Bijou forced herself to keep swimming, looking right and left, trying to find Arnaud in the underworld grove of broken trees. The rope jerked and she kicked harder, following that trail. She swam deeper until she spotted the rope tangled in tree limbs. She struggled through the branches, wondering how Arnaud had ended up under the tree instead of on top of it. Her lungs began to burn and she worried she’d have to go back up for air and Arnaud would drown.

She spotted him thrashing, fighting to get himself free. His hands were at the harness, trying to get it off when the tangle of rope and the branch pinning him to the soft muddy floor prevented him from unlinking the carabiner. She swam fast, now that she had a location, using the rope to help pull her along. The moment she got to him, she pulled the knife from her tool belt and cut him free. Arnaud continued to thrash. His foot was pinned beneath the tree trunk.

She could see that the rope had wrapped around the tree as it rolled, which had pulled Arnaud beneath it as it sank. She signaled to him and he went still, his gaze wide, clinging to hers. A calm descended over her as she swam to the bottom and examined the problem. She only had seconds now and she would be forced to surface for air. She would not abandon him. If she went to the top, so would Arnaud.

His hiking boot was trapped in the crook of one of the largest branches. She immediately took hold of the boot and tried to pry it loose. Instantly she knew it was impossible. Arnaud had been trying to do so all along. He wasn’t a man to panic and he would have thought of that. She sliced through the laces, jerking them free, opening the boot as best she could. Arnaud wiggled his foot out and kicked strongly for the surface.

Her lungs were burning and she couldn’t imagine what his felt like. Along the edges of her vision, a strange red had begun to shade out images. She kicked as hard as she could, desperate for air, afraid she wouldn’t hold out. The idea of drowning in the bayou with alligators feeding on her body spurred her last desperate kick. She exploded to the surface gasping for air. She’d never held her breath for so long in her life. Frantically she looked around. Everything seemed a little hazy. She felt weak, her pulse pounding in her temples.

A hand brushed her shoulder, and Bijou suppressed a scream. Arnaud wrapped one arm around her, putting his mouth close to her ear. “Can you swim?”

She nodded, ashamed of the weak moment. Arnaud had it so much worse and yet he was already calm, treading water even as he drew a great lungful of air deep. Bijou struck out for the ledge, looking around and peering below her, afraid all the thrashing around might have drawn an alligator to them.

The water was so slow moving it appeared stagnant and it was definitely brackish. She had the feeling that when the tide came in their tiny ledge would disappear. Crawfish and shrimp thrived, but there was no telling what kind of litter, chemicals or other things had found their way to the channel.

She concentrated on putting one arm in front of the other and pulled weakly, conscious that Arnaud had dropped behind her to make certain she made it back to the ledge. She dragged herself up, clawing at the muddy surface. Arnaud shoved her up by her butt and followed her onto the narrow strip. Both lay motionless, legs still in the water while they fought to breathe.

Bijou moved first, turning over, uncaring that she was lying in mud, pulling up her knees so unless an alligator exploded out of the water, she was relatively safe for a moment. She was freezing. Shaking. And she stank. Badly. Very, very badly. Beside her, Arnaud did the same, rolling over and pulling up his legs.

“Thanks again, Bijou.” He turned his head to look at her, confusion in his eyes. “You’re making a habit of saving my life.”

“I’m gettin’ really good at it.” She tried to make light of the moment. She huffed out her breath. “I don’ want to sound like a girl here, but I swear bugs and germs are totally crawlin’ all over my skin. They have to be in my hair too.” She squeezed her eyes closed tight. “I’m not lookin’ until I can take a long hot shower. Maybe for several hours.”

“Um, Bijou . . .” Arnaud paused. “You do sound like a girl.”

She couldn’t help herself. She laughed. They were alive. No alligator got them. “I stink like sewage, but then so do you—the latest in cool perfume. Thank God no one else can smell us.”

“Although we might smell like rotten meat to an alligator,” Arnaud said.

“That’s so not funny,” she said, trying not to laugh. She was afraid she might be on the edge of hysteria. “I’m freezin’.”

“So am I.” He glanced at the sky. “It’s going to be night soon.”

“Don’ you dare talk about climbin’ up that bank. I’ll push you back in myself.”

There was no sound above them other than the drone of insects. No trickle of dirt to alert them. Nothing at all, but she suddenly knew with absolute certainty they weren’t alone. She wrapped her fingers around his wrist to get his attention and put her finger to her lips signaling above them.

They both lay in silence, Arnaud, frowning, trying to hear whatever had spooked her. He put his mouth against her ear. “I can hear the insects.”

“Someone’s there,” she whispered back. She knew she was right. Her entire body had gone on alert. Deep inside something shifted and moved. That strange itch raced like a tidal wave just under her skin, rushing through her body in alarm.

“Bijou!”

Her heart dropped. She’d recognize that arrogant commanding voice anywhere. Remy Boudreax was up above them. Of course it had to be him that would come along when she was at her absolute worst. She moaned and covered her face with her hands, smearing mud all over her cheeks and chin.