“I appreciate your concern,” Wes said quietly, “but I’m not a squid, you know.”

Evyn laughed. “I know. But I bet it’s been a long time since you’ve had that kind of dunking.”

Sighing, Wes pushed upright. “True.” She closed her eyes. “And I do have a little orthostatic hypotension.”

Instantly, Evyn forgot about everything except making sure Wes was stable. She took her pressure again. “Seventy over fifty. You’re a little dizzy, aren’t you?”

“Just a little.”

“Okay.” Evyn rose briskly. “We’re spending the night in Kitty Hawk. You’re going to get some hot food into you and twelve hours’ sleep.”

Wes frowned. “I can sleep in DC. The trip back isn’t that long.”

“Sorry, I’m not taking a chance on you decompensating on an airplane. Food, sleep, home tomorrow.”

“Should I ask who left you in charge?”

Wes sounded grumpy, which only proved she wasn’t at the top of her game. Evyn had never seen her disgruntled by anything.

“I’m only in charge by default, Captain,” Evyn said softly. “I set up that exercise. It’s my fault you went in today. I’m going to see you make it home, safe and sound.”

“That’s bullshit. The cable snapped. It was an accident.”

“It could’ve been worse.” Evyn shuddered inwardly. Wes had been on her way down when she’d reached her. She couldn’t even think about that without feeling as if pieces of her were going to tear apart and shatter like glass on the rocks. “No matter what you think, I need to take care of you right now.”

Wes drew a sharp breath. “I’m not sure how good I’ll be at that—being the patient, I mean.”

“Not used to being taken care of?”

“Not really, no.”

“No one special?” The silence stretched and Evyn waited for the shutters to close again. But Wes just searched her eyes, and Evyn was too tired and worried to hide whatever might show.

“No, no one.”

“Then I guess I’m it tonight,” Evyn said, trying for lightness.

“It might take some getting used to,” Wes said softly. “I might not be any good at it.”

“I doubt there’s anything you aren’t good at.” Evyn packed her gear and bagged their wet clothes. She held out her hand to Wes. “Let’s start practicing and see how you do.”

Wes rose slowly from the bench, wavering ever so slightly. Evyn slid her arm around Wes’s waist. “Okay?”

“Don’t quite have my land legs yet.” Wes let out an exasperated sigh and draped her arm over Evyn’s shoulders. “Just give me a minute.”

“Take all the time you need. We’re not on a schedule tonight.”

Wes’s hand curved around Evyn’s shoulder, the pressure of her fingers shooting tendrils of excitement through Evyn’s chest. Her heart hammered and her legs quivered. She braced her muscles, hoping Wes couldn’t feel her tremble. She planned on taking care of Wes and nothing more.

“Ready to get out of here?” Evyn asked.

“More than ready.” Wes dropped her arm and stepped away. “I think I can make it on my own.”

Evyn missed the contact instantly and said casually, “Never doubted it. Let’s go find a room for the night.”

Wes laughed softly. “More practice?”

“Uh…hell. You think maybe you could cut me some slack? My brain is a little numb here.”

“Well, let’s go get you warmed up.”

Wes reached for the door and pushed it open, and Evyn wondered how the tables had been so neatly turned.

Chapter Nineteen

The neon sign announcing the Bayside Motel blinked erratically, illuminating the L-shaped motor court in flashes of holiday red and green. A mud-spattered black Ford pickup truck and a low-slung eighties Cadillac convertible with big patches of rust-colored primer on the fenders were the only vehicles in the gravel lot. A light burned in the room closest to the road. A hand-painted sign propped in the streaked window proclaimed “Office.”

“Looks like a hot-sheet motel,” Wes said, laughing softly.

“Cord swears this place is clean and makes decent coffee,” Evyn said.

“That’s all we need, then.” Wes didn’t care where they bunked—she’d slept in worse places, including a tent in the Afghan mountains. Compared to that, this rated five stars.

Evyn pulled the rented Jeep into the lot just as the sun went down and the wind came up. “I’ll run in and register.”

When Evyn pushed open the door, the wind clattering through the branches of the red oaks surrounding the motel filled the Jeep with a sound like machine-gun fire. Wes jerked and her stomach lurched. She had been posted to a field hospital close enough to the front to hear the firefights ranging in the hills at night, her tent a poor shield against stray rounds. She’d rarely slept deeply, her body always primed to duck and cover. Even now, eighteen months later, she instinctively looked for cover when a car backfired or a door slammed. She hadn’t been this jittery since she’d returned stateside. The afternoon’s brief unscheduled swim shouldn’t have thrown her equilibrium off so much—maybe her agitation was due to the lingering chill the steaming shower hadn’t dispersed.

