She wasn’t going to make it. Too far, too cold, too much pain. Blood thundered in her ears, her heart crashed wildly against the crushing pressure in her chest. Another second and instinct would overrule reason. She had to breathe. Breathe and end the torture.

Fury washed through her. She would not surrender. Her mind hazed, confusion dulled her senses. The cold bored deep inside her and bloomed into heat, suffusing her with blissful warmth. Another few seconds and the fear began to abate. She stopped thrashing. The vise around her chest tightened, and her battle slowed. Her arms and legs were so heavy. The sea—warmer now—enclosed her, streaming past her face like gentle fingers caressing her, welcoming her. She was so close to falling asleep, the cold forgotten.

A frigid blast of air hit her in the face and someone yelled into her ear, “Breathe, damn it. Breathe!”

Wes jerked and sucked in a lungful of air. She coughed and life returned to her arms and legs. Pins and needles shot into her fingers and toes. A knife blade of slicing pain pierced her chest. The cold returned with a vengeance. Enemies grasped at her, threatening to pull her back into the dark. She thrashed.

“Wes, it’s Evyn! Don’t fight me.”

The darkness disappeared, gray sky flashed overhead. An arm gripped her chest—Evyn. Evyn was towing her. Evyn was not the enemy. Wes tried to kick her legs, but she couldn’t move.

“Almost there,” Evyn panted, her breath sounding harsh and labored. “Wes, keep breathing.”

Wes sucked in another breath, coughed again. Her throat burned. “Evyn, what—”

“It’s okay, we’re almost to the boat.” Evyn’s voice was strained, tremulous.

The water was so cold. The shore was a distant blur. A whirlpool pulled at her legs. Riptide. Evyn’s grip on her slipped, and Evyn cursed.

“You’ve got to hold on to me,” Evyn shouted. “The current is against us.”

“Don’t let me pull you down.” Wes tried to force her lethargic limbs to move. “I can swim.”

“Shut up, Wes,” Evyn grunted. “I’m not letting you go.”

Wes was too tired, too cold, and in too much pain to argue. Water splashed into her mouth, and she needed all her strength to keep her head above the roiling waves. She had to trust Evyn. She did trust her.

A shadow loomed overhead. The boat.

“Let me lift you,” Evyn ordered. “Don’t fight me.”

Icy metal scraped Wes’s back as she was rolled into a narrow litter and strapped down. She spun in midair and the litter rappelled upward, jerking with each ratchet of the winch. Hands grabbed the basket and guided it onto the deck, voices tumbled over one another—a jumble of orders and phrases she thought she recognized but couldn’t make sense of. “Evyn?”

“She’s right here.” A man’s voice. Then, “Daniels, get below. You’re blue.”

Someone lifted Wes’s left arm, and she groaned.

“Sorry.” A woman’s voice. She knew her. Who?

Wes fought to come back to herself. She opened her eyes, focused on the faces looking down at her. She knew them. Had to connect the names floating in her hazy mind.

“Do you know where you are?” the blonde asked. Blonde—hazel eyes. Worried eyes. Cord.

“I’m okay,” Wes said, her voice sounding like a croak. “On board the ship. I’m okay.”

“You’re okay,” Gary echoed, his face oddly white against the flat gray sky.

“Let me up.” Wes struggled against the strap across her chest.

“Just take it easy.” Evyn appeared next to Gary. “You took a swim, Doc. Let us check you out.”

Above Evyn’s left shoulder the helicopter slid into view, its belly open, the rescue basket angled in the portal. The basket—the basket swinging toward her. Toward her and the patient, her priority. “I remember going in. How’s the patient?”

Evyn smiled crookedly. “Which one?”

“The president. The only one.”

“He’s fine.” Evyn’s mouth twisted and a shadow passed over her face—storm clouds in a summer sky. “How are you?”

“Left shoulder’s getting a workout, but it’s just banged up some. Swallowed a little water, feels like. I’m okay.”

The radio crackled. Cord said, “Lower the Stokes.”

Wes twisted her head, felt a restraint on her neck. “You can take this collar off. I’m fine.”

“You are,” Evyn said, her bloodless lips tinged with blue. “But we’re going to transport you to the hospital—check you out.”

“No way,” Wes said, her voice stronger already. “I never lost consciousness. There’s nothing they’re going to find in the ER that I can’t tell you right now—my shoulder is contused and I’m cold. Get me warm and I’ll be fine.”

“You’re not in charge here, Dr. Masters,” Evyn said sharply. She shivered violently and her eyes glazed before she blinked them back into focus.

“I’m the senior medical officer,” Wes said. “And you’re verging on hypothermia. Gary—she needs to get out of that wetsuit and get warmed up.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Gary said. “Evyn, you heard the captain. Get below and strip down. The extra thermals are in the bulkhead.”

