AN: As always…..I do not own these characters. All rights go to E.L. James

"Saving You, Saving Me"

Chapter 14

Night fell, and with it the temperature. Christian sought warmth and food below deck. The galley was well stocked with canned and dry goods. Trying not to make much noise that would disturb Ana, he prepared their supper. A can of chili, a box of corn bread mix that needed only oil and water. He heard the berth door open. He turned and Ana stepped out. Her dark hair was mussed, her clothes wrinkled. She looked adorable as she blinked at him.

"What are you doing?" she asked on a yawn.

"Making dinner. Your parents keep the cupboards nicely stocked."

"Can I help?"

His answer stalled when she stared to finger comb her hair. The mass spilled about her shoulders, and he had to fight the urge to run his fingers through the silken strands to see if they were as soft as they looked. He liked knowing there was this side of Ana. So unlike the uptight, in control surgeon he'd met a few days ago.

He flexed his fingers around the soup ladle, stirring the chili to get a grip. "You could set the table."

She set about the task, and maneuvering in the tight quarters made Christian acutely aware of Ana's soft curves every time he bumped into her. It was a relief when they finally sat down to their meal, because he didn't know how much more he could take before he pulled her into his arms and kissed her.

"Can I ask you something?"

"Of course." Curious, he waited while she seemed to gather her thoughts.

"Earlier today you said something about God refining you. What did you mean by that?

Surprised and glad that she'd feel comfortable enough and curious enough to ask, he set his spoon down and formed his words carefully. "I was referring to Proverbs 17:3. 'The refining pot is for silver and the furnace for gold, but the Lord tests the heart," he quoted.

Her eyebrows knitted together. "Tests the heart?"

"Not a pass or fail kind of test, but just as precious metals must be purified by heat, so do our hearts. He uses adversity to shape, mold and purify. To get rid of the dross and to prepare us for great blessing or great suffering." He wasn't sure how to make her understand. "It's kind of a hard thing to explain. I'll admit it took studying to really grasp the analogies."

"I kind of get what you're saying," she said, her intelligent gaze thoughtful. "Silver has to be mined, and then refined through a labor intensive process, requiring time, patience, attention and care before it can become something precious and worthwhile. Something beautiful."

A warm smile spread through him. "Exactly."

Her mouth curved up in an almost shy smile. "I did go to Sunday school as a kid you know. I haven't forgotten everything."

His heart swelled and he reached across the expanse of the table to touch her hand. She was so beautiful. Smart, kind and caring. A woman worth loving.

Stunned by that conclusion, a humming sounded in his brain, and the world tilted.

Wait. That wasn't an imagined sound.

His pulse skyrocketed.

Shoving his shocking thought aside, he cocked his head and listened. He'd heard an out of place noise. "Did you hear that?"

"What?"

Heavy footsteps echoed in the main cabin like the blast of a gun. He had heard the whirl of a motor. Someone was on the deck. His senses went to full combat mode.

The alarm on Ana's face made his stomach clench. He grabbed his weapon from a drawer where he'd stashed it earlier. "Get in the cabin. Lock the door. Do not come out."

She scrambled from her seat.

Before she could get to the berth, the door to the main cabin burst open and three AK-47 armed men dressed all in black stormed inside. They wore dark bandannas over the lower halves of their faces and black beanie caps over their heads so all that was visible were their eyes. Cold, menacing eyes.

Christian recognized the men for what they were…mercenaries. Here in Seattle. Whoever was after Ana had cash and connections. He wondered why they hadn't come in with a spray of gunfire.

"Don't do anything stupid," one of the masked gunmen said, gesturing with an AK-47.

Christian's finger twitched on his weapon's trigger, but obviously he was outgunned. With a growl, he lowered his weapon. There was no way he could take down all three men before one of them started firing.

And that wasn't an option. Ana would most certainly be killed if he got twitchy, although he feared she may be dead before this night was over anyway. Guilt for failing to protect her burned like acid in his gut. How had they been found?

He lifted his chin and stepped in front of her. His body wouldn't be much of a shield against the firepower aimed at his heart, but it was all he had, and he'd protect her with his life.

Not because it was his job, but because his feelings ran deep. Deeper than he even wanted to admit.

Lifting his hands and hoping there was still a way out of this, Christian said, "We don't want any trouble."

One of the masked gunmen stepped closer. "Trouble don't care. It's here."

Christian held his ground. If the guy was dumb enough to come within striking distance, Christian just might have a chance of turning this nightmare around. He took a half step closer. "What do you want?"

"We'll get what we want when the doctor's dead." Ana gasped.

"Why?" Christian moved forward, his muscles firing, ready to attack.

The business end of the AK-47 raised level to Christian's eyes. "Back off."

The guy wasn't so dumb after all. Christian stepped backward. "You can either die now or with the doctor. Your choice."

Assessing his options, Christian stalled. "She at least deserves to know who wants her dead."

