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Christmas In The Cove
Carol Ross
Nobody is going to hurt her—not on his watchA DEA stealth mission has brought Coast Guard Lt. Commander Eli Pelletier home. But when he ends up aiding rescue swimmer Aubrey Wynn during her own harrowing mission, powerful emotions reignite between them. Except Aubrey doesn’t want Eli’s protection. She wants answers.Twelve years ago, Eli broke up with Aubrey without telling her the real reason he was leaving Pacific Cove. How can he try for a second chance if he’s forced to deceive her again? Amid suspected drug trafficking and a sabotaged Christmas contest, Eli must find a way to regain Aubrey’s trust without compromising his career or endangering the woman he loves.
Nobody is going to hurt her—not on his watch
A DEA stealth mission has brought coast guard Lt. Commander Eli Pelletier home. But when he ends up aiding rescue swimmer Aubrey Wynn during her own harrowing mission, powerful emotions reignite between them. Except Aubrey doesn’t want Eli’s protection. She wants answers.
Twelve years ago, Eli broke up with Aubrey without telling her the real reason he was leaving Pacific Cove. How can he try for a second chance if he’s forced to deceive her again? Amid suspected drug trafficking and a sabotaged Christmas contest, Eli must find a way to regain Aubrey’s trust without compromising his career or endangering the woman he loves.
“Eli, I’ve been in the coast guard for ten years. This is a difficult and demanding profession we’re in.”
Aubrey leaned back and stretched her long, shapely legs in front of her.
He could so easily entangle his feet with hers.
“Rewarding, too, of course,” she added. “But hard.”
“That it is.”
He reached out and slowly removed the paper from her hands. His sole purpose in doing so was to feel her soft, warm skin against his. He had to touch her even as he knew he needed to quit stealing these moments. He needed to find a place where they could peacefully coexist, one that didn’t include touching her and wanting to kiss her.
She watched him, her green eyes all soft and bright and full of questions, and...and he knew he wasn’t imagining the desire swimming in their mossy green depths. Twelve years may have passed, but that was a look a man could never forget.
Dear Reader (#ulink_a972499f-5d44-5910-a956-ab2abada7296),
Before writing this book, I had a tremendous amount of respect and admiration for the United States Coast Guard and the brave men and women who serve. As my research progressed, all of that changed.
Now I am more of a fanatic. I share stories I’ve read with family and friends about the incredible courage, dedication, loyalty and strength these people possess. I talk about how grateful I am for their service, and how lucky we are here in the USA to have the coast guard patrolling our waterways and executing some of the most dangerous and difficult search-and-rescue missions in the world.
Creating characters who embody these traits, the ones that appear to be inherent in the real-life heroes, without making them “too good” was a bit of a challenge. There was also the delicate matter of trying to soften the edges of the strong, competitive, type A personalities I knew they had to have. They fought me on both of these points and several others. In fact, whenever I tried to mold them into something convenient for me, they would protest (as type A personalities are wont to do).
Finally, I just let Aubrey and Eli tell me their story. I was so happy when I discovered there was room in this little book for both their big personalities. And thrilled when I saw how it made their love that much bigger, too.
Please check out my website, carolrossauthor.com (http://carolrossauthor.com), for social media contacts, updates and links to some excellent and informative books about the coast guard and some of their heroic rescues.
All my best,
Carol
Christmas in the Cove
Carol Ross
www.millsandboon.co.uk (http://www.millsandboon.co.uk)
CAROL ROSS lives in the Pacific Northwest with her husband and two dogs. She is a graduate of Washington State University. When not writing, or thinking about writing, she enjoys reading, running, hiking, skiing, traveling and making plans for the next adventure to subject her sometimes reluctant but always fun-loving family to.
I happily dedicate this book to Alec Cadan Benson.
For many reasons—not the least of which is because he has the coolest name in the world (you’re welcome).
And to Ethan Benson, who is always up for a brainstorming session. Thank you!
