Quick & Dangerous, page 9
She heard the shower turn on. Yeah, that was a good idea. Not only was she all sweaty, but also salty and sandy.
“Querida,” he purred, coming to stand next to the bed. He offered her his hand, and this time, she took it without hesitation. “I might not be able to get it up at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you.”
She had to keep herself from skipping as she followed him into the bathroom. Oh boy, had she ever hit the jackpot.
They’d spent the better part of the night doing despicable things to each other. Despicably wonderful things. It was still dark out when Skyler figured she’d finally fallen asleep in Rob’s bed, but it wouldn’t be dark out for long. The adhan would start soon, and the gentle noises of the morning in a Muslim country would soon begin.
But at the moment, she was deep in dreamland. Rob hadn’t said she couldn’t stay over, and since he’d fallen asleep with his arms around her, after they’d had a sleepy round of spoon-style sex, she couldn’t really leave even if she wanted to.
Which she didn’t.
She’d asked for one night.
And technically it was still that night.
Rob had rolled over to his own side of the bed, and Skyler was tucked up on her own side. Neither of them had bothered with the blanket, but Skyler did go and grab her purse from the porch and pulled her green and pink sarong out of it, using it to cover her legs and torso. She usually just slept with a light cover over her anyway. Enough to keep the chills away, as well as the bugs. Especially since they hadn’t bothered to unfurl the mosquito netting from above, something she usually did in her own cabin.
She felt him before she heard him. A swift jab in the back from what could only have been an elbow, followed by a loud, almost roar-like sound. Then he was up off the bed and on his feet, yelling and slashing his arms around as if his hand held a knife and he was stabbing something … or someone.
She sat bolt upright in the bed and watched him, unable to move from the shock, but also the fear.
He was dreaming.
He had to be.
She had dreams, too. Bad ones, and she knew that it wasn’t always wise to get in the middle of the dream, especially a physical nightmare like this one.
Usually her dreams consisted of her screaming and falling, being chased, being tied up and tortured and then eventually shot. That’s usually when she woke up in a heavy sweat, with tears in her eyes and fear in her heart.
But Rob’s dream was different. He was angry. There was no fear on his face or in his eyes. No, that was rage that gleamed there, pure, white-hot rage.
She barely knew this man, knew nothing of his past, only what he and her alleged brothers had told her. And yet she trusted him.
Had that been a huge mistake?
Was he dangerous?
Should she just leave?
Could she?
Swallowing, she swung her legs out on her side of the bed, planting her feet on the cool floorboards. She noticed his pocket knife on the windowsill and grabbed it, flicking the blade out and hiding it in her hand.
She licked her lips and went for it.
Chapter 9
Rob
“Rob!”
He had to kill the fucker. He had to end his life. He needed to save the baby, save the kids. So many to save. But first, the fucker had to die. The baby’s screams pierced his ears. They were cries of agony, cries for help. He had to help her.
“Rob! Roberto Cahill!”
He shook his head at the sound of his name. It was definitely a woman’s voice. But there were no women on his team.
“Roberto Cahill, wake up. You need to wake up.”
Wake up?
Something soft and pillow-like smacked him in the face, then another. He blinked. Blinked again, and that’s when he saw that he wasn’t in the ten-story apartment, and there was no man he needed to kill, no children he needed to save.
But there was a woman.
A naked woman, and she stood there, on the other side of the bed, his knife terribly concealed in her hand, and she looked absolutely terrified.
Oh fuck. What had he done?
She was proving to be as stubborn as she was beautiful, and even though the cat was now out of the bag and Skyler knew everything, she still wasn’t ready to head to Moorea and meet her brothers.
Ready to flee in the dead of night if need be, but unwilling to screw over her co-workers and miss a dive if she didn’t have to. The woman was a paradox.
Embarrassed about what had happened earlier and how he’d handled things, Rob took off for another run. He needed to blow off some steam and think. He hadn’t been to see his therapist in ages because he’d been so busy chasing this phantasm of a woman. The mindfulness and meditation had their place, as did the exercise, but they weren’t enough. And nights when he was more exhausted than normal brought on the terrors.
How much longer could he keep this up? The job, the dreams, they were slowly killing him.
He jumped into the shower after his run, but for once, he didn’t need to use his hand. He’d had the real thing, and it’d blown his fucking mind. Now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go back to his hand and imagination when it came to Skyler. No, the woman was too real, too incredible, too insatiable for him to make do with his hand.
