Lifeboat Love Read online

  5

  Tad tried to think of how to bring it up without quite bringing it up. “Haven’t seen much of the girls lately.” Okay, subtle was never his best play. Subtle as a bull in heat, Paw had always said of him all the way back to T-ball days. Tad had ruled first base, the hot spot in T-ball.

  “Suzy is a pain in the behind,” though Craig didn’t sound very put out by it. He held out a hand for the wrench he’d asked Tad to hold. He was up on a ladder with his head inside the engine cowling of their HH-65 Dolphin rescue helo checking that all of the fittings were tight.

  Tad ignored the waving hand and practiced twirling the wrench back and forth through his fingers. It was a move he could do in his sleep.

  Craig extracted himself enough from the open cowling to look down at Tad from the top of the step ladder. “Uh-oh! I know that look.”

  “What look?”

  “The one while you’re thinking. You’re a swimmer, Tad, just give it up and accept that your brain isn’t your best asset.”

  Tad twirled the wrench a few more times just out of Craig’s reach to prove that he had skills. He mis-timed Craig’s reach and accidentally smacked his knuckles rather than slapping it into his crew chief’s palm.

  “Ow! Crap! Well, at least that proves my point.”

  “What point?” A voice asked from behind him.

  Tad swung around to stare at Tabby standing right in his six. And he hadn’t even felt her there. She was absolutely screwing with his situational awareness. Her golden hair was all stirred up. He could hear the wind that had done it, slamming against the hangar, and told himself not to reach out to smooth it back into place though his fingers ached to do so.

  “Helo engine? Cool!” And Suzy scrambled up the back side of Craig’s ladder until she was standing chest to chest with him, but all of her attention was on the engine. Or at least she was making Craig think so.

  True to form, Craig fell for it and didn’t notice the lush female practically pressed against him. Instead, he began walking her through the engine.

  Tad wasn’t quite so dense, and turned back to Tabby. “Where’ve you been hiding?” Still had apparently left all his smooth back in Iowa.

  “I’ve been wondering something. How does a US Coast Guard swimmer end up coming from Iowa?” Tabby answered his question with a question.

  “Lifeguard at the beach some.”

  “They have beaches in Iowa?”

  “Aw, sure. Mine musta been most of a hundred feet long. Swimming hole dug out of the field by Old Man Jasper just off 1st Street.”

  “So, major surf wasn’t a big deal.” Damn but the woman had a great smile, slow and trending just a little sideways. Craig and Suzy had sealed up the engine cowling and were now inside the helo going over who cared about what.

  “If you don’t count when Fat Steve did cannonballs off the diving board, not so much. But I mighta also spent some summers with my uncle, a Coronado Beach SEAL. He had this thing about swimming skills.” He was the one who’d taught Tad how to dream bigger than a haystack or a wheat field. It had set his future path forever apart from his Adair classmates and Tad blessed him every day for that.

  That pulled out Tabby’s rare laugh. Suzy was always on the edge of one, bursting forth at the least provocation—even now sounding from behind him. Tabby’s was shy as a newborn barn cat, always lurking half out of sight.

  “Where did you get your taste for water?”

  “Local, remember?”

  He smacked his forehead. Born and raised along the Columbia, looking out at some of the most beautiful and absolutely the most dangerous water in the world.

  “Okay, local. So, where you been, local lady? Checking out old high school boyfriends?” Please say no. She was here at the airport, wasn’t she?

  “Oh sure. All of the most eligible guys in the world were born and raised right here in Astoria. You know all the ones who don’t work the boats work the fryer at McDonald’s, right? So we’ve been hanging at McD’s big time. Nothing else to do in this town.” Her final grimace spoke volumes. He’d bet that she and Suzy had spent many high school afternoons doing just that.

  “Wouldn’t know about that. Adair was too small for a Macs. We’ve got Zipp’s Pizza and the Chuckwagon. Oh, I think they’ve got a Subway now. All the hot babes in Iowa work at Subway, you know.”

  “Maybe we should introduce them. All your farmer girls and all our lame-o non-fisher boys.”

