Deadly Divergence

When FBI Special Agent Mariah Conners is injured in the line of duty, her partner, Quinn MacAllister, decides Bermuda is the perfect place for them to relax and recuperate. But it isn’t called the Bermuda Triangle for nothing! First their charter plane goes down in a freak electrical storm, and they’re cast adrift with two spoiled teenagers and an elderly retired couple. Then they discover that the remote tropical island sheltering them holds a deadly secret—a unique sentient lifeform with incredible healing power for those few who can survive exposure to its potent spores. And to really cap things off, an old enemy is in hot pursuit! He wants the spores for himself, and he’ll kill anyone who gets in his way! Can Mac and Conners keep their companions alive and escape the mysterious island before he destroys them all? Excerpt “Mac!” Mariah stared in blank horror as the plane’s shattered nose sank beneath the choppy storm-darkened waves, leaving behind only a trail of shimmering bubbles. “Mac!” Someone was holding her back, pleading with her, clutching her arms in a fierce paralyzing grip. “Let me go!” she yelled, wrenching free. “He’s my partner!” The bubbles were slowly fading away. She dove, kicking hard, following the plane’s lazy descent. Icy darkness enveloped her. Her lungs began to ache and fiery spots danced before her eyes, but she couldn’t give up, she just couldn’t! More rising air bubbles suddenly exploded in her face, blinding her. Then her groping fingers brushed against something slippery. Mac’s leather jacket! One last frantic surge of energy moved her weakening legs, propelling her upward again, dragging his heavy weight behind her. Please, Mac, don’t die! Cold rain suddenly lashed against her upturned face. Sputtering, she sucked in deep breaths of precious air. Lightning flared overhead, painfully bright against her dilated eyes. The iron bands constricting her chest slowly eased as she fought to keep Mac’s sagging head above the waves. Thunder rumbled in her ears as the heavy waves knocked her back and forth. Frigid water cascaded over her head, and she resurfaced with a strangled cough. Then something hard stung her flailing hand. A rope? She wrapped stiffening fingers around it. New energy surged through her aching frame when Reuben’s hand locked around Mac’s limp arm. “Hurry!” she shouted. “He’s not breathing!” Esther leaned out perilously far to help, and slowly they hauled his long body into the raft. Then it was Conners’ turn, and she wanted to sob with relief as the ocean reluctantly loosened its death-grip on her thrashing legs. Mac was sprawled face-down in the sloshing raft. “Help me roll him over!” she gasped. Oh God, his lips were blue, and his open eyes were glazed. “He can’t die, not yet!” Helpful hands steadied her as she bent to force air down his windpipe. Again. And again! Breathe, thrust… Breathe, thrust… Breathe, thrust… Suddenly his limp body convulsed, and a gush of salty water erupted from his open mouth. Conners tilted his head to one side and let the water drain. “Breathe, Mac!” she ordered, pushing hard against his ribs one last time. “Come on, damn it! Breathe!” He jerked again, and this time she heard the sweet rush of air filling his lungs. His chest began to rise and fall in a slow, rhythmic cadence as his taut muscles relaxed.