He could have canceled going out on the dive that morning, could have just sat on his porch and read a book, meditated or done some push-ups, but Roberto Luis Cahill was no coward. He showed up on that dock with his shoulders back and his head held high. Sure, he was embarrassed that Skyler had witnessed him at his weakest and most vulnerable, but he was also a Navy SEAL who had carried more of his fallen brothers over his shoulder back to base than he could count, had stitched up his own thigh wound with the bone sticking out, without an anesthetic and in the dark, and babysat both of his nieces for an entire afternoon on his own. He did not shy away from the difficult. He didn’t even shy away from the impossible.
Yeah, but you didn’t exactly handle it with much maturity either.
No, he hadn’t.
When he’d finally woken up properly and saw her standing there naked, armed and afraid, he’d done what he thought was right at the time—he’d kicked her out.
Nicely, of course. Kind of.
He’d brushed it off as if the dream hadn’t happened and then said she should probably just head back to her own cabin because he didn’t like to sleep with the mosquito net and she had at least three bites on her thigh alone.
Yeah, he’d been that big of a fucking idiot. He’d made up some lame-ass excuse about mosquito nets and bites and kicked her out.
But it also seemed like she’d gone all too willingly. He’d watched as she quietly, with a slight tremble to her hand, gathered her things and hastily got dressed. It was probably dark enough out that she could have ducked next door to her cabin naked and not been caught, but he waited for her to pull her dress over her head before opening the door for her.
She also still had his knife.
“Hey.”
Rob jumped, swinging out to block a punch. His body immediately leapt into survival mode.
“Whoa,” Skyler said, coming up behind him, towing a wagon with a bunch of full dive tanks.
Fuck.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he forced his muscles to relax. He needed to get a grip. He needed to stop going into attack mode whenever someone approached him from behind.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his board shorts, he nodded before averting his eyes. “Hey.”
“You okay?” she asked.
Now she was the epitome of maturity. And grace.
He’d fucking kicked her ass out of his cabin after a night of jaw-dropping sex and she’d witnessed his night terror, and she was still giving him the time of day.
“Fine.”
“Up for a drift dive today?” she asked, making sure to keep the wagon of tanks between them.
Grabbing his wet suit off the rack, he nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Cool.” Then she wheeled the wagon down the dock toward the boat, not bothering to look back at him.
Oh, this wasn’t going to be awkward at all.
Fortunately, the boat was busy, and Skyler spent the ride to the dive site in the galley helping prepare lunch. It seemed like she was just as uncomfortable about addressing the previous night as he was.
Did she think less of him?
Was she afraid of him?
In all his years of having night terrors and dealing with his PTSD from his time in service, he’d never been violent. And this was with women in his bed. He’d never hurt them or attacked them in his sleep, thinking they were the enemy. He’d never acted on his instinct when someone snuck up on him, but that didn’t stop him from reacting and behaving like he was ready to kill.
Because he was a killer.
Rob had killed.
All bad guys. But he was still a killer.
But, unlike just telling people not to sneak up on you, the problem with night terrors was you never knew when they’d strike or how they’d manifest. Sometimes he would simply yell in his sleep and thrash. Other nights he would wake up in a cold sweat, panicking and thinking he was still in the field, hearing bombing and explosions off in the distance.
It was the fact that they were so unpredictable and alarming that scared most women away. They didn’t know how to handle him. Or help him.
And it didn’t help that in the morning, Rob was usually distant and dismissive. This was why he never spent the night anymore. And if he couldn’t avoid a sleepover, he slept on the couch once the sex was over.
Rob snorted and shook his head as he stood on the bow of the big yellow dive boat as it headed out to sea. He was primo husband material. Couldn’t even share a bed with a woman for fear of screaming and thrashing in his sleep … or worse.
He was lost in thought when he felt someone come up behind him. Even though the wind was blowing toward him, he could tell it was her. She had a presence. An aura unlike any other woman he’d met. It was not only warm and comforting, but it also held a touch of sadness. She was hesitant to approach him. He could feel her apprehension.
Rob could just hear his brother, Eddie, now. “That’s some pretty hippy dippy bullshit, there, bro. Her aura? Can you also tell what she had for lunch by smelling her farts? For fuck’s sake.”
