Page 120 of Rescuing You

She nodded, unable to speak for the fear clogging her throat.

Jasmine called, “Thank you.” As frightened as she’d been before, and as demanding as Michael had been of her, Jasmine wasn’t holding a grudge.

Leila shouldn’t either.

Michael splashed back out of the water, grabbed a dry life jacket, and eased it over Leila’s head.

It was thick and, while not uncomfortable, not exactly a cozy sweatshirt. She squeezed one of the compartments, just to be sure, and felt the hard foam beneath. Not newspaper. Of course. Michael knew what he was doing.

He attached the clips and tightened them, his hands moving deftly, tenderly. “How’s that? Okay?”

“It’s fine.”

“There’s a strap that goes between your legs. I’ll let you reach for it.” He tugged an open clip. “It goes here. It doesn’t need to be too tight. We just want it to keep the jacket from coming off.”

“I can do it.”

He turned to Jasmine, who’d already donned her own orange accessory. He ensured all the straps were snug.

Leila was surprised that he continued to wear his. “I thought you said you can swim?”

“I’m a strong swimmer,” he said. “But there’s no sense not wearing something that’ll keep me above water. If we go in, I’ll be glad I have it.”

Leila’s heart raced. Would they go in?

Again, she flashed back to that day in the river.

Michael must’ve seen the alarm in her expression, because he added, “It’s just a precaution.”

She would swear the waves had grown taller since they’d arrived on the coast. From the hotel room in Antalya, the rhythm of the surf had been soothing, but now, to try to float atop it…

This was madness.

But Michael tossed his pack into the gray raft, then dragged the boat away from the rocks, where it bobbed and bounced.

She tried to get up the nerve to follow but couldn’t make herself move.

Jasmine linked her arm with Leila’s. “We can do this. He will deliver us safely.”

“I know.” She did. At least, her brain did.

Her stomach had other ideas.

And her feet were telling her to run.

Jasmine started forward, but Leila pulled her back. “Don’t. We will be washed away.”

Before Jasmine could argue, Michael called, “Stay there. I’ll get you.” He splashed back to shore, holding a rope extending to the death trap. He stopped in front of Jasmine. “Ready?”

Jasmine unhooked her arm from Leila’s, and he scooped her up and carried her to the raft. He plopped her inside. It looked barely large enough for one person, much less three. Jasmine crawled to the front and sat with her back to the rounded side, facing shore. She and Michael spoke, but Leila couldn’t hear above the splashing water.

Or maybe it was the fear rushing through her mind.

Michael returned and stopped in front of her. “You got this.”

“I don’t.”

He reached out and drew her close.