Contents
Cover (#uba056af7-8164-57bb-b6db-91e91977ba24)
Back Cover Text (#u4e312fde-173f-5526-ae15-a612249760ef)
Introduction (#u6ce61e37-171b-5b72-b71d-3efc220eaa80)
Dear Reader (#ulink_9a476ca6-b9c6-57af-a164-e4911d34a70e)
Title Page (#u89de6032-fa77-585c-a187-14564b8ae4cd)
About the Author (#u2ff5a8bb-38c6-5f01-9590-9fd4b114bf95)
Dedication (#u7586c01c-394c-55f9-8e44-42800cddc823)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_07fd573f-29a7-51ab-a37e-9dcb4f4d9e4e)
CHAPTER TWO (#ulink_80aa26ef-a366-5595-a1e0-809dc85344db)
CHAPTER THREE (#ulink_ceb5bfc0-373a-5d45-8af3-46d475aa5ca1)
CHAPTER FOUR (#ulink_18fbb48e-136e-5af0-8b69-6a6156a85b06)
CHAPTER FIVE (#ulink_d93724c1-3d05-5747-b8c1-3919e8d32793)
CHAPTER SIX (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHT (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ELEVEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWELVE (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER THIRTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FOURTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER FIFTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SIXTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER SEVENTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER NINETEEN (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE (#litres_trial_promo)
Extract (#litres_trial_promo)
Copyright (#litres_trial_promo)
CHAPTER ONE (#ulink_aca0278a-718e-5bfc-9c74-e8b08082a2be)
AUBREY TAPPED A rhythm with her foot as the song “Respect” played inside her head. The words sounded as clear and pure as if Aretha herself was strapped in the helicopter’s seat beside her.
The copilot, Lieutenant Jensen, interrupted her mid-verse. “Three minutes.”
Signaling that she heard, she resumed her internal checklist. Not the equipment list every Coast Guard Rescue Swimmer is always prepared with—mask, fins, knife, radio, beacon and assorted supplies. She’d already done that one about fifty times. No, Aubrey was executing her “mental prep.” Breathing deeply, she imagined blood flowing to the furthest reaches of her body from her heart to her liver and all the way to the tips of her toes, while she silently sang Aretha Franklin’s classic tune over and over again. Was this weird? Maybe. She had no idea. But she knew other rescue swimmers who had their rituals, too. So, in that regard, she assumed it was normal. She didn’t really care one way or the other. It was her normal.
“Almost there.” Jensen spoke into her ear again.
She had noted the change in airspeed as they’d approached the coordinates. They were now moving slowly, searching. She embraced the surge of adrenaline that kicked in as she prepared for the task at hand. There could be literally anywhere, she mused as she looked out at the vast grayness beyond the rain-splattered windshield of the Jayhawk helicopter.
The emergency call had reported that the Respite, a forty-foot fishing boat with a crew of three, was in immediate distress. The captain of the vessel had relayed that the engine was dead, they were taking on water in the high seas and the bilge pumps could not keep up. The latest communication had confirmed they were abandoning ship. Time was of the essence. She shot an impatient glance at Oliver.
The flight mechanic and hoist operator, Petty Officer Terrence “Osprey” Oliver, opened the helicopter door. Looking out, she assessed the situation as well as the conditions permitted. She could make out the floundering vessel and the spreading debris field, but couldn’t see anything in the water that looked remotely like a human. As they circled the scene, her eyes scanned, the fog thinned...and there! Splashes of orange. Survivors in life jackets waving their arms. She looked at Oliver. She could tell he’d seen them, too, which was no surprise as Osprey had earned his nickname for a reason. She’d seen him spot survivors at distances that would make a real bird jealous.
She was anxious to get into the water now.
He signaled for her to get ready.
She quickly unbuckled from her flight seat and began to add the rest of her water deployment ensemble. Already outfitted in her dry suit, she removed the onboard communications, or ICS, and adjusted her swim helmet. For the duration of the rescue she would rely mostly on hand signals to communicate with her crew.
She waited some more. It was only a minute, but still, slower than usual and she felt a surge of anxiety as the seconds ticked by. This delay was not typical. What was going on?
Oliver signaled for her to slip her ICS back on.
Lieutenant Jensen spoke. “We’re experiencing mechanical difficulties. Returning to base.”
“Wait, no!”
“We don’t have any choice, Wynn.”
“Yes, we do. Let me drop.”
“Negative. We’re not leaving you without an exit.”
“The forty-seven is at least thirty minutes out.” Aubrey was referring to the forty-seven-foot motorboat that would have to be deployed from Station Cape Disappointment and the time it would take for it to arrive on scene. She didn’t have to add that the survivors might not last that long.
“Another helo will have to—Hold on.”
A delay could mean the difference between life or death. The least she could do is get them into a life raft and provide some comfort during the wait.
She knew the pilot, Lieutenant Commander Vincent, was going to give her an order. She needed to make a last-ditch argument in an effort to save three lives. She could get to the survivors, at least, do what she could to give them comfort and keep them alive until help arrived. She would risk the censure. So Others May Live was the Coast Guard’s Rescue Swimmers’ motto, and that’s what she did. That’s what she would do. Always.
“Sir, I can—”
“Stop talking, Wynn. We’ve got another chopper en route. It’s on a recon mission and is only minutes out. If you’re willing, you’ve got the go-ahead to deploy. They will execute the recovery.”
“Yes, of course I’m willing.”