But call it what you will, hippy dippy shit, his Navy SEAL training or a deeper connection to the air around him, Rob felt her come up behind him. She was keeping her distance, though.
Fuck, he hated that he’d put that kind of fear into her.
He spun around to face her before she spoke. He needed to let her know he’d never hurt her. At least not on purpose.
The sun was behind her, illuminating her hair and the unruly wisps that had escaped her updo like a golden halo. She really was an angel on earth.
“We’re almost there. You ready?”
He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“Cool. You’re with me.”
“It’s a packed boat. You sure it’s just the two of us?” He couldn’t decide if he wanted to share her or not. They’d had such a great time on that first dive, just the two of them, and then their time in bed last night … wow! But things were awkward. Would someone else break the tension or just add to it?
“Just the two of us,” she said, without giving any more of an explanation. She didn’t move away, either. The two of them stood there on the bow in silence, the warm tropical wind slashing across their faces as the morning sun beat down on them from behind. Even though it was a few hours before lunch, the heat of the day was upon them, and the only reprieve was the breeze.
“We going to talk?” Skyler asked, after several long, quiet moments. “About last night, I mean.”
Rob made a noise in his throat. “Nothin’ to talk about,” he said quickly, instantly regretting the snap to his tone. He wasn’t a mean person or a grouch. His mother had raised him better than that. He was about to open his mouth to apologize when Skyler cut him off.
“All right then. If you say so. Be ready in five.” Then she wandered off.
Fuck.
Rob had never botched a mission quite so epically as he had this one. Rule number one: Don’t piss off your target. Rule number two: Don’t sleep with your target. Rule number three: Don’t fall for your target.
He’d done them all.
“All right, everyone,” announced Fritz, one of the other dive masters. “We’re nearing our drop site. If everyone wants to come, suit up and double check with their buddy.”
Peeling himself off the bow, Rob made his way down to the equipment storage. Skyler was already there. She’d ditched the green dress and was now in a black bikini top that set Rob’s pulse racing. Her wet suit was peeled down to her waist.
Lifting her head up from where she’d been checking the air on her tank, she gave him a single nod and continued on with her work.
Oh yeah, this dive wasn’t going to be uncomfortable at all.
Avoiding eye contact with everyone, he suited up. Then, unlike last time, at the last minute he pulled his dive knife from out of his bag and fastened it to his ankle.
“Check me?” Skyler asked, coming up to him, her wet suit now fully on, as well as her goggles, tank, and Buoyancy Control Device, or BCD, which was a vest that was attached to the tank and inflated or deflated with air to help the diver sink or float.
Rob nodded, then began going over her gear. She did the same with his gear.
Everything was just so awkward.
Would she follow him to Moorea tomorrow? Or had he blown the mission last night?
When they surfaced, he needed to talk to her. Make her see that Moorea was what was safest for her. He was here to bring her to her brothers, nothing else. The sex, although it’d been fantastic, was a one-time thing. He’d drop her off, collect his payment and be gone. She didn’t need to worry about him having another night terror in bed with her, because it was never going to happen again.
The boat had come to a stop, and one of the deckhands had thrown over the anchor. Unlike the dives before, they weren’t on any kind of discernible reef or island. The bottom was faintly visible down below, but from the looks of things, the current was moving quickly.
“All right, folks. We’re doing a drift dive today,” Fritz piped up, decked out head to toe in his dive gear. “Meaning, we’ll drop off here and then drift with the current to our pickup point, where Umar and Aziz will be anchored with the boat.” The two captains grinned and waved from the wheelhouse, each of them with a cigarette between their fingers.
There were nods and murmurs of excitement among the other ten divers. It was going to be a gong show down there with all the fins and tanks searching for sea life. Rob was not looking forward to it.
Slowly, like beached seals, the divers waddled their way to the edge and bailed in, sinking beneath the briny deep until they were nothing but shadows and bubbles.
Skyler and Rob were at the end.
Leave the most awkward for last?
It seemed that way.
Body language was important when you were under the water. It could mean the difference between resurfacing or sinking, life or death. You and your dive buddy needed to be on the same page, have each other’s back and not take any chances. If one person took a chance, it could mean neither saw the surface again.
There’s the age-old saying about marriage, “never go to sleep angry.” The same should apply to scuba diving. Never go under mad, because it can mess with your partnership, mess with the rapport and be dangerous for everyone.
