My Only One Read online

  Alec dropped the binoculars as he rose, tense and disbelieving, his gaze riveted on the woman. She had struck the water a good fifty feet away, her red hair like a flame against the gray-green sea.

  “Rescue her!” Alec snapped to Mizin. “Get down there and get her!”

  “But, Comrade Captain,” Mizin began helplessly, “Captain Denisov hasn’t given us permission to—”

  Whirling around in the cramped confines of the Helix, Alec growled, “I’m giving the order, Lieutenant!” His decision could easily mean an international incident. Alec knew that no one, not even his friend Misha Surin, from the public-affairs office in the Politburo, could save him from being sent to a Siberian labor camp for making this decision solely on his own.

  Suddenly, he didn’t care. He’d been playing it safe and cautious all his life. This woman, who had displayed such incredible courage, deserved better than a death in the icy sea. She had no life vest, and that survival suit she wore could drag her down into the sea in minutes. If she didn’t drown, she would die of hypothermia within thirty minutes.

  Zotov quickly slid the door open, and a cold blast of Arctic air filled the confines of the helo. Alec stood tensely at the door as Zotov expertly guided Mizin verbally toward the floundering woman. The pilot dropped the Helix fast, and Alec clung to the air-frame door, his feet spread apart for maximum balance. The wind from the double rotor blades was whipping up the grasping, hungry fingers of the sea all around her.

  Alec leaned out the fuselage door, the cold air numbing his features. His eyes widened as he saw blood covering part of the woman’s face as she struggled to keep her head above water. “Quickly!” he snapped at Zotov. “Get the collar lowered quickly!”

  The bright orange collar was placed on a hoist hook outside the door and lowered. It swung and twirled wildly beneath the Helix, caught in the air turbulence created by the aircraft. Alec leaned out, the blasts from the rotors pummeling his body like punches from a boxing opponent.

  Abby couldn’t scream, she couldn’t even cry out; sea water funneled up her nostrils and then burned down the back of her throat and into her vulnerable lungs. Though she was dazed, the freezing water kept her semiconscious. Awkwardly, she flailed around, the drenched survival suit pulling her downward, always downward.

  Barely aware that the Soviet helicopter hovered nearby, Abby struggled weakly. The water was stealing what little heat was left in her body. Her flesh was numb; she felt nothing. Die…I’m going to die, she thought disjointedly. It was so hard to push upward, to keep her head above the water. The stout leather boots she wore were becoming heavier by the second, constantly tugging at her from below like hands pulling her down into the icy depths.

  A huge wave caught her and she cried out. Too late! Water streamed into her open mouth and she went under. Every movement stole more of her eroding strength, but Abby fought back. She broke through to the surface, gagging, and weakly tried to focus on the helicopter now hovering thirty feet above her. Blinking the salt water from her eyes, she saw two men leaning out, lowering something she didn’t recognize.

  The collar landed ten feet away from her and floated on the water. She looked up to see one man, leaning out of the helo at a dangerous angle and gesturing for her to swim toward the object. Coughing violently, Abby tried, but her arms were leaden. The suit felt like encasing concrete. And the sea was stealing the last of her body heat until no matter what her barely functioning brain screamed at her, the signals just didn’t reach her muscles.

  “She’s going to go down!” Zotov screamed at Alec. “She’s too weak to swim to the collar!”

  With a curse, Alec watched the woman’s waxen features. When her eyes rolled back in her head, he knew she’d lost consciousness. He tore off his helmet, then his parka. There was no time to unlace his heavy black leather boots.

  Turning to Zotov, he screamed at him above the roar of the helo, “I’m going to jump. I’ll get her to the collar. You lift us both up!”

  Zotov nodded jerkily, his eyes huge.

  It was a thirty-foot drop into the ocean. Alec’s alarm increased as he saw the woman slide beneath the surface for the last time. Taking a deep breath, he leapt from the helo.

  Abby’s last coherent thought before she surrendered to her watery grave was of the man tearing the clothes from his body. When he removed the helmet, she could clearly see his taut features: a lean, intense face with dark brown eyes that seemed to burn with some undefinable inner light, hair cut military short and the color of the black walnuts that each autumn fell from the trees around her apartment in Alexandra, Virginia. Just the anxiety, the care building in his eyes, made her try one last time when she realized he was stripping off unnecessary clothing to jump out the door to save her.

