No. He was still going to do it. Trying to keep her breaths even, she glanced at the wheel. She grabbed hold and turned it as far as it would go.
The ship tipped to one side, sending Soliman crashing to the floor. Leila glanced up, just in time to see a wall of rock race toward the ship.
Boom.
The vessel shook violently. It tipped forward, flinging Leila from the chair. She slid across the floor and threw out her arms, lodging herself in the doorway. The boat groaned, hanging on by a thread.
Then it fell.
She grit her teeth as water rushed toward her. There was only a second for her to suck in a quick lungful of air before she was thrown beneath the surface.
For a moment, she couldn’t see anything. She couldn’t feel anything but the burning in her lungs, desperate for a breath.
She forced her eyes open. The salt water stung, but somehow, she had been pulled away from the boat. She turned her gaze toward the surface. It looked so far away. A wavy white circle shimmered overhead. Leila reached for it, her lungs on fire.
She wanted to scream. She couldn’t hold it much longer. The pain was unbearable. Her lungs were going to burst.
A red cloud billowed around her. She reached for the sun until her vision turned gray, her arms grew weak, her legs stopped kicking, and everything faded to black.
CHAPTER 40
Why are there so many stairs? Xander took one staircase after the other. Then ran down one hallway after the other, and probably searched a few he had already seen before. Soon, he was joined by two more officers, who seemed just as confused as he was.
He stopped to look into every door that would open. A massive warehouse full of artifacts. An archaeology lab. Storage rooms filled with even more artifacts. The place had a thousand times more than the Egyptian and British museums put together. But there was no time to stop and stare in awe of the treasures.
There was still no sign of Leila.
She could be hiding somewhere, thinking she was in trouble. Or she could be trying to find an escape. Or she could be dead. His chest tightened with worry. She was so close. He should have been able to find her by now.
His pulse thundered as he jogged down another hallway. Even though there seemed to be no end to the dark labyrinth, he could sense that he was deep inside the island. And yet neither Leila nor Soliman were anywhere to be found.
The pounding of an officer’s feet came from behind him. The man stopped and held up a set of flippers. “Just checked the next level down.” He pointed behind him. “Found some used scuba gear.”
Xander nodded, his pulse picking up speed. Leila must have used a pair to reach the island. While those flippers could be hers, Soliman’s, or Montu’s—although, there had been no sign of him yet—it seemed most likely that if she were trying to escape, she would head back for her gear.
“All right. I’ll go down there and look some more. How about you start opening more of these locked doors?” He walked past the officer and jogged down the hall, testing doors along the way. A map would have been great. Keys too.
He reached the stairwell and took the steps to the landing below. The stairs continued farther down, but he went to the door, certain that was where the officer had found the scuba gear. Before he stepped into the hallway, echoes rang up the stairwell. He paused and turned. The arguing voices weren’t soldiers. The intonation was pleading, stressed, the pitch feminine.
Abandoning his plan to search for scuba gear, he hurried down the rest of the stairs until he reached another door. It opened into a cave tall enough to fit a house or two inside. Wooden steps led down to the dock, where a guard lay dead. Then to the dark figure at the edge, dwarfed by the yacht pulling away.
Leila.
Just as he shouted for her to stop, she jumped into the water.
What is she doing?
The two officers joined him in the doorway, complaining they couldn’t get a radio signal. Xander called out Leila’s name, ran down the steps, and pounded across the dock. His voice seemed to get lost in the rumble of the boat engine as she held on to a dangling rope. Something wasn’t right. He studied the movements in the wheelhouse, recognizing Soliman’s silhouette.
He scanned the dock, overlooking the unmoving guard, but the yacht had been the only boat there. His only other choice was to jump in and swim after them. With one useless arm and all his gear, that wouldn’t go well. The yacht sailed around a corner and vanished from sight.
“I need to board that boat,” Xander said to the soldier next to him, then turned and started the trek back to the top.
Two helicopters still circled the island when he emerged from the tunnels. Jones was the first officer he found pacing the patio, on the phone.
“Soliman and Leila are leaving by boat,” Xander panted.
Jones nodded, then barked an order into his walkie-talkie.
One of the helicopters turned and thundered toward them. It slowly lowered, the wind from the rotating blades blasting Xander’s face, the roar of the machine filling his ears, then hovered just above the ground so Xander and Jones could jump on board. Once they were both inside, it lifted off again. Xander’s gaze scanned the angry waves below, his heart thudding furiously.
“Vessel located,” one officer’s voice crackled over the headphones. The helicopter leaned into a curve, heading toward the white speck in the water.
Xander watched from the open doorway, the fierce wind whipping his uniform. The yacht sped along the side of the island, the cliff face towering above it. Then, as he watched, it made a right turn and picked up speed, heading straight for the wall of rock.
No!
The helicopter dropped just as the boat smashed into the cliff.
No, no, no!
“Mayday,” another officer’s voice crackled. “Vessel has capsized.”
As they sank toward the water, Xander’s gaze anchored on the wreckage. The boat had flipped to its side, the back end already completely submerged, the helm pointed toward the sky.
He set his jaw, then wriggled into a harness, sending stabbing pain shooting through his shoulder. Ignoring it, he grabbed the rappel line. The helicopter continued to lower until it hovered fifteen feet over the yacht. Metal hooks clinked as he latched them onto his uniform. With a nod to the pilot, he jumped.
He shot toward the boat. Using his good arm, he clamped down on the line, slowing his descent, until his boots landed firmly on top of the wheelhouse window with a hollow bang. Leaning forward to keep his balance, he looked over the smooth white surface of the side of the boat. Leila and Soliman were nowhere in sight. He looked down, squinting to see through the glass, but the wheelhouse was full of water.