  “Deal,” he reached out and she shook on it. Despite sitting knee-to-knee several times at Workers, it was the first time they’d actually touched. Her hand felt small and feminine in his, despite its strength. Rather than letting go, he turned it and looked down. “Someone’s been fighting the grime.” Embedded dark around the joints, and under chipped nails; good calluses, too. About the nicest hands he’d ever met.

  “You’ve never seen six motor lifeboats as clean and shiny as the six at Cape D.”

  “They working you too hard?” He teased her a bit.

  “Got this Boatswain’s Mate thinks I should know every bolt of the boat and is shocked that I don’t.”

  “Right, ’cause you’ve been here like seven whole days. He sounds like a hard ass.”

  “She, and you have no idea. I want to be just like her when I grow up.”

  No question who she was talking about. Sarah Goodwin’s reputation was totally solid. “Not gonna find a better instructor than Sarah anywhere in the Coast Guard.”

  “If I survive it.” But Tabby’s smile as she recovered her hand said she was totally down with the challenge.

  He’d never been much of hand holder, but he could feel the memory of her fingers curled up in his palm like a fresh-hatched chick.

  6

  Tabby’s phone rang loud; made her jump. She didn’t like letting anything show when she was surprised, but her mind had drifted as Tad held her hand. The raw power of the man was amazing. She could feel every bit of his immense strength—yet his control as well. He’d held her hand like he’d never let go, but not with some overtight grip.

  “Hi. This is Tabby.”

  There was a brief pause. “This live Tabby, or recording Tabby?” BM1 Sarah Goodwin asked sharply.

  “Live version.” She really had to change how she answered the phone. She got that question all the time.

  “Good. Where are you two?”

  “Coast Guard helo hangar in Astoria.”

  “God damn it all to hell!” The vitriol was lethal.

  “We were cleared off base, Bosun.” Tabby replied carefully, hopefully a fair defense.

  “I’m down a crew member and we’ve got an imminent rescue. Figured between you two that you could cover for him. How fast can you get here? Shit. Never mind. Forty minutes. I’m screwed and stuck at the dock.”

  Ten miles line-of-sight was a slow twenty-mile drive through town and then over the tall Astoria-Megler Bridge.

  Even as Sarah fumed, the two pilots came rushing in. Maybe they’d gotten the rescue call as well.

  Tabby had an idea. Just maybe… “Hold on, Sarah.”

  “For what?”

  Tabby didn’t answer, instead she listened.

  “How fast can we get aloft?” Sly called out.

  She liked that Tad and Craig barely had to exchange a glance before they answered in unison, “Three minutes.”

  “Do it! Your bird, Ham, get us spinning.”

  Tad had already stripped off his shirt as he headed to the equipment rack at the side of the hangar. Moments later he was down to tighty-whities. She knew that rescue swimmers were among the most fit of anyone in any service, but seeing it spelled out in rippling muscle across his back, butt, and legs was…

  Her mind blanked.

  “I know that look,” Sly spoke up close beside her. “Hell, if I weren’t straight and married, I’d be all over that.” He bumped his shoulder against hers, then turned for his helo.

  “Captain…Uh…” Tabby couldn’t remember his last name. Suzy would know, of course, but she was busy watching Hammond doing the engine startup procedure.

  “Captain Uh, that’s me.” Sly stopped and smiled at her.

  “Sorry about that, sir. This is a bit presumptuous.”

  “Better ask quick, we’re on the bounce.” But he wasn’t brushing her off.

  “Our Bosun, Petty Officer Goodwin, is down a crew member. I’m guessing she got the same call you did. She’s asked how fast we could get there.”

  “That her?” Sly pointed toward the phone that Tabby had completely forgotten she was holding.

  Sly slipped it out of her fingers. “Sarah? Sly here. We’re aloft in two; you’ll have your crew in five. You owe me.” He handed back the phone without waiting for an answer and waved her toward the helo’s cargo bay with a grin.

  “We’re on our way, Sarah,” she said into the phone even as she waved Suzy aboard.