  With the last of her strength, she lifted her hand above her head as the sea jerked her downward. Her icy glove stretched upward in a silent plea of help. It was the last thing she remembered.

  Alec landed in the Bering Sea with a huge splash. The icy water tore the breath from him as he shot back up to the surface. Shaking his head in a violent motion to blink away the seawater from his eyes, Alec saw her hand just as it slid beneath the surface. With floundering strokes he reached her, but she was already beneath the water. Gulping in a huge breath of air, he jackknifed into a dive, lunging beneath the surface. There! He saw her red hair floating around her waxen features like living red coral. Kicking hard, he propelled himself downward, his hand outstretched, but the cold was stealing his strength. If only…if only… There!

  Alec grabbed the shoulder of her survival suit. Instantly, he kicked back toward the surface. To his surprise and terror, the survival suit was much heavier than he’d realized. It took every last vestige of his superb physical condition to get the woman back to the surface. Gasping for air, he placed one arm around her to keep her head up and out of the water. Swimming hard for the collar that dangled nearby, Alec sobbed for breath.

  No wonder she’d gone down so quickly. The survival suit felt like an anchor. As hard as Alec kicked, he realized with a sinking feeling that his boots were retarding them from reaching the collar. Anxiously, he glanced at the woman. She wasn’t breathing. He had only minutes to revive her or she’d have permanent brain damage. If he could revive her at all. She was suffering from hypothermia and a small cut on her forehead.

  The collar, once retrieved, was easy to bring around himself and the woman. Alec placed both his arms under her, locking his hands into a fist just below her breasts. He heard the winch begin and instantly felt the collar tighten around them. Hurry! Hurry! The weight from the deadly survival suit was ponderous. The winch was pulling them up, up, until finally, like two dripping towels being rescued from the grasping, hungry sea, they slowly came out of the water.

  Alec was nearly beside himself at the slowness of the winch recovery. Zotov helped him maneuver the woman into the helo and laid her down on the metal surface that was glazed over with ice. Alec staggered into the aircraft on his hands and knees, gasping and shaking from the cold.

  “Shut the door!” he ordered Zotov as soon as he shrugged out of the collar.

  The crewman shut and locked it.

  Alec crawled to the woman’s side and rolled her onto her belly. Like all officers in the Soviet navy, he’d been taught CPR and advanced first-aid life-saving techniques. Straddling her, he placed his hands low on her torso and, leaning forward, forced out the water he knew was in her lungs. Zotov hovered nearby. Without a helmet on, Alec was without communications ability with his pilot.

  “Get to the Udaloy!” Alec yelled above the roar, hoping Zotov would understand him. The crewman jerked a thumbs-up that he understood the order and relayed the command to the pilot. Instantly, the Helix banked right, gained altitude, the engines revving up to maximum pitch.

  A half an hour. They had half an hour before Alec could get the woman any kind of medical help. He kept pushing huge amounts of water out of her lungs. Alec was trembling badly, the dark b
lue one piece suit stuck to his body, icy and stiff. Zotov helped him turn her over on her back.

  It was then that Alec got the first good look at her. Her flesh was a bluish gray, indicating she had stopped breathing. With trembling hands, he tore at the zipper of the survival suit. He had to get it off her! It would only impair her chances of surviving, now an icy coffin helping to induce her body into worse hypothermia. Zotov understood. Together, they wrestled with the bulky, wet material, stripping her out of it. Zotov retrieved the thermal recovery capsule and placed her in it.

  Why was he doing this? Alec thought. Why was he risking his entire career—his life—for her? He tipped her head back, that mass of red hair spread like a limp halo about her. He saw copper-colored freckles across her cheeks and realized in anguish just how beautifully sculpted her lips really were. Trying to get a pulse at her throat and finding none, Alec knew he must do CPR if he was to even have a chance of saving her.

