Swept Away (Wildfire Lake #3) - Skye Jordan Page 0,1

I yell to be heard over the quickly intensifying wind. “Come on.”

“Do you know where the other woman is? KT?” she yells over her shoulder, hair whipping around her head and into her face. “Is she sick or something?”

“She probably decided to join another group.”

She turns her gaze toward the ocean and yells something I only catch in pieces. “I saw…tide pools…scuba gear…session started.”

I check on the other women, who are all up the stairs and nearing the resort, then start back down the steps. I have to collect my hair and secure it back into a bun so I can see.

When I reach Laiyla, I take her arm. “We need to get inside.”

“Have you ever been diving?” she asks, staring at the waves with an intense, worried frown. “How long will her air tank last? Long enough to ride out this storm?”

I put her earlier words together with these and realize Laiyla believes KT went diving. The idea is sobering. “I’ve been, but I can’t remember how long a tank of air lasts.”

The emergency alarm makes both Laiyla and me jump. “This is a severe storm warning.” The tinny, mechanical voice comes between siren calls. “Return to the resort and shelter in place.”

More mechanical wails follow the announcement. Laiyla finally relents and turns toward the resort just as the clouds unleash a torrent of rain. I’m a few steps higher, hand gripping the iron railing, so the wind doesn’t pick me up and carry me off like a kite. When I glance back to check on Laiyla, I find her skipping down the steps toward the ocean.

What the hell?

“Laiyla!” I raise my voice, but the wind swallows my word.

Before I can decide what to do next, a huge wave curls toward the tide pool shelves. I drop the meditation pillow and grab hold of the railing with both hands. The wind is so strong, I swear it lifts me off my feet for a terrifying second. The wave crashes like thunder and shakes the ground under my feet.

My gaze is drawn to a dark spot in the tide pools, one that wasn’t there earlier. Then it moves, tossing off fins and scaling along the rocks like a hermit crab. It’s KT, in a wet suit, her scuba tank still attached to her back.

Another wave crests behind KT, a gigantic, furious wave that’s going to pound her into the tide pools like a hammer. A vise grips my chest.

“Look out!” Laiyla’s scream to KT is instantly swallowed by the storm.

I watch in disbelief, my hands bloodless on the railing, completely powerless to do anything but witness the wrath of Mother Nature.

The next wave hits KT like the last, swallowing her. Horror flows through my blood like acid.

KT surfaces, only to be lashed and thrown by the waves, then dumped back on the tide pools so hard, she bounces—once, twice, then lies there motionless for what feels like minutes, but is, in reality, only seconds.

Laiyla drops her pillows and runs down the stairs, toward the ocean. Bile rises in my throat, and my screams for Laiyla to stop barely exit my mouth. I’m soaked to the bone in warm rain.

KT is on her feet again, working her way toward the stairway where Laiyla positions herself to meet KT. Before the women can meet, another wave rises. KT lunges for the last post in the stairway railing, and Laiyla runs back up the stairs to escape the ocean’s reach.

The power of the sea rumbles through the rock and shakes the island. When the water recedes, I’m shocked to see KT still clinging to the railing.

Laiyla runs back down and grabs a handful of KT’s wet suit. I take two steps toward them before the next wave crests. Just when I don’t think I can be any more terrified, they both disappear beneath the water.

I choke out a scream and grip the rail with both hands.

They’re gone. They’re dead. There’s no way they could survive.

The horror of losing these two women ravages my heart. The wind deafens and blinds me, and I hide my head between my arms. Debris flies from every direction, pelting me again and again.

Clearly, a miracle is required to save them. I put every ounce of my soul into a quick prayer. Archangel Michael, keep them safe. Bring them back.

Michael is the badass of archangels. The big guns. When I need something that seems impossible, I call on Michael.

I chance a glance as the wave recedes, terrified the prayer