Going Down (Divemasters #1) (10 page)

F
loating beside each other
, kicking lazily, the pack of snorkelers skimmed over the reef. Archer noticed things she never would have seen from this far away, making sure to draw everyone’s attention to the highlights.

Waverly couldn’t wait for her next opportunity to dive. Once she’d experienced SCUBA, snorkeling didn’t cut it. Not when you wanted an up-close, full-immersion experience. It was fun, just not the same.

With her eyes glued to the reef, she noticed a dark green splotch start to move in a direction contrary to the ebb and sway of the soft corals. She lifted her head high enough that she could take her snorkel out of her mouth and call, “Turtle!”

Then she held out her arm, pointing toward the creature that ascended in their general direction for a breath of air.

“Please remember not to touch it or spook it if it comes near you,” Archer educated their guests. “Turtles need oxygen. We don’t ever want to risk trapping it beneath the surface if it needs to breathe.”

The snorkelers made room for the turtle. Their lack of threatening gestures convinced the little guy that it was okay to come closer and they all ended up scoring a better view. After their new friend had wandered off in search of his next meal, Archer steered the group back toward the
Divemaster.

“It’s funny how the turtle hardly moves its fins and yet it’s still faster than me,” Waverly bitched, wishing she was half as graceful in the water.

“You seem like you’re doing just fine to me. Made it to that woman in a flash earlier.” Warmth and pride colored his comment in return, making her stomach flutter as if she’d swallowed one of those small, schooling fish whole. “If we didn’t have the group with us, I’d race you back to the boat.”

“Next time.” Waverly had developed her competitive side in the Navy.

When they reached the
Divemaster
, Miguel climbed aboard and began to assist people as they grew tired and exited the water. Waverly and Archer remained.

For her, she simply didn’t want to leave the relaxing water any time soon.

For him, he kept an eye on every last person, making sure they got their fill of the activity safely.

Eventually, it was just the two of them, floating near the swim line that trailed behind the boat. It was ingenious. The rope had plastic bubbles spaced periodically along its length. Each end of the line was attached to one of the back corners of the boat and the slack drifted out forming a semi-circle. It acted as a corral, keeping their pool noodles, inflatable rafts, and other toys from escaping to the open ocean.

They took off their gear and piled it on the ship’s platform so they could enjoy a simple swim unhindered, then collected anything else left behind by the guests as it floated within the swim line. When they were finished, he turned toward the ladder that dipped into the water off the back of the ship.

“Mind if we stay just five minutes more?” she asked him—begging, really, since swimming in the ocean alone was definitely not allowed.

“You sound like me. Nah, I could do this all day.” He grinned then put his arms up on the swim line, his body rising to the surface, ankles crossed, as he stared up at the clouds overhead. Completely relaxed.

In his element.

Waverly licked her lips.

“Pretty woman. Sunshine. Ocean breeze. Have Miguel toss me a beer and I’m good for the next week or two,” he elaborated.

“So, you still think I’m pretty, even though I’m not so feminine anymore?” She hated herself for asking, but the question had slipped out before she could stop it. “Can’t remember the last time I wore a fancy dress or had a manicure.”

He looked at her like she was crazy then. “I didn’t like you for your wardrobe.”

Waverly thought back on their encounters. He’d always been the aggressor. Showing her just how much he wanted her.

Now, though, he was clearly not about to budge.

Conveniently, she’d gotten a hell of a lot bolder since then.

She swam close enough that she could see the droplets sparkling like diamonds on his eyelashes. Still, he only stared back at her. His hands never moved from that damn rope.

Why? Could it be he wasn’t interested anymore?

“Would you like me if
I
kissed
you
right now?” she whispered.

“You’re calling all the shots here.” Archer reclined, letting the buoys do their job and keep him afloat as he lazily treaded water.

Maybe it was his thing these days to let women come to him. She had no problem with that.

“Am I?” She drifted closer still.