  Even as the helo returned to the Udaloy, Alec continued to perform CPR. He tirelessly pumped on her chest to try and get her heart started, and blew his breath into her. He lost track of time, as he always did in an emergency. She became his sole focus, his entire reason for being. As he fitted his mouth to her slack lips, he envisioned not only his breath entering her, but his will for her to live flowing into her slender body at the same time.

  Come on, fight back! Do you hear me? Fight back! Where is the fire that shows in your hair? Show it to me! Show it!

  Several minutes before Mizin landed the Helix on the aft end of the destroyer, Alec felt a pulse. With a cry of elation, he watched her fine, thin nostrils quiver. He placed his hand on her chest, feeling a trembling, shallow inhalation on her part. He grinned triumphantly up at Zotov, who smiled back. Beneath the survival suit, the woman had worn a heavy pair of white cotton longjohns. They, too, were soaked, but Alec left them on as he and Zotov wrapped her in the thermal capsule once again.

  As they landed and the deck crew placed the tie-down chains on the four wheels to stop the Helix from being tossed overboard into the sea, Alec quickly made sure the thermal unit fit snugly around the woman. Her flesh was frighteningly cold, and he knew she would have to be treated immediately for hypothermia. If she wasn’t warmed up, her heart would stop beating again.

  Zotov jerked the door open. To Alec’s relief, two medical corpsmen waited with a stretcher just outside the aircraft. The rotors were slowing, the engine turned off. Alec ignored the curious looks of the sailors and those officers who gathered at a safe distance from the helicopter. With Zotov’s help, he transferred the woman to the stretcher and issued orders to have her taken immediately to the dispensary. He followed close behind, soaked to the skin and freezing as never before.

  Entering the destroyer from a nearby hatch, Alec was on the heels of the corpsmen. They hurried, lifting their feet high above each hatchway, the passage narrow and confined. What had he done? The ship’s captain, Denisov, had never given permission to affect a rescue, much less bring the American woman on board. As cold as Alec was physically, the pit of his stomach tightened considerably—but it was with fear. Fear for his own career for making a decision of this magnitude on his own, without proper authority.

  Chapter Two

  ALEC REFUSED TO leave the red-haired woman, choosing instead to wait in Dr. Antoli Ryback’s office until she was stabilized. She would have to be stripped out of her wet longjohns, dressed in a cotton gown and then placed back in the thermal capsule in order to slowly elevate her body temperature.

  A half an hour later, Ryback ordered Alec into the dispensary. The lean physician stood at the woman’s bedside, a scowl on his narrow features as Alec approached.

  “Tell me what happened to her out there,” he demanded as he placed an IV into her right arm.

  In a few succinct sentences, Alec told him. He couldn’t tear his gaze from the woman’s slack features. She wasn’t beautiful, but rather, intriguing looking. Alec forced himself to remain unaffected so that Ryback wouldn’t realize his personal interest in her.

  “You’d best go see Captain Denisov now. I’m sure he’ll want the full story on your heroic rescue effort,” Ryback said wryly. “This sounds like a golden opportunity, Comrade.”

  “Oh?”

  “Of course. The Soviets did a good turn for the Americans. You rescued one of their people.” He placed the stethoscope against her gowned chest, listening to the woman’s lungs, a satisfied expression on his face. “She’s going to be fine, so don’t look so concerned, my friend. Go, change uniforms and then speak to our captain. I’m sure she’ll regain consciousness by the time you return to check on her.”

  Faintly embarrassed by Ryback’s perceptiveness, Alec nodded. As he turned away, he told himself that Ryback was a doctor, therefore more closely attuned to the pulse beat of human actions and reactions. Had his concerns for the woman really been that apparent? As he stepped into the narrow passageway, Alec absently rubbed his chest. Would he return in time to see her awaken? What was her name? Where did she come from? What had possessed her to take on that Japanese catcher? Her courage stunned him. They were but a few of the many questions that plagued Alec as he headed down the passageway deep in thought.