It was alarming how different this dive was in comparison with their first one just a day before. Had it been because they’d slept together? Or was it the night terrors? Or was it both? Either way, Rob knew he and Skyler were not on the same page when they deflated their BCDs and descended into the deep. Rob kept losing her and having to spin around in a circle, only to swim against the strong current to make his way back to her. Was she doing this shit deliberately? Or were they really just that out of sync?
Can you be that “in sync” with a woman you hardly know? Especially one who is just a “job,” like you keep telling yourself she is?
Fucking internal thoughts. They were all you had when you were meters below sea level with your mouth full of a regulator.
You want her to be more than a job. You want her to be more than a quick fling. You want her.
Grumbling to himself and shaking his head at the stupid thoughts parading through his skull, Rob spun around using his flippers and the current to look for Skyler. Only this time, there was no flash of an orange-tipped flipper that told him she was just to his left behind a lump of coral and rock. No. She was nowhere to be found.
They were on a drift dive, so the bottom was rather flat, and the current ran diagonally against the reef. Where the hell was she?
They’d all split up into groups, staggering themselves roughly twenty or so meters apart so as to not overlap and swim on top of each other. He grabbed onto a large rock and scanned the area. There were no other divers, no other bubbles or flashes of silver from the tanks.
Had he gone off course?
He was pretty sure he was right where he should be. They’d been down for just over twenty minutes and still had another twenty or so to go.
If he resurfaced to look for Skyler, he couldn’t go back down.
He had a strong hold on the rock, but the current continued to try to pull him along. He also knew that if he held on any longer, Skyler would be unreachable if she was that far ahead. He needed to find her. And he needed to find her fast.
Reluctantly, he released the rock and let the current take him. Instead of kicking in an attempt to steer himself, he turned around so he was facing forward and let the water push him where it wished. His pressure gauge said he was okay for air, but he couldn’t be down too much longer, and he certainly couldn’t go any deeper. Keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary, he continued to drift. Who knew where the boat was? Or the other divers? Perhaps Skyler was already safe back on the boat and he was the one getting lost and about to drift off to Papua New Guinea.
“Querida,” he purred, coming to stand next to the bed. He offered her his hand, and this time, she took it without hesitation. “I might not be able to get it up at the moment, but that doesn’t mean I can’t help you.”
She had to keep herself from skipping as she followed him into the bathroom. Oh boy, had she ever hit the jackpot.
They’d spent the better part of the night doing despicable things to each other. Despicably wonderful things. It was still dark out when Skyler figured she’d finally fallen asleep in Rob’s bed, but it wouldn’t be dark out for long. The adhan would start soon, and the gentle noises of the morning in a Muslim country would soon begin.
But at the moment, she was deep in dreamland. Rob hadn’t said she couldn’t stay over, and since he’d fallen asleep with his arms around her, after they’d had a sleepy round of spoon-style sex, she couldn’t really leave even if she wanted to.
Which she didn’t.
She’d asked for one night.
And technically it was still that night.
Rob had rolled over to his own side of the bed, and Skyler was tucked up on her own side. Neither of them had bothered with the blanket, but Skyler did go and grab her purse from the porch and pulled her green and pink sarong out of it, using it to cover her legs and torso. She usually just slept with a light cover over her anyway. Enough to keep the chills away, as well as the bugs. Especially since they hadn’t bothered to unfurl the mosquito netting from above, something she usually did in her own cabin.
She felt him before she heard him. A swift jab in the back from what could only have been an elbow, followed by a loud, almost roar-like sound. Then he was up off the bed and on his feet, yelling and slashing his arms around as if his hand held a knife and he was stabbing something … or someone.
She sat bolt upright in the bed and watched him, unable to move from the shock, but also the fear.
He was dreaming.
He had to be.
She had dreams, too. Bad ones, and she knew that it wasn’t always wise to get in the middle of the dream, especially a physical nightmare like this one.
Usually her dreams consisted of her screaming and falling, being chased, being tied up and tortured and then eventually shot. That’s usually when she woke up in a heavy sweat, with tears in her eyes and fear in her heart.
But Rob’s dream was different. He was angry. There was no fear on his face or in his eyes. No, that was rage that gleamed there, pure, white-hot rage.
She barely knew this man, knew nothing of his past, only what he and her alleged brothers had told her. And yet she trusted him.