The wake of a passing boat finished the job, shoving her into him. Her hands landed on his bare chest. He hissed as if she’d scorched him.

Waverly peered up at him, full of mischief, and wondered if her eyes reminded him of the ocean he loved so much. He seemed like he couldn’t stop looking into them. Hell, he didn’t even blink. “In that case…I think I’d like to forget the past twelve years—especially yesterday—ever happened and say hello to you properly.”

She wound her arms around his neck and levered against his shoulders to lift herself out of the water enough that his mouth was within reach. Gently, she pressed her lips to his and began to kiss him.

Far more patient now that he was grown, he didn’t devour her in response.

Admitting that disappointed her just a little, she took it upon herself to taunt him into surrendering some of his newfound control. Waverly missed the unabashed passion he’d shared with her in those never-forgotten kisses.

She wanted this one to be every bit as memorable for them both.

When she paused, peering up to see his reaction, she didn’t necessarily like what she saw. So she separated them a tiny bit.

“Isn’t this weird for you?” He stared at her, worried.

“It wasn’t until you asked that.” She lost some of her enthusiasm. “Now it kind of is.”

Still, she tried one more time to recapture their spark.

Waverly wrapped her legs around Archer’s trim hips, hugging him so she didn’t drown when she lost herself in the taste of salt and his mouth. His hand came up, cupping her ass to keep them steady when he returned her kiss and deepened it.

Finally!

She sucked on his tongue, teasing him into dipping inside her mouth. Hints emerged of the Archer she had known and—

Known and
wanted to fuck
, she substituted mentally.

Kiss by kiss, he grew bolder until she felt his cock start to make its presence known against the softness of her belly. There was no hiding when two thin layers of Lycra were all that separated them.

Waverly moaned—twice when he bit her bottom lip.

“You getting out,
Archie
?” Tosin called from above. When he peeked over the edge and realized why they’d suddenly gotten so quiet, he said, “Oops. Don’t mind me! I didn’t see anything. Much.”

Backpedaling, he disappeared from view.

But the spell had been broken.

“I can’t do this.” Archer broke away, breathing hard.

Was it because his friend had busted them sucking face like the teenagers they’d once been?

“I’m sorry. Until we’ve really talked, in private, and I can apologize properly…” That again? Ugh. She’d thought they’d gotten past that, but he kept bringing it up. Killing her buzz. “Maybe not even then, Waverly. It just doesn’t feel right.”

Funny, it had felt perfect to her.

“Okay.” She let go and swam for the ladder, hoping he hadn’t glimpsed the disappointment carved on her face. The last thing she wanted was his pity.

“Wait. Don’t go. Have lunch with me?” Archer asked as he climbed up behind her, probably not even taking the opportunity to check out her ass.

Silent as she swiped salt water from her legs, she debated declining. Had pretty much decided that it would be for the best if all he was going to do was knot her up inside and send her mixed signals. That would make this job hell.

“Hey,” he said softly, drawing her attention back to him. “I’m sorry, okay? Just…this one time can we put it all out on the table? Then we never have to mention it again. I swear. Deal?”

Fine. “Let’s get this over with.”

Archer nodded. Then he used a nearby intercom to request lunch for two be served on the private sundeck off his quarters. At least they agreed about something. Interruptions would be unwelcome.

Unfortunately, she suspected they believed it for entirely different reasons.

W
averly tried
to act like it was no big deal when Archer admitted her into his personal space. Not because they were
finally
adults who could do whatever they damn well felt like. Or because they were alone in what was essentially his bedroom. But because even for former rich kids like them, this place was spec-tac-u-lar.

She twirled around in the center of the cabin, which was more like some fancy conservatory than sleeping chambers with the glass everywhere. Cover blown, probably.

He chuckled at her delight. “You haven’t even seen the best part yet.”

Archer waved her over to the accordion doors that essentially removed the entire wall, opening the cabin onto his own personal sundeck, complete with a double-wide lounge bed thingy, a table for two, and a jetted hot tub. She might never leave.

