Chapter 9

On the boat, Fletcher watched the screen in horror as Kiara disappeared beneath the waves. The connection cut out. He threw the phone against the wall.

He raced to the docks, his mind a chaotic whirl. He had to get to her. He had to save her.

He jumped into the cold, dark water, the shock of it taking his breath away. He swam frantically, his eyes scanning the black surface. "Kiara!" he screamed, his voice raw with a panic he'd never felt before.

Aislinn, who had been rescued by the Coast Guard after the gunman was apprehended, watched from the shore. She saw him dive in after Kiara, and a cold, hard knot of jealousy tightened in her stomach. Why? Why would he risk his life for that worthless substitute?

The sea was a black, churning void. Fletcher dove again and again, his lungs burning. He searched until his limbs were numb, until his body gave out. There was nothing. Just the endless, empty water.

She was gone.

He finally realized it, a truth so sharp and painful it felt like a physical blow. She was gone, and it was his fault.

He saw her face in the dark water, her eyes wide with betrayal as he'd pushed her toward the gunman. He heard his own voice choosing Aislinn over her.

He had killed her.

The thought made him retch, salt water and bile burning his throat. He finally lost consciousness, his body surrendering to the cold and the grief.

He woke up in the hospital, the familiar smell of antiseptic assaulting his senses. Aislinn was there, her face a mask of concern.

"Fletcher, thank God you're okay," she cried, trying to hug him.

He pushed her away, his eyes wild. "Where is she? Where's Kiara?"

"They're still searching..." Aislinn began, but he wasn't listening.

He ripped the IV from his arm and stormed out of the room, ignoring the shouts of doctors and nurses. He had to find her. He had to. He wouldn't believe she was gone until he held her in his arms again.

He spent the next month at the coast, directing a massive search operation. He poured millions of dollars into it, hiring the best divers, using the most advanced sonar technology.

They found nothing. Not a trace.

"Sir, we've searched every inch of this coastline," his head of security reported, his face grim. "There's nothing. It's been a month. No one could survive that long."

"I don't care!" Fletcher roared, his voice cracking. "I want her found! Dead or alive, I want her found!"

He expanded the search, his obsession growing with each passing day. He refused to give up. He couldn't.