Had that been a huge mistake?
Was he dangerous?
Should she just leave?
Could she?
Swallowing, she swung her legs out on her side of the bed, planting her feet on the cool floorboards. She noticed his pocket knife on the windowsill and grabbed it, flicking the blade out and hiding it in her hand.
She licked her lips and went for it.
Chapter 9
Rob
“Rob!”
He had to kill the fucker. He had to end his life. He needed to save the baby, save the kids. So many to save. But first, the fucker had to die. The baby’s screams pierced his ears. They were cries of agony, cries for help. He had to help her.
“Rob! Roberto Cahill!”
He shook his head at the sound of his name. It was definitely a woman’s voice. But there were no women on his team.
“Roberto Cahill, wake up. You need to wake up.”
Wake up?
Something soft and pillow-like smacked him in the face, then another. He blinked. Blinked again, and that’s when he saw that he wasn’t in the ten-story apartment, and there was no man he needed to kill, no children he needed to save.
But there was a woman.
A naked woman, and she stood there, on the other side of the bed, his knife terribly concealed in her hand, and she looked absolutely terrified.
Oh fuck. What had he done?
She was proving to be as stubborn as she was beautiful, and even though the cat was now out of the bag and Skyler knew everything, she still wasn’t ready to head to Moorea and meet her brothers.
Ready to flee in the dead of night if need be, but unwilling to screw over her co-workers and miss a dive if she didn’t have to. The woman was a paradox.
Embarrassed about what had happened earlier and how he’d handled things, Rob took off for another run. He needed to blow off some steam and think. He hadn’t been to see his therapist in ages because he’d been so busy chasing this phantasm of a woman. The mindfulness and meditation had their place, as did the exercise, but they weren’t enough. And nights when he was more exhausted than normal brought on the terrors.
How much longer could he keep this up? The job, the dreams, they were slowly killing him.
He jumped into the shower after his run, but for once, he didn’t need to use his hand. He’d had the real thing, and it’d blown his fucking mind. Now he wasn’t sure he’d be able to go back to his hand and imagination when it came to Skyler. No, the woman was too real, too incredible, too insatiable for him to make do with his hand.
He could have canceled going out on the dive that morning, could have just sat on his porch and read a book, meditated or done some push-ups, but Roberto Luis Cahill was no coward. He showed up on that dock with his shoulders back and his head held high. Sure, he was embarrassed that Skyler had witnessed him at his weakest and most vulnerable, but he was also a Navy SEAL who had carried more of his fallen brothers over his shoulder back to base than he could count, had stitched up his own thigh wound with the bone sticking out, without an anesthetic and in the dark, and babysat both of his nieces for an entire afternoon on his own. He did not shy away from the difficult. He didn’t even shy away from the impossible.
Yeah, but you didn’t exactly handle it with much maturity either.
No, he hadn’t.
When he’d finally woken up properly and saw her standing there naked, armed and afraid, he’d done what he thought was right at the time—he’d kicked her out.
Nicely, of course. Kind of.
He’d brushed it off as if the dream hadn’t happened and then said she should probably just head back to her own cabin because he didn’t like to sleep with the mosquito net and she had at least three bites on her thigh alone.
Yeah, he’d been that big of a fucking idiot. He’d made up some lame-ass excuse about mosquito nets and bites and kicked her out.
But it also seemed like she’d gone all too willingly. He’d watched as she quietly, with a slight tremble to her hand, gathered her things and hastily got dressed. It was probably dark enough out that she could have ducked next door to her cabin naked and not been caught, but he waited for her to pull her dress over her head before opening the door for her.
She also still had his knife.
“Hey.”
Rob jumped, swinging out to block a punch. His body immediately leapt into survival mode.
“Whoa,” Skyler said, coming up behind him, towing a wagon with a bunch of full dive tanks.
Fuck.
His pulse thundered in his ears as he forced his muscles to relax. He needed to get a grip. He needed to stop going into attack mode whenever someone approached him from behind.
Shoving his hands into the pockets of his board shorts, he nodded before averting his eyes. “Hey.”
“You okay?” she asked.
Now she was the epitome of maturity. And grace.
He’d fucking kicked her ass out of his cabin after a night of jaw-dropping sex and she’d witnessed his night terror, and she was still giving him the time of day.
“Fine.”