Wow.

“Not going to lie, it
is
pretty awesome, huh?” His smile was crooked, one corner of his lips lifting higher than the other, accenting his hawkish nose and jaw line. She thought he could pass for a slightly paler version of an Arabian prince.

“Uh huh.” She nodded then sank onto one of the chairs at the table.

None too soon, either. Someone knocked.

Archer called to grant them permission to serve lunch. Maybe he was better off than that prince after all, she thought with a laugh.

“What’s so funny?” he wondered aloud as their server, Maria, presented plates of cheese, meats, hardboiled eggs, and fruit. Freshly baked bread, too.

Her stomach gurgled happily at the smells wafting from the tray to her nose. She waited until they’d thanked Maria, and the woman left, before answering.

“This whole situation, really.” She shrugged. “How did we go from riches to rags and back to riches? Well, I mean, not that I’m loaded, but working here is plenty good enough.”

Archer sat next to her. He plucked some grapes from the assortment, popping them into his mouth. “What do you mean by that? Yeah, I walked away from my dad’s fortune. But…you…how’d you end up in the military? Did your dad disapprove when you told him you wanted to join the Navy? Is that why you went rags? I have to admit, that surprised the shit out of me.”

“I could tell.” She remembered the utter disbelief on his face when she’d told him her name the day before. “I have no idea if my dad approves of what I do. Or if he’s proud of me. Things turned out as well as they could have, I guess. But it started out with pure desperation. I mean, in a single day my dad got locked up, my mom took the easy way out with all those pills she swallowed, and the feds seized everything we had. I’d just turned eighteen a couple of days before, so they considered me an adult. I was out on the street. On my own. I was never really close with any of the girls at school, remember? And after so many scandals, well, you know how it is. I was the drama llama. Unwelcome. Didn’t have many options, to be honest.”

“Time out.” Archer was shaking his head. He dropped his fork and scrubbed his hands over his face. “Nothing you’re saying makes sense to me. I have about twelve more questions now. Your dad did what? Your mom committed
suicide
? Jesus, Waverly! And the feds? What the fuck?”

“Oh.” She tried to remember the details of the timing. With so much shit raining down on her at once, it had been kind of hard to keep up. And she hadn’t even told him the worst of it yet.

That’s right—he’d left soon before her life had imploded. She knew for sure because a day or two or three after someone had obviously tasted blood in the water and attacked her, knowing no one would give a fuck, she’d taken a taxi straight to Archer after being discharged, looking for help or maybe simply solace. She wasn’t sure anymore.

Probably hadn’t been very clear on the matter then either, given the fog that had lingered in her brain for more than a week afterward. She couldn’t honestly remember much of anything. Including who had found her and taken her to the hospital in the first place. She did know it had been touch and go there for a while, so she definitely owed her life to whoever had looked out for her.

When she’d knocked on the door to the guesthouse behind Archer’s father’s mansion, where Archer had been staying since he’d graduated high school the year before, the door had swung open. Things were strewn about and his luggage was missing.

He’d already vanished.

That discovery had been traumatic, which was likely why she remembered the stabbing pain she’d felt then so vividly given the haziness of everything before and after it.

How she’d wished she could have gone with him wherever he’d vanished to. Hopefully somewhere a million miles away. Maybe that was what had pushed her to enlist. Or to accept the position on his ship now. It felt like coming full circle.

Archer was staring at her, waiting for her to explain.

Easy stuff first. “Turns out my dad is a sack of dog crap.”

“I know the feeling,” he commiserated.

“Well, mine is also a criminal. He’s rotting in jail. Got busted for scamming your dad and a bunch of their friends out of millions of dollars. Everything we had became evidence in his trial and was eventually used to repay a fraction of what his victims had lost.” She sighed then, finally realizing one thing that had gotten her hackles up wasn’t a concern. “I guess I wondered if you freaked when you realized it was me on your team yesterday because you thought I might be untrustworthy like him.”