  *

  ABBY JERKED AWAKE. Where was she? Where? The room where she was laying was dark except for a red light on the bulkhead, throwing a crimson wash across the small, neatly kept space. Everything was made of metal, except for the curtain beside her bed. Coughing violently, she pressed her fingers to her raw throat. It was then that she became aware that someone was sitting near her bedside. Abby’s eyes widened enormously and her heart pounded unevenly. A man in an unfamiliar uniform was sitting quietly observing her. His eyes held exhaustion and interest in them as he regarded her with a slight, tentative smile. He reached out and turned on a small lamp beside the bed.

  “Dr. Abby Fielding?”

  She blinked and struggled into a sitting position, feeling dizzy. “Y-Yes?”

  “I’m Second Captain Aleksandr Rostov. I want to welcome you aboard the Udaloy, a Soviet naval destroyer. Please don’t look so frightened. You are our guest. A friend.”

  Abby stared at him, his words slowly sinking into her spongy mind. “You…” she whispered, her voice choked with emotion, “…you rescued me out there. My God, I thought I was going to die.”

  Alec slowly rose, not wanting to cause more fear than what was presently mirrored in her lovely blue eyes. “You came very close to death, Doctor.” He smiled warmly, trying to disarm her wariness. Her hair lay in wild abandon around her shoulders. She needed to shower to wash the stiff salt brine out of those copper-colored tresses. Placing his hands against the steel tubing around her bed, he added, “Your defiance, your fight, saved you from drowning.”

  Suddenly emotional because his voice was gentle with understanding, Abby clung to his dark brown gaze. “My defiance got me into a collision with that Japanese catcher. I thought it would turn aside like it had in previous days, but it didn’t.” She touched her throat, the raw feeling uncomfortable. “You saved my life. I was going down for the count.” Quickly wiping away tears at the corners of her eyes, she asked, “What about the Argonaut crew, Captain? Are they okay?”

  “We’ve got the Argonaut in tow behind us. Captain Stratman and the two crew members are staying on board with a dewatering pump we’ve loaned them. The trawler sustained some hull damage and with our help, they have the leak under control. They’re fine. You were the only one who was injured.” When he saw her alarm turn to relief, he added, “We’re taking you to your Coast Guard base in the Kodiak Islands for repairs. Once we reach the U.S. twelve-mile limit, a Coast Guard cutter will take tow of your trawler. At that time, we’ll transfer you to the cutter, too.”

  “Good….” Abby whispered. “And my whales? That pod of humpback whales? Did they get away?”

  “There is a happy ending for everyone except the Japanese whaling fleet, who came up with no catch. Your whales are safe
.”

  Relief cascaded through Abby. When she opened her eyes, she melted beneath his interested inspection of her. “I’m on board a Soviet ship?”

  “Yes. As our guest,” Alec stressed.

  Suddenly nervous in Alec’s presence, Abby nodded. “Thank you so much.” She gripped his hand that was resting on the tubing. It was a strong, powerful hand belonging to a man who obviously didn’t sit behind a desk any more than necessary. There was an incredible sense of strength about the officer, and yet he was treating her as if she were a frightened child, with gentleness and understanding.

  Alec didn’t move, the coolness of Abby’s fingertips brushing the back of his hand. Her touch had been fleeting. Pulverizing. His heartbeat soared. “Are all Americans like you?” he asked as she removed her hand.

  “Like what? Willing to risk their lives for whales?”

  His mouth curved into a grin. “Perhaps that also. No, you reached out and touched me. Is that an American thing to do?”

  With a little laugh, Abby said, “I’m afraid so.” She hesitated. “I should amend that answer. Some of us don’t let decorum stand in our way of reaching out and touching a person. Although,” she said wryly, “it’s more of a western custom than an eastern one.”

  Cocking his head, Alec absorbed her breathy laughter. Her blue eyes no longer looked dazed. Instead, he discovered gold highlights of amusement in them. “I’ve never met an American before. You must first forgive me for the endless questions I will ask you. I’m the navigation officer on board, but I studied communications, so my curiosity comes from a personal as well as professional level.”

  Abby gasped. “You’re a public-relations officer?”

  He was shocked by how easily she showed emotion, but oddly, Alec enjoyed the unexpected discovery. “Not exactly.”

  “Still, you have the background. Then you can help me!”

  For the first time in a long time, Alec laughed—fully and deeply. “I doubt many could refuse you, Dr. Fielding.”