“Don’t pull rank on me, Wes,” Evyn said.

With her good hand, Wes unsnapped the buckle holding the band across her chest and pushed up until she was sitting in the litter. “I wouldn’t need to if you listened to reason.” Her head swirled, but she fought down a wave of nausea. Her shoulder ached, but sensation had returned to her fingers and her arm was moving again. Stiff and sore, but mobile. “I’ve had worse playing rugby.”

“That’s not in your personnel file.”

Wes grinned. “Not everything is in there, don’t you know that?”

Cord’s voice cut through the rush of wind. “Let’s finish this pissing contest onshore. Can I release the chopper?”

“Yes,” Wes said, “as soon as the president is transferred up.”

“You’re going too,” Evyn said.

“If I needed to go—which I don’t—we’d wait for another chopper. POTUS is the priority. We do this by the book.”

“The exercise is over.”

“I’m not grandstanding, Evyn,” Wes said quietly, holding Evyn’s gaze, letting Evyn see for herself she was okay and thinking rationally. “I wouldn’t risk it if I thought there was a bigger problem, but I want to end this mission on my feet.”

The glacial blue of Evyn’s eyes softened and she nodded to Cord. “Send up the president’s litter.” She crouched by Wes, her face all Wes could see. “But when we get back to land, I want to check you over myself.”

“Deal.” Wes pulled the thermal blanket they’d placed over her more tightly around her shoulders. “Go get out of that suit.”

Evyn grinned weakly. “No argument.”

Wes waited until Evyn disappeared down the hatch before saying to Gary, “Make sure she gets something hot into her. She expended a lot of energy out there.”

Gary handed her a steaming thermos. “Tea. I’ll get hers next.”

“Thanks.” Wes sipped the blessedly hot liquid and closed her eyes. The mission had very nearly been derailed by the accident, and when they wrote up the report, they’d have to explain exactly how that had happened—and who, if anyone, was responsible.

*

“Showers are down the hall on the right,” Cord said as the group hurried into the rescue station. She waved Jeff and Gary on and turned to Evyn and Wes. “The first order of business is for the two of you to get warmed up.”

“Go ahead,” Evyn said to Wes. “You feel steady enough?”

“Yes, I’m fine. Some heat and dry clothes and I’ll be good to go. You need to hit the showers too, Agent Daniels.”

“Gary went to get our gear from the car—I’ll get it and be there in a second.”

“All right. Thanks.” Wes left quickly and Evyn squelched the urge to follow immediately.

The distance in Wes’s voice was nearly as chilling as the water had been. Evyn couldn’t tell if Wes’s aloof reserve hid anger, pain, or criticism, but the wintery expression in Wes’s eyes left her feeling abandoned. The stab of loneliness was as frightening as it was unexpected.

“You okay?” Cord said softly.

“What?” Evyn focused on Cord, read her concern. “Yeah. You weren’t kidding about riptides. Freaking strong, and freaking cold.”

“The weather’s changing fast. We’re in for a blow. Maritime reports say we’re looking at snow up and down the coast.”

“The water sure felt like it dropped twenty degrees.”

“In some parts of the current, it probably had—cold water pulled up to the surface by changes in the wind and air pressure.” Cord grimaced. “I’m really sorry I didn’t call off the exercise earlier.”

“Couldn’t be anticipated—or helped,” Evyn said, listening for the distant sound of the shower running. She really wanted to go back and check on Wes. She wasn’t convinced Wes was as steady as she claimed. When she’d finally located her, the powerful current had been pulling Wes hard and fast out to sea. Wes had been spinning, sinking, and she hadn’t been struggling. For a sickening, heart-stopping second, she’d thought she was too late. She couldn’t remember ever being so terrified.

“You want me to get your gear?” Cord asked. “You’re shivering.”

“No.” Evyn ignored the chill spreading along her bones. “As soon as I check with Gary, I’ll shower.”

Cord nodded. “I’ll be in my office.”

“Thanks, Cord.” Evyn turned away, pretending she hadn’t seen the questions, or the concern, in Cord’s eyes. They’d gotten to be friends over the years since she’d first met Cord during her water-rescue certification. Back then, there’d been a tiny spark of interest, but time and distance had made friendship more feasible, and she was glad to have avoided the awkwardness that would have cropped up when they had to work together. Besides, a friendship with no complications was worth a lot more than a hot and heavy—and short-lived—affair. That’s exactly what she should be looking for with Wes—a sound professional friendship, but she couldn’t seem to get her head around that. When she’d seen Wes disappear into the water, the only thing she’d thought about was getting her to safety. She hadn’t thought about the mission or protocol or the fact that they were in the middle of an exercise to rescue the president. None of that had mattered, and that was a big problem.