“Up for a drift dive today?” she asked, making sure to keep the wagon of tanks between them.
Grabbing his wet suit off the rack, he nodded. “Sounds good.”
“Cool.” Then she wheeled the wagon down the dock toward the boat, not bothering to look back at him.
Oh, this wasn’t going to be awkward at all.
Fortunately, the boat was busy, and Skyler spent the ride to the dive site in the galley helping prepare lunch. It seemed like she was just as uncomfortable about addressing the previous night as he was.
Did she think less of him?
Was she afraid of him?
In all his years of having night terrors and dealing with his PTSD from his time in service, he’d never been violent. And this was with women in his bed. He’d never hurt them or attacked them in his sleep, thinking they were the enemy. He’d never acted on his instinct when someone snuck up on him, but that didn’t stop him from reacting and behaving like he was ready to kill.
Because he was a killer.
Rob had killed.
All bad guys. But he was still a killer.
But, unlike just telling people not to sneak up on you, the problem with night terrors was you never knew when they’d strike or how they’d manifest. Sometimes he would simply yell in his sleep and thrash. Other nights he would wake up in a cold sweat, panicking and thinking he was still in the field, hearing bombing and explosions off in the distance.
It was the fact that they were so unpredictable and alarming that scared most women away. They didn’t know how to handle him. Or help him.
And it didn’t help that in the morning, Rob was usually distant and dismissive. This was why he never spent the night anymore. And if he couldn’t avoid a sleepover, he slept on the couch once the sex was over.
Rob snorted and shook his head as he stood on the bow of the big yellow dive boat as it headed out to sea. He was primo husband material. Couldn’t even share a bed with a woman for fear of screaming and thrashing in his sleep … or worse.
He was lost in thought when he felt someone come up behind him. Even though the wind was blowing toward him, he could tell it was her. She had a presence. An aura unlike any other woman he’d met. It was not only warm and comforting, but it also held a touch of sadness. She was hesitant to approach him. He could feel her apprehension.
Rob could just hear his brother, Eddie, now. “That’s some pretty hippy dippy bullshit, there, bro. Her aura? Can you also tell what she had for lunch by smelling her farts? For fuck’s sake.”
But call it what you will, hippy dippy shit, his Navy SEAL training or a deeper connection to the air around him, Rob felt her come up behind him. She was keeping her distance, though.
Fuck, he hated that he’d put that kind of fear into her.
He spun around to face her before she spoke. He needed to let her know he’d never hurt her. At least not on purpose.
The sun was behind her, illuminating her hair and the unruly wisps that had escaped her updo like a golden halo. She really was an angel on earth.
“We’re almost there. You ready?”
He nodded. “Yeah, sure.”
“Cool. You’re with me.”
“It’s a packed boat. You sure it’s just the two of us?” He couldn’t decide if he wanted to share her or not. They’d had such a great time on that first dive, just the two of them, and then their time in bed last night … wow! But things were awkward. Would someone else break the tension or just add to it?
“Just the two of us,” she said, without giving any more of an explanation. She didn’t move away, either. The two of them stood there on the bow in silence, the warm tropical wind slashing across their faces as the morning sun beat down on them from behind. Even though it was a few hours before lunch, the heat of the day was upon them, and the only reprieve was the breeze.
“We going to talk?” Skyler asked, after several long, quiet moments. “About last night, I mean.”
Rob made a noise in his throat. “Nothin’ to talk about,” he said quickly, instantly regretting the snap to his tone. He wasn’t a mean person or a grouch. His mother had raised him better than that. He was about to open his mouth to apologize when Skyler cut him off.
“All right then. If you say so. Be ready in five.” Then she wandered off.
Fuck.
Rob had never botched a mission quite so epically as he had this one. Rule number one: Don’t piss off your target. Rule number two: Don’t sleep with your target. Rule number three: Don’t fall for your target.
He’d done them all.
“All right, everyone,” announced Fritz, one of the other dive masters. “We’re nearing our drop site. If everyone wants to come, suit up and double check with their buddy.”
Peeling himself off the bow, Rob made his way down to the equipment storage. Skyler was already there. She’d ditched the green dress and was now in a black bikini top that set Rob’s pulse racing. Her wet suit was peeled down to her waist.
Lifting her head up from where she’d been checking the air on her tank, she gave him a single nod and continued on with her work.
Oh yeah, this dive wasn’t going to be uncomfortable at all.