  “So I heard. Done good. Keep surprising me, Seaman.” She hit the last word hard to remind Tabby not to be too uppity in using her given name, then PO Goodwin was gone.

  Tabby climbed aboard mere seconds ahead of Tad in full swimmer’s gear. He now wore form-hugging International Orange neoprene, with an inflatable life vest and a small utility belt. Fins and a snorkel stuck out of a gear bag as he tugged on his helmet.

  The transformation was magical. In such simple gear, he was now headed out to jump into the rough waters of the Pacific Ocean to save other people’s lives. He looked…amazing!

  “How far you going with us, Tabby?” He asked happily as he settled in his seat against the rear bulkhead.

  “Just as far as Cape D.”

  Suzy grinned and rolled her eyes at her.

  “Oh.” Somewhere along the way she’d become the perfect fall girl for a stra
ight line. But she hadn’t been best friends with Suzy for over eighteen years and learned nothing. “Depends on how far you want to go, Swimmer.” It wasn’t the smoothest recovery, but it worked. Also, once she said it, it felt surprisingly true.

  He burst out laughing as the helo lifted and Craig slammed the side doors shut. “Stick with the straight lines, pretty lady. They fit you way better.”

  Okay, hopefully her crew skills would be better than her so-not-Suzy flirt skills.

  7

  Tad saw the change come over her. Something shifted after he hit her with that off-hand tease.

  She sat straighter. Gave a half nod to herself as she tugged her t-shirt smooth. She’d tried to flirt a little, and it hadn’t fit her at all. Just not the person she was. Not that she was bad at it; she’d delivered the line perfectly and definitely sent his imagination to some very nice places.

  But it didn’t fit his image of her.

  And if he was reading her face right—he’d become a good judge of expressions in all of his rescues—it abruptly didn’t fit her own image of herself either. Not even a little.

  He glanced at Suzy. She was looking at Tabby, they were sitting almost knee-to-knee on the cargo bay deck, but she wasn’t seeing it. Suzy should be the one he was attracted to. Flirty and funny. Smart, but not real interested in deeper thought.

  No question but Tabby was a deep thinker. And it looked as if she just pulled it on like a skin tighter than his wetsuit.

  Ham barely hesitated as the girls dumped out at Cape D. Back in the air, Tad watched them sprinting down the dock toward one of the boats.

  He also noticed that Craig had slid his own seat, mounted on a side-to-side rail at the front of the cabin, so that he too could watch them run.

  “What do ya think, buddy boy?”

  Craig shook his head bemused. “Swears she never looked at a turboshaft engine before, but she just…got it. Somewhere inside that lovely woman is a very sharp mechanic.”

  Tad snorted. “That’s you all over. A crew chief first and a man ninety-third. Bet you didn’t even notice her pressing her chest against you up on that ladder.”

  Craig grinned at him. “I noticed plenty. A ladder is just a little precarious for what ideas she brought to mind. Noticed you were actually holding Tabby’s hand without dragging her off to the nearest closet.”

  “Maybe,” he shrugged. It didn’t sound like him.

  Then Sly came on the intercom. “If you two love birds can get some focus, we have a ship collision about ten miles northwest.”

  They spent the next couple minutes, as the helo raced out to sea, going over what little information was available. A fishing trawler and a coastal container ship had rammed one another in the wide-open ocean.

  Neither was expected to stay afloat long.

  The thick fog that always lay offshore had enveloped the wreck. It delayed them finding it for five painfully long minutes before they arrived above the tangled mess.

  Tad had jumped crabbing boats off Alaska and sailboats caught in a nor’easter, but never in such weird weather. Clear blue skies above and out to the horizon. The tall Cascade Range stood out sharply against the summer sky. Below? Blowing thirty knots in a dense fog layer lumping over twenty-foot swells.

  Looking off to either side, the sea was invisible past a few hundred meters.

  Straight down, it was a disaster.