“What?” Archer’s brow scrunched. He scratched his cheek, then looked out to sea as if it was too hard to meet her stare. “No. I’ve only ever thought the best of you. Don’t judge me by my old man. This seed fell far from that fucked-up tree. So did yours, obviously.”

“I’m glad you feel that way,” she admitted softly. “When I realized you had left without saying goodbye back then, I was kind of surprised myself. I thought we had something going, you know?”

“I didn’t figure you’d want to see me. Or anybody, really.”

Because her mother had killed herself? Or because she was mortified by her father’s actions? She was growing more perplexed. He’d just admitted he hadn’t known about any of that.

If he had, he would have damn well been sure she had needed a friend. Him.

That only left one other thing.

Could he know about
that
? He must. Nothing else made sense.

But how? And had her assault made him think less of her? She shoved that thought away. It had taken a long time—and a lot of counseling—to wrangle those types of insidious self-judgments and beat them into submission. She did her best. Every once in a while, her old insecurities and scars showed themselves.

She must have been quiet too long.

“I am
so
sorry, Waverly.”

Oh yeah, he definitely knew. Was
that
why he’d kept his hands to himself before?

How had he found out about her attack but not her father’s fuck-ups or her mother’s death? Why hadn’t he reached out to see if she was okay? She hadn’t been. He could have made an enormous difference. Instead of allowing anger or sadness to well up, she remembered that she’d taken care of herself and put it behind her. “It was a long time ago.”

“No amount of time can erase something like that.”

She shrugged. “I’ve accepted it. Moved on as best as I can. The hardest part was not knowing—who or why, I mean. Never being able to bring my attacker to justice or simply stare him in the eye and ask how he could have been such a coward as to drug and rape a barely legal girl.”

* * *

W
hat
?

Archer blinked. Suddenly it all made sense—why Waverly had come here, how she could stand to be around him.

She had no fucking clue.

Son of a bitch!

He might not have done the right thing back then, but he wasn’t about to make the same mistake twice. No matter the consequences. He deserved her loathing and any other repercussions for telling the truth.

“Waverly,” he croaked as bile eroded his esophagus. “I can fix that for you at least.”

“What do you mean?” She tipped her head, nibbling on her lower lip.

“The man who did such a horrible thing to you…who hurt you so bad…” He drew a shaking breath, nearly crushing the tabletop in his hands, which gripped the edge as if he were clinging for dear life lest he be washed overboard in the storm brewing around them. “It was me. I’m so,
so
sorry.”

Her head whipped back as if he’d sucker punched her. Then she flew from the table, knocking the chair over in her haste to escape. He wanted nothing more than to go to her, to keep her from falling as he had once in a place far, far away, but he wouldn’t dare advance on her or make any moves that could be interpreted as threatening.

No wonder she’d accepted his apology so readily this morning. She hadn’t even known what he’d been begging forgiveness for.

Trembling all over, pale as an albino fish’s belly, she staggered away from him.

The only thing she said before she disappeared inside was, “I quit.”

“I understand.” Archer felt as though he’d gotten sucked into the ship’s propellers where blades chopped him to bits. Nothing in him remained untouched, unscathed, or unbroken. His heart and soul were minced. Yet the only thing he cared about was Waverly.

He slapped his hand on the intercom. “Banks!”

“Archie? What’s wrong?”

“It’s Waverly. Find her. Help her. Whatever she needs. Tell her to take the chopper if she wants, but make damn sure she’s sound to fly before you let her take off.” He couldn’t bear the thought of something happening to her because of him.

Again.

“Are
you
okay, Archie?”

“No.” He didn’t elaborate. “But Banks, anything she tells you, believe it. It’s true. All of it.”

He groaned as he imagined the extent of the man’s shock and disappointment in him. “If you would like to go with her, I don’t blame you. I’m sorry.”

“Archie!”

With a vile curse, he took his hand off the intercom button. Then he locked the doors to his cabin. He wasn’t fit company for anyone.

And might never be again.