"We're not paid to answer questions," the man barked out. "Now both of you, inside the bedroom cabin."

Okay, so they didn't intend to shoot them outright. Good. Excellent, actually. Maybe they had a shot at escaping. Christian backed Ana into the cabin. Once they were inside, the leader motioned for one of his goons to enter. The man secured their hands and feet with plastic zip ties before leaving, locking the door behind him.

"What are they going to do?" Fear, stark and vivid, flickered in her eyes.

His chest knotted.

She sat on the end of the bed as if her legs wouldn't hold her up any longer. He didn't blame her.

Christian could come up with several scenarios. None of which ended well for them. He had to get them out of there fast. He sat next to Ana and kicked off his shoes. With his bound hands, he managed to get his pant leg up to reveal his butterfly knife sheathed in a leather pouch strapped high on his calf.

Swinging his legs over Ana's leg, he said, "Grab the knife."

She managed to slide the weapon from the sheath just as a loud explosion filled the air. The vessel shuddered. Ana screamed. The boat keeled to the right. Unsecured, Christian and Ana went tumbling across the bed to land in a heap against the wall. The knife skittered across the carpet and clattered to a stop against the wood a few feet away.

Commando crawling, Christian reached the knife and worked the blade beneath the plastic tie binding his feet together.

Ana lay motionless on the wall that now was their floor. Ice fear froze his blood. He quickly cut her bonds, realizing she'd hit her head when they'd crashed into the wall. A nasty red lump formed above her temple.

"Come on, Ana, wake up," Christian said, his voice thick with urgency.

He stuck the handle of the knife between his teeth and brought his hands up to cut the zip tie. Once his hands were free, he gathered Ana into his arms. Water seeped in from the cracks around the door. The rushing sound of water filling the hull roared in Christian's ears. The cabin door bowed under the pressure. Any second the hinges would give and the room would fill. Christian wasn't afraid for himself. He could swim out no sweat. But with Ana unconscious, he couldn't stop her from breathing in the lake water and drowning. He needed her awake.

Panic flared white hot. He patted her cheeks. "Come on, baby, wake up."

She stirred and batted at his hands. "What? Stop."

Relieved, Christian pressed his lips to her forehead. "Okay, time to get out of here."

"What happened?"

"You hit your head. I hope you can swim," he said.

"Of course I can swim." Her gaze shifted away from his. She gasped. "We've tipped over. We're taking on water."

"Yep on both accounts." He slid an arm around her waist. "Any second now that door is going to give, and this room will fill with water. I want you to be ready."

She swallowed. "Ready to die?"

Her tone hinged on the edge of hysteria. He needed her to stay calm. "No. You're not going to die. I won't let you."

"Why is this happening? Who wants me dead so badly?"

Christian wished he had answers. But he was more concerned with getting to the surface. The door creaked. One hinge popped. "We've got to move."

He hustled her to the far corner, where they wouldn't be in the direct path of the water when it crashed through the door. "Deep breath. Fill your lungs."

She did.

"Again."

Just as they both sucked in air, the door gave. A crush of cold water flooded the room, quickly filling the space and chasing away the air. Buoyant, Christian treaded water and let the rising tide carry him and Ana upward toward the portside window. As the water rose, covering their chins, he used the blade to dig out the edges of the glass in the porthole.

"Christian?" Ana had her nose and mouth pressed against the wood. Water lapped at her face, threatening to cover her completely.

"Hold tight." He worked the glass from the pane. He gulped in air. "Here. Breathe." He needed to find a way out of this watery coffin. "I'll be right back."

He pushed her toward the opening, which was just big enough for her to stick her face through. Sheathing his knife, he dived beneath the water to swim through the door into the main cabin and up to the surface, counting the seconds as he went. He broke free of the water and gasped for air. An easy two minutes underwater. The yacht was on its side and quickly going under. Moonlight reflected on the yachts hull, where a gaping hole had been ripped into the aft. Their assailants had use C-4. Not enough to blow them completely out of the water, just enough to sink the boat.

Christian reached the window. Ana's fingers gripping the edge and her pale face were the only things he could see.

"I'm coming in to get you. But I need you to listen carefully," he said.

She nodded. Light from the moon showed the dilation of her pupils. She was going into shock.

"When I come to you, I'll tap your shoulder. When I do that, you take a deep breath and hold it. Then you're going to put your arms around my neck and we'll swim out."

"I can't do that," she said.

"Yes, you can. I know you can."

"No. No," she said, her voice rising with hysteria.

"Yes. Listen to me. You can do this. We can do this."

She closed her eyes.

Afraid she was giving up, he shouted, "Look at me."

Her lids popped open.

"I'll be right there. Hang on."

"Christian!"

As he made his way toward the opening that would lead him back to her. "Please. Please, let me get her out alive."

He inhaled and then dived under the water, sending up a prayer that he made it to Ana in time.