neon-green one-piece suit
that fit and put it on. Her hostess was waiting for her, wearing a pretty pink
suit and carrying two large towels.
“This will be fun,” Isabelle said. “When we’re through skiing,
we can have lunch on the patio.”
“I’m not putting you out, am I?” Stormy asked.
“No. I was rattling around in this big house with nothing
planned and no one to do anything with. And I promised not to go out on the
water by myself. So you are definitely not putting me out. Just the opposite.”
She looked delighted, so Stormy relaxed for the first time in
many days.
They walked down to the small lake-side marina, topped up the
fuel tanks, got the jet skis ready, put on lifebelts and took off down the
inlet and into the main lake.
It was exhilarating and relaxing. Stormy hadn’t jet skied since
last summer, wearing a dry suit on a cold Idaho lake. Here the water felt warm
and the air even warmer. It was perfect.
Her skin was rough from the dry air, and it felt like it was
breathing in the moisture on its own.
Isabelle was proficient and they jumped each others’ wakes and
did figure eights. Finally Isabelle stopped her craft and Stormy came up beside
her.
“I think that’s it for me,” the older woman said. “You can stay
out longer if you wish.”
“No. I’ll go in, too. No sense overdoing anything.” She needed
to be on her toes when the doctor got back. Not half asleep. “Where’s your
dock?”
“There. See the big yellow windsock on the pole. That’s our
marker, where the inlet is.”
The sound of a speedboat caused Stormy to look behind her. It
was bearing down on them, fast.
“We need to move,” Isabelle shouted. “That nut doesn’t look like
he’s paying attention.”
They started the skis skimming over the water, and veered off to
the right, out of the boat’s pathway.
The boat turned, too.
“Circle,” yelled Stormy, but Isabelle didn’t hear her and went
straight ahead. Stormy tightened her circle until she could get a better view
of the boat, which had continued to turn tightly and was now bearing down on
her.
It intended to ram her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ever since Stormy had avoided the car explosion, she’d been
expecting another attempt. How had they found her out here in Lake Havasu?
Fighting back the urge to panic, she unbuckled her lifebelt and
unhooked the tether kill switch. At the same time she expelled all the air in
her lungs. Took a deep breath, expelled again. Another breath. Out again. Get rid of the used
air.
The boat was less than twenty feet from her when she dove into
the water, straight down, going as deep as she could to avoid the propellers.
Down deep, as if looking for a drowning victim.
Under the boat. The water churned as it passed overhead. She
leveled out and swam underwater as fast as she could away from the area,
staying deep. The neon green of her suit wasn’t made for camouflage.
She could stay down over five minutes after putting fresh air in
her lungs. No
need to panic. Just
swim deep and swim away. She needed to put distance between herself and the speedboat,
which was probably circling, waiting for her to surface.
Had Isabelle made it to shore?
A strong swimmer, Stormy still hadn’t covered much distance when
she was forced to surface. She had expelled all the rest of her air as she
swam, and now lifted her head above the surface just long enough to grab a breath
and get her bearings.
She was headed out toward the middle of the lake. They were
searching closer to shore. If they looked this way, they’d see her.
She dove down again and kept swimming, out toward the middle.
Another breath, straightening out her course. She did this several more times
before she felt comfortable in swimming shallow, just under the surface.
They had enlarged their circle, but were still close to land.
They probably expected her to make for the shore, if she had survived the
impact.
It was hard to see a swimmer in the water. Once she
that fit and put it on. Her hostess was waiting for her, wearing a pretty pink
suit and carrying two large towels.
“This will be fun,” Isabelle said. “When we’re through skiing,
we can have lunch on the patio.”
“I’m not putting you out, am I?” Stormy asked.
“No. I was rattling around in this big house with nothing
planned and no one to do anything with. And I promised not to go out on the
water by myself. So you are definitely not putting me out. Just the opposite.”
She looked delighted, so Stormy relaxed for the first time in
many days.
They walked down to the small lake-side marina, topped up the
fuel tanks, got the jet skis ready, put on lifebelts and took off down the
inlet and into the main lake.
It was exhilarating and relaxing. Stormy hadn’t jet skied since
last summer, wearing a dry suit on a cold Idaho lake. Here the water felt warm
and the air even warmer. It was perfect.
Her skin was rough from the dry air, and it felt like it was
breathing in the moisture on its own.
Isabelle was proficient and they jumped each others’ wakes and
did figure eights. Finally Isabelle stopped her craft and Stormy came up beside
her.
“I think that’s it for me,” the older woman said. “You can stay
out longer if you wish.”
“No. I’ll go in, too. No sense overdoing anything.” She needed
to be on her toes when the doctor got back. Not half asleep. “Where’s your
dock?”
“There. See the big yellow windsock on the pole. That’s our
marker, where the inlet is.”
The sound of a speedboat caused Stormy to look behind her. It
was bearing down on them, fast.
“We need to move,” Isabelle shouted. “That nut doesn’t look like
he’s paying attention.”
They started the skis skimming over the water, and veered off to
the right, out of the boat’s pathway.
The boat turned, too.
“Circle,” yelled Stormy, but Isabelle didn’t hear her and went
straight ahead. Stormy tightened her circle until she could get a better view
of the boat, which had continued to turn tightly and was now bearing down on
her.
It intended to ram her.
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN
Ever since Stormy had avoided the car explosion, she’d been
expecting another attempt. How had they found her out here in Lake Havasu?
Fighting back the urge to panic, she unbuckled her lifebelt and
unhooked the tether kill switch. At the same time she expelled all the air in
her lungs. Took a deep breath, expelled again. Another breath. Out again. Get rid of the used
air.
The boat was less than twenty feet from her when she dove into
the water, straight down, going as deep as she could to avoid the propellers.
Down deep, as if looking for a drowning victim.
Under the boat. The water churned as it passed overhead. She
leveled out and swam underwater as fast as she could away from the area,
staying deep. The neon green of her suit wasn’t made for camouflage.
She could stay down over five minutes after putting fresh air in
her lungs. No
need to panic. Just
swim deep and swim away. She needed to put distance between herself and the speedboat,
which was probably circling, waiting for her to surface.
Had Isabelle made it to shore?
A strong swimmer, Stormy still hadn’t covered much distance when
she was forced to surface. She had expelled all the rest of her air as she
swam, and now lifted her head above the surface just long enough to grab a breath
and get her bearings.
She was headed out toward the middle of the lake. They were
searching closer to shore. If they looked this way, they’d see her.
She dove down again and kept swimming, out toward the middle.
Another breath, straightening out her course. She did this several more times
before she felt comfortable in swimming shallow, just under the surface.
They had enlarged their circle, but were still close to land.
They probably expected her to make for the shore, if she had survived the
impact.
It was hard to see a swimmer in the water. Once she
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