“Lieutenant Commander Holmes is piloting the aircraft. Petty Officer Johnston is the flight mechanic,” Oliver added. “The two new guys are also on board. You’re all set. Go save some lives.”
She hadn’t met the new guys yet, but she had a ton of respect for Lt. Cdr. Holmes. And Jay Johnston was a friend, someone she flew with regularly and trusted. He was also an excellent hoist operator and Aubrey was glad to hear he was part of the crew.
She secured her equipment bag, put the mask and snorkel on her forehead, and pulled on her fins. Still wearing the requisite gunner’s belt, she moved forward and seated herself in the doorway of the chopper, gripping the handholds situated on either side. From this vantage point she could now see that the boat was lying very low and listing heavily to starboard. Swamped. She could hear nothing but the scream of the helicopter combined with the roar of the wind and the ocean. The sound fueled her determination. Ready, she signaled. Oliver gave her a firm tap on the chest to indicate she could proceed.
The helo moved right and dipped as Lieutenant Vincent lowered it into position. She released the gunner’s belt, positioned the mask on her face and, after one last equipment check, gave him a thumbs-up. Three more taps to her shoulder indicated she was good to go on his end.
She could never deploy without thoughts of her childhood “Coastie friends” Eli and Alex flashing through her mind. Their dads had served together and were the best of friends. That connection had brought their kids together, too, but a mutual love of adventure, the beach and water in any form had sealed the bond into their own solid, unwavering friendship.
The three of them would practice rescue jumping for hours on end: slight bend in the knees, fins pointing up, one hand on the mask and the other across the chest. Just like she did now. Steeling herself, she took a deep breath, timed her free fall to catch the top of a big swell, and dropped into the ocean.
She surfaced, her mind now fully in rescue mode. Raising her arm high into the air, she positioned her palm up and out in the “I am all right” signal, and swam to the first survivor.
* * *
LIEUTENANT COMMANDER, COAST GUARD pilot and rescue swimmer, Eli Pelletier wasn’t technically doing either of those jobs today. Rather, he was enjoying his ride as a passenger touring the Pacific Northwest’s coastline. His friend and fellow pilot, Lieutenant Commander Gale Kohen, was in the helicopter seat beside him, also taking in the view.
He and Gale had only arrived in Pacific Cove the day before and reported for duty at Air Station Astoria in Warrenton, Oregon, early that morning. They’d been transferred to District 13, also known as Sector Columbia River, under the auspices of performing an evaluation of the base’s search-and-rescue operations. Commander Pence had recommended a flyover in order to familiarize themselves with the area and conditions the SAR teams regularly worked in. Eli thought the reason for the ride sounded a little thin, but no one was going to second guess the commander. The real reason for their sudden transfer here didn’t have anything to do with SAR procedures, although they were both highly trained in the field.
They were bombing up the coast, chatting with the crew about past rescues, when the call came in that another helicopter at a rescue scene was experiencing mechanical problems. They’d been asked to take over, which was no problem. Regulations ensured that each helicopter was interchangeable as far as equipment went and he could see that this crew knew their bird.
“Pelletier, Kohen, you guys ready to go?”
“Affirmative,” they both agreed. The question was rhetorical. Like every Coastie, both were always willing to put their knowledge and skills to use whenever and wherever needed. That fast and Eli went from passenger to RS at the ready.
Eli knew the pilot, Lieutenant Commander Holmes. They’d flown together right after Eli had graduated flight school at Air Station Elizabeth City, North Carolina, where they’d both been assigned at the time. He’d only met the other crewmen, Petty Officers Johnston and Reeves, that morning. He was impressed with how quickly they now shifted from practice mission to life-and-death emergency. This was undoubtedly due to the fact that there had been no shift—they’d been ready. Semper paratus. Always Ready, as the Coast Guard motto stated.
D13 included one of the most dangerous stretches of ocean in the world—the Columbia River bar, where the formidable Columbia River emptied into the Pacific Ocean. Having spent the happiest years of his childhood here, Eli knew it well. His dad had been a Coast Guard officer before him and he knew training here in the Columbia River Sector was top-notch. Flexibility was the hallmark of a Coastie and just being stationed here had given these men plenty of experience.
Lt. Cdr. Holmes maneuvered the helo closer so they could get a better view, hovering next to the scene to avoid exposing the swimmer and survivor to the powerful blast of the helicopter’s rotor wash. Eli could see the swimmer and three survivors in the water below, two were in close proximity to each other, with the third a short distance away. Should be a simple, straightforward rescue, he thought.
Flight mechanic and hoist operator, Petty Officer Johnston, was evaluating the scene. “Swimmer is with two survivors. Swimmer is signaling for basket. Thirteen minutes since survivors have been in the water.”
