And fuck, but I feel good. Really good.
When we’re together like this, she makes me feel like a hero again, like a soldier with a mission. Staring at her back through the thin fabric of her shirt, I can make out the clasp of her bikini top that’s come slightly undone probably due to her frantic fight for survival. One flick of my fingers and the top would drop right off her perfect breasts. If Jenkins, that cockblocking bastard, didn’t force his way onto my boat, I’d strip Celia bare the second we set foot back on deck.
She’s silent, but I notice more relaxed and content than she was when I brought her out here. I’m sure the adrenaline fall combined with the sun and all the swimming is making her tired. What I wouldn’t give to have her curled up to my side, sleeping peacefully while we’re rocked to sleep by the ocean swells.
But sleeping together is out of the question now.
“Old man!” I maneuver the kayak right up to the back and steady it as best I can. “Go ahead and step out.”
She rises up on shaky legs and I am the perv she accused me of being because I stare at her ass the entire time she hefts her tight little body onto the boat. My dick responds to her immediately so I force myself to think of Jenkins waiting up there, that foggy eye sure to be staring at me while he puffs his cigar and drinks all my damn beer.
Thankfully, those thoughts do the job and curb the swelling in my short—
“Aden!” Celia’s frantic calling of my name brings me to high alert.
I scramble off the kayak, tie it to the boat, and race into the cabin where Celia is kneeling on the floor next to Jenkins. His face is pale . . . too pale.
“Shit.” I drop down to my knees and check for a pulse. “Jenks, man, wake up.” He’s breathing, but it’s shallow.
“Oh God, is he okay?” Her voice shakes with something bigger than fear.
I wave her over. “Sit here. I’ll go radio the Coast Guard and get us moving.”
Her eyebrows pinch together and tears gloss over her eyes, but she nods and pulls Jenks’s hand into her lap. “Okay.”
“Stay low. This could get bumpy.” I race to the cockpit and fire up the prop while grabbing the radio. “Coast Guard, this is the Nauti Nancy off the Coronado Islands.” I flip the anchor windlass and take off before it’s fully up. “We’ve got a man unconscious, possible heart attack. He’s breathing, but he doesn’t look good. Coming in to south Islandia Marina. We need an ambulance. Over.”
I look back to see the kayak floating in the distance, having become loose due to my quick takeoff. “Celia! Talk to me!”
“He’s still out! He’s . . . breathing, but he won’t wake up!”
“Okay, baby, you keep talking to him! Let him hear your voice!” The roar of the engine and waves makes it hard for me to hear what she says but the sweet murmur of her voice is constant over the time it takes us to pull into San Diego Bay.
Ignoring the no wake buoys, I race to the marina, picking up a small harbor patrol boat flashing its lights for me to slow down. Too bad. He can give me a ticket once I’m finally back and Jenkins is on his way to the hospital.
I’m forced to finally slow, but still skid like a downhill skier into the closest dock, shutting off the engine and tying it off. Waving down the paramedics that are pushing in through the gate I go in to see Celia’s put a pillow under his head and is still holding his hand in hers.
Tears stream down her cheeks as she peers up at me. “He’s gonna be okay, right, Aden?”
“Yeah.” I check his pulse again. It’s barely there. “He’ll be fine.”
The stomping of feet enter into the cabin as the paramedics file onto the boat. “Go get dressed.”
She seems stunned by my sending her away, but whatever happens next I don’t want her to be witness to. I’ve seen men fight for their lives on the battlefield while a medic goes to every possible length to save him. She doesn’t need to carry those images around with her for the rest of her life.
Plus, the boat’s cabin is only big enough for a handful of people. They’ll need all the space they can get.
“Can you tell us what happened?” one paramedic asks as he drops down to check Jenkins’s vitals.
I face Celia, and she jerks at whatever she sees in my expression. “Go.”
Quickly she darts to the bathroom and once she’s safe inside I explain to the paramedics how we found Jenkins. “No clue how long he was out for.”
They fire off questions while working on getting him strapped to a stretcher. “We’re taking him to Scripps. If you could inform his family.”
Family. As far as I know he doesn’t talk to his kids anymore. I’ll have to call Cal and see if he knows who to contact. “Will do.”
They take him away and I snag my phone to make a quick call for two cabs before heading back to the bathroom to get Celia.
I knock once. “He’s okay, they’re taking him to the hospital.”
The click and then slide of the pocket door and she peers out. She’s removed her wet shirt and is standing in nothing but her bikini. My eyes zero in on the bruises of her upper arms and I cringe and drop my gaze to the floor. “I’m gonna leave the boat here and head down to the hospital.”
“I’ll go with you.”
“No.” I shove a couple twenty-dollar bills into her hand. “A cab is on the way. I’ll call if there’s any news.” I don’t wait for her to respond because I didn’t ask a question. Jenkins could be breathing his last breath and what I don’t need is a woman keeping me from him.
“Are you sure you don’t want company?” Her timid voice comes from my back and I clench my fists to keep from grabbing her and shaking her.
“If I did, I’d ask.”
“Oh . . .” Her voice is so soft the pain is audible. “Okay.”
I grab some clothes and stomp off to the bathroom to rinse off the salt water and dress. By the time I’m done I walk out and find Celia gone. All her things are gone as if I’d only imagined her being here.
I pretend not to care; after all, she did what I asked. Storming through the kitchen, my eyes snag on a small piece of paper with girlie handwriting.
Aden,
I’m sorry about Jenkins. Call me if you need me.
I’ll be here. Waiting.
xx
My fist closes around the paper to ball it up and toss it in the trash, but in the end I shove it in my pocket, meet my cab, and head to the hospital.
Distractions are good when they’re pulling you from where you don’t want to be, not so good when they’re taking you from where you need to be most.
SEVENTEEN
SAWYER
It’s been over twenty-four hours since the paramedics took Jenkins off Aden’s boat. As the sun sinks into the Pacific Ocean so does a little of the hope that I’ll ever hear from Aden again.
I thought for sure he’d call last night. That he’d apologize for being so cold. That he’d blame it on his concern for Jenkins and then follow that up with an update to let me know the old man was doing better. That he’d suffered from some benign medical thing and would make a full recovery.
I’ve waited for that call.