  A typical fishing trawler might have merely damaged the container ship as it was sliced in two. No such luck, the cargo ship had rammed a fifty-meter stern trawler right up the kazoo. Rather than the bow just cutting the trawler in two, the trawler had been stout enough to sheer much of the bow off the container ship before it succumbed. The trawler was in two halves, with one of the halves already missing, probably at the bottom of the sea. And the container ship was nose-down with the foredeck awash.

  Dozens of forty-foot steel shipping containers—maybe hundreds hiding within the fog—were floating about the two wrecked ships. The swells banged them together creating a floating hazard like none he’d ever seen.

  “Where the hell do we begin?” Ham called over the radio.

  Tad studied it for longer than his usual ten or so seconds. Long enough for Craig to make a worried sound.

  The plan of attack was up to the rescue swimmer.

  “How long to the next helo arriving?”

  “Fifteen minutes,” Sly reported. “About the same as the first MLBs.”

  There were rafts floating among the containers, bright orange dots. Here and there were tiny specks of crewmen in the water. They all were at risk from the debris.

  Even as he watched, a pair of containers were thrown together so hard that he could hear the metal bang and crumple right over the sound of the Dolphin helo’s twin turboshaft engines and pounding rotor.

  And there were personnel still aboard both ships waving at his bird.

  The Dolphin could pick up seven.

  There were over thirty.

  “The trawler hull is heading down first. Let’s start there.”

  He could feel the desperation of the other seamen as the helo shifted toward the remaining half of the fishing trawler. Not everyone was coming home from this one.

  Senior Chief Vernon had been clear on that. Don’t think. Act! You save every single one you can. Each one you save is one less for the sea.

  The lashing wires and tangled nets of the trawler meant they couldn’t risk winching him down to the deck.

  Craig called the position to Ham.

  After they’d run the pre-swimmer-insertion checklist, all Tad focused on now was even-breathing and the security of his gear.

  When Craig’s slap landed on his shoulder, he launched feet first into the angry wreckage.

  8

  “Oh. My. God.”

  “I don’t think God is helping much on this one,” Sarah answered.

  She and Tabby were standing side-by-side on the flying bridge of the 47-MLB. Suzy was down below checking on the engines. The boat’s two rescue crew were down in the survivors’ cabin—a six-seat watertight compartment directly below their feet. They were fully dressed in wetsuits and probably playing their usual gin rummy despite the rough ride.

  Sarah may have been last off the line by eight minutes, but she’d sliced such a line through the surf over the Columbia River Bar that in the half an hour from Cape D, she was the lead boat.

  “Wreckage at ten o’clock!” Tabby shouted and pointed off the left bow.

  “Good eye,” Sarah backed both engines hard. A container floated just awash, visible only as an incongruous flat spot in the wind-ripped water. “Swimmers ready?”

  How was she supposed to know that?

  Sarah had given them only minimal instructions as they’d raced aboard and yanked on their Mustang onsie float gear.

  The orientation for their first real-world rescue had been brief and to the point. “Engineer got some bad fish and is blowing at both ends with food poisoning. Between you two, you’re covering. Suzy, just keep my boat running. Tabby, you’re my right hand. Don’t even think of doing something without clearing it with me. Either of you ever unhook both of your safety lines at the same time, I’m gonna leave you behind after you’re washed overboard.” End of conversation.

  So, Tabby got ready to go find out if the swimmers were ready. They weren’t rescue swimmers like Tad—technically he was an Aviation Survival Technician. The only way the MLB’s swimmers were allowed off the boat was if they were tied to the MLB on a line. But they were still incredible swimmers.

  She turned and would have fallen over backwards if she hadn’t been harnessed into her seat—they were both standing close behind her.

  “They’re ready,” she reported.

  Sarah may have smiled; she couldn’t have missed Tabby’s flinch.

  “Let’s start with the rafts before one of them gets pancaked,” Sarah shouted over the grinding scrape of a container thrown out of a wave hard enough to peel open the container they’d almost hit. It sank before she could get a look at the contents.

  Tabby held her breath as a sheet of spray plowed across the bridge. Once she’d wiped her eyes, she could see two rafts. The first was closer, and the other was being batted about a floating container. She automatically pointed to the second.