Avoiding eye contact with everyone, he suited up. Then, unlike last time, at the last minute he pulled his dive knife from out of his bag and fastened it to his ankle.
“Check me?” Skyler asked, coming up to him, her wet suit now fully on, as well as her goggles, tank, and Buoyancy Control Device, or BCD, which was a vest that was attached to the tank and inflated or deflated with air to help the diver sink or float.
Rob nodded, then began going over her gear. She did the same with his gear.
Everything was just so awkward.
Would she follow him to Moorea tomorrow? Or had he blown the mission last night?
When they surfaced, he needed to talk to her. Make her see that Moorea was what was safest for her. He was here to bring her to her brothers, nothing else. The sex, although it’d been fantastic, was a one-time thing. He’d drop her off, collect his payment and be gone. She didn’t need to worry about him having another night terror in bed with her, because it was never going to happen again.
The boat had come to a stop, and one of the deckhands had thrown over the anchor. Unlike the dives before, they weren’t on any kind of discernible reef or island. The bottom was faintly visible down below, but from the looks of things, the current was moving quickly.
“All right, folks. We’re doing a drift dive today,” Fritz piped up, decked out head to toe in his dive gear. “Meaning, we’ll drop off here and then drift with the current to our pickup point, where Umar and Aziz will be anchored with the boat.” The two captains grinned and waved from the wheelhouse, each of them with a cigarette between their fingers.
There were nods and murmurs of excitement among the other ten divers. It was going to be a gong show down there with all the fins and tanks searching for sea life. Rob was not looking forward to it.
Slowly, like beached seals, the divers waddled their way to the edge and bailed in, sinking beneath the briny deep until they were nothing but shadows and bubbles.
Skyler and Rob were at the end.
Leave the most awkward for last?
It seemed that way.
Body language was important when you were under the water. It could mean the difference between resurfacing or sinking, life or death. You and your dive buddy needed to be on the same page, have each other’s back and not take any chances. If one person took a chance, it could mean neither saw the surface again.
There’s the age-old saying about marriage, “never go to sleep angry.” The same should apply to scuba diving. Never go under mad, because it can mess with your partnership, mess with the rapport and be dangerous for everyone.
It was alarming how different this dive was in comparison with their first one just a day before. Had it been because they’d slept together? Or was it the night terrors? Or was it both? Either way, Rob knew he and Skyler were not on the same page when they deflated their BCDs and descended into the deep. Rob kept losing her and having to spin around in a circle, only to swim against the strong current to make his way back to her. Was she doing this shit deliberately? Or were they really just that out of sync?
Can you be that “in sync” with a woman you hardly know? Especially one who is just a “job,” like you keep telling yourself she is?
Fucking internal thoughts. They were all you had when you were meters below sea level with your mouth full of a regulator.
You want her to be more than a job. You want her to be more than a quick fling. You want her.
Grumbling to himself and shaking his head at the stupid thoughts parading through his skull, Rob spun around using his flippers and the current to look for Skyler. Only this time, there was no flash of an orange-tipped flipper that told him she was just to his left behind a lump of coral and rock. No. She was nowhere to be found.
They were on a drift dive, so the bottom was rather flat, and the current ran diagonally against the reef. Where the hell was she?
They’d all split up into groups, staggering themselves roughly twenty or so meters apart so as to not overlap and swim on top of each other. He grabbed onto a large rock and scanned the area. There were no other divers, no other bubbles or flashes of silver from the tanks.
Had he gone off course?
He was pretty sure he was right where he should be. They’d been down for just over twenty minutes and still had another twenty or so to go.
If he resurfaced to look for Skyler, he couldn’t go back down.
He had a strong hold on the rock, but the current continued to try to pull him along. He also knew that if he held on any longer, Skyler would be unreachable if she was that far ahead. He needed to find her. And he needed to find her fast.
Reluctantly, he released the rock and let the current take him. Instead of kicking in an attempt to steer himself, he turned around so he was facing forward and let the water push him where it wished. His pressure gauge said he was okay for air, but he couldn’t be down too much longer, and he certainly couldn’t go any deeper. Keeping his eyes peeled for anything out of the ordinary, he continued to drift. Who knew where the boat was? Or the other divers? Perhaps Skyler was already safe back on the boat and he was the one getting lost and about to drift off to Papua New Guinea.
