.”
“I just can,” she said, without saying anything further, because how did you explain about how that profile, that stance, that tilt of his shoulders was so recognizable? It was more than just her artistic nature at work. She’d been so damn attracted to him back then. He’d been pushing for more, but she hadn’t been ready. Afterward she had been afraid he’d gone on a mission, and she had no clue what had happened after that.
She still held on to his phone number and had been tempted to call but never had. She couldn’t really explain the impulse herself, but it had been there—that she hadn’t been able to fight the attraction, but she hadn’t done anything about it. So, of course, it would be him coming to her rescue right now. Life was once again having a great time playing tricks.
As she waited, she walked over to her mother, just as another shot rang out. It came through the glass of the tiny window, glass shattering everywhere. Her father cried out, as he was slammed against the wall by the force of the shot. She screamed and called out, “Baylor, it’s my father!”
She raced over to him, immediately putting pressure against the blood shooting from his shoulder. Instantly she heard more footsteps. Baylor came down beside her, then quickly shoved her aside. He held a hand against the wound and checked for his vitals. “I need a medic down below,” he called out over his radio. “The governor’s been hit.”
More sounds of feet moving came, and, before she even had a chance to argue, her father was lifted and carried upstairs. With a cry, her mother rushed behind them. Gizella followed in the last position, as a hand nudged her forward; it was Baylor again.
She looked up at him and said, “It’s bad, isn’t it?”
“It could be,” he said grimly. “But we’re not far from help, and we’ve got a field medic here.”
“Who shot him?” she demanded.
“We have a team heading to shore right now,” he said.
“You think it came from shore?” she asked in shock. As she stepped up on deck, she realized the shore was right there. As in right there. She shook her head. “I had no idea we were so close.”
“We’ve been tracking you for the last few miles,” he said, “and you’ve been coming in closer and closer.”
“I don’t believe it,” she said, as she looked around. “I could have swum this distance easily.”
“Sure. So why didn’t you?” he asked curiously.
She looked over at him, shrugged, and said, “I couldn’t leave my parents.”
“No, I get that,” he said, then led her over to the side. There she saw other men getting her parents off. “Where will they take him?”
“To the nearest emergency medical center,” he said.
“You’ll stand guard on them?”
“We will, yes,” he said.
She made no move to get off the boat herself, and he wasn’t asking her to. She turned to look at him and asked, “What’ll happen to me now?”
“I’m taking you to a safe place,” he said. “There, we’ll debrief you and see what we can salvage out of this mess.”
She could tell he was pissed about her father getting shot. “Do you have any idea who’s behind it? What do you want to know?”
“You can tell me about that face you drew, for one thing.”
“Oh,” she said. “You found my journal.”
“I did,” he said. “Now let’s get you off here and someplace safe. We can get you a change of clothes, get you checked over, and then believe me. We have questions. Lots and lots of questions. But we’ll wait for the safe house for that.”
*
And a few of the questions Baylor had were: Why the hell was she in this situation? Where had she been all these years? And why hadn’t she called him back?
He had to let it go, as he had so many years ago, but to think of the five or so years that had passed and to have her turn up like this? … Some would call it a coincidence, others fate. He had no answers but felt such delight, aside from the circumstances, that put her on his path. They’d connected years ago at a level he