Leaning out the open door, Evyn peered up at the sky. “Cord said we might get snow, and I think it’s arrived—blowing in fast. You should stay in the car until I get back. The last thing you need is to get wet again.”

Wes reached across the seat and grabbed Evyn’s sleeve, stopping her from climbing out. “You need to stay dry too.” She handed her North Face jacket to Evyn, who had left the rescue station wearing only jeans and her T-shirt. “This has got a hood. Go ahead, take it.”

“You sure?”

“The heater’s blasting in here. I’m plenty warm. Plenty hungry too.”

Evyn grinned. “Excellent prognostic sign. What do you think about pizza? There’s a place across the street, and I doubt we’ll get anything delivered out here tonight if a storm is coming.”

“Sounds great. Since I already know you’re not a vegetarian, I’ll take pepperoni.”

“Perfect. Mushrooms?”

“And black olives.”

Evyn nodded approvingly. “Nailed it.”

Wes laughed. “How about beer?”

“Sam Adams if I can’t get any kind of microbrew?”

“You nailed it.”

Laughing, Evyn jumped out, shrugged into Wes’s jacket, and flipped up the hood. She slammed the door, shoved her hands in her pockets, and ran through the icy mix of rain and snow, her form briefly outlined by the headlights before she disappeared into the dark. Wes watched a few seconds longer, a strange foreboding churning inside as soon as Evyn vanished from sight. She clasped her hands and put them between her knees. She wasn’t cold, but her fingers were icy. She wondered if that was her imagination. The temperature had fallen rapidly in the face of the approaching storm, but she was used to cold weather. She shivered and peered into the near-empty lot, a creeping unease making her twitch.

Evyn had left the headlights on, and the halos from the slanting beams seemed to be keeping the circle of darkness at bay. She’d never been afraid of the dark and didn’t get spooked by unknown terrain. She was a naval officer and an emergency physician—she was trained to handle imminent danger. The headlights dimmed and the darkness drew closer. Her breath came a little faster and a heaviness pervaded her chest.

She closed her eyes and she was upside down again, swirling in an endless void that sucked her down into cold, dark silence. Gasping, she shot up straight and opened her eyes. Outside her fogged window, the snow fell thicker, a white blanket screening the world from view. She couldn’t see the motel. She couldn’t see where Evyn had gone. Evyn. Evyn was solid and real and warm. She fought the urge to get out of the car and look for her.

“Okay,” Wes whispered aloud, “you know what this is. Fatigue, residual hypothermic confusion, delayed stress reaction. You’re entitled to all of it—for an hour or so.”

Cataloging her symptoms helped relieve the pressure in her chest some. She took a deep breath, heard the faint wheeze of constricted bronchioles. Evyn was right, she wasn’t fit to fly. She needed to replenish the fuel she’d burned off while struggling against the killer current. She needed to sleep. Evyn had to be in nearly the same shape—she’d been in the water almost as long. And she’d fought the current for both of them.

The car door opened and Wes jumped. Evyn dropped into the seat beside her.

“Okay,” Evyn said, wiping traces of melting snow from her cheeks with one hand. “I called over for pizza and they said it would be ready in fifteen. We can get settled and I’ll run over and get it.”

“Maybe we should forget that,” Wes said, her voice sounding hoarse and foreign.

Evyn backed the Jeep out of the slot and headed farther into the lot. The long, low motel came into view again as she coasted forward. “Why? I thought you were hungry?”

Wes swiped at her forehead. She wasn’t hot, but she was sweating. She wasn’t cold, but she was shivering. “Sorry. I—”

“What’s going on?” Evyn stopped in front of a green metal door just barely visible through the falling flakes. A cockeyed 12 made from white stick-on, glow-in-the-dark numbers identified the room. She downshifted into neutral and pulled the parking brake, leaving the lights on. “You okay?”

“Yes—sorry. Just jumpy. Sorry.”

Evyn rested her palm on the back of Wes’s neck. Her fingers were hot as banked coals. “Nothing unusual. You had a hell of a shock earlier.”

“So did you. You need to stay warm and eat and—”

“Hey,” Evyn said. “That’s all in the plan, Doc. You can relax. Really.”

“I know. You’re right. I’ll be fine.” Wes closed her eyes and let her head fall back into the secure cradle of Evyn’s hand. Evyn’s fingers glided up and down the muscles on either side of her spine, easing the tension, sending warmth through her. She sighed. “I don’t think the weather is going to get any better. We ought to make a run for it.”