Going Down (Divemasters #1) (4 page)

Archer picked at his lionfish nuggets, which suddenly seemed like a mountain of a meal. “Yeah.”

“You’re worse off than if you
had
caught some crotch funk.” Miguel stopped and stared. “This has been our goal for the past dozen years. Doing exactly what we love until we get bored and move to the next gorgeous place where we can start exploring all over again. Haven’t we always said we’re the luckiest bastards in the world?”

He nodded. “We
are
. We totally are. We’ve travelled around the globe, seen incredible things—”

“Given lady tourists the vacation fling of a lifetime,” Miguel added with an exaggerated jab or two of a French fry topped with Dutch mayo sauce.

Archer probably would have laughed if what he wanted to say wasn’t so serious. “What if we’re capable of something equally awesome and more meaningful?”

“Hey, it may not be brain surgery or ending hunger, but I think showing people the time of their lives underwater or in my bed is a valuable contribution to society. And I also happen to enjoy it. Thoroughly.” Tosin pounded himself on the chest.

He did have a reputation for pleasing his partners. Hell, each of them did.

“You’re right.” Archer choked down another tasteless bite of what was usually his favorite meal. Then he slammed the rest of his beer, as if that would soothe his parched throat.

“Don’t bail on us now, Archer.” Miguel frowned. “We’re a team. This is what we do, who we are. Divemasters. That’s always been good enough before.”

“It still is,” he was quick to reassure them. “Always will be. Forget I said anything.”

“Sure.” Tosin nodded so fast he might have given himself whiplash. On their previous day off, he’d leapt from the cliffs at Boca Slagbaai without thinking twice. He probably found that a million times less daunting than this heartfelt discussion they were stumbling through.

Before things could deteriorate into some sloppy show of their devotion to their best friends, Miguel lightened the mood. Right when Archer went to wipe his hands on his napkin, his friend dove forward, snatching it from his grasp. Then he crashed into the sand, holding the scrap of recycled paper aloft in his fist.

“Waste not, want not. Since you’re not interested…”

“Go for it.” Archer laughed. The hottie—he’d learn her name tomorrow, he promised himself—
had
caught his eye. Beautiful and carefree, she might have tempted him if he hadn’t decided that sex should involve something more than a temporary endorphin rush from now on. It would be another way to distinguish himself from his father. Besides, he knew from experience that as great as casual sex was, it had nothing on sleeping with someone whose top three attributes were something greater than her tits, her ass, and her willingness to give him a blowjob.

Although that last one might be a keeper, the other two should probably be shit like shared interests or a similar sense of humor.

Archer hadn’t allowed himself to believe he’d have another shot at a genuine connection like that in his lifetime. Or maybe he’d been too scared to find it, only to fuck it up royally. Again.

Miguel returned from getting seconds he didn’t really need just to chat some more with the cute young kite surfer slash food truck worker. He splayed on the sand like a beached whale and let out a world-class belch. “I’m never eating again.”

“Yeah, sure.” Tosin laughed. “You know you say that like twice a week, right?”

“I mean it. At least until breakfast.” He grinned. “But I don’t plan to move from this spot for a while.”

“Fine by me.” Archer could listen to the waves for hours as he watched iguanas scamper through the dusty soil or up the divi divi trees surrounding their oasis. Soon the sun would set. Then maybe they’d start a fire and hang out under the stars as they had plenty of other times.

Close to Kralendijk, the largest town on Bonaire, they had a great view of the comings and goings from the island’s main harbor. A departing cruise ship shrank on the horizon as her thousands of passengers prepared to invade and overwhelm the port at their next destination.

Focused on the pair of tugboats returning to their stations after helping the ship out to sea, Archer didn’t realize there was another large vessel on the horizon at first.

“Wow. Check that out.” Miguel practically purred as he drew Archer and Tosin’s attention to the incoming megayacht.

Archer’s stomach churned. He slapped the lid of his takeout box closed. So much for that.

He swallowed hard as he studied the sleek profile of the ship, more impressive than he remembered. This was it. His time had run out.

Please, let him have done the right thing.

Tosin stood, shielding his eyes against the lowering sun for a better view. “It’s gotta be over two-hundred feet. We might not be the luckiest bastards in the world after all. Imagine the guy who can afford something like that. Damn.”

Archer didn’t have to. “She’s actually 273 feet long. Has room for a crew of sixteen plus twenty-five guests comfortably. Specialized dive platforms, two rigid-hull inflatable boats, and gear areas. A pool, medical center, fitness and rec room, three sun decks, pretty much anything you can think of.”

“You know that boat?” Miguel squinted, as if he could read the name freshly painted on the bow. It wouldn’t have mattered. This vessel wasn’t one they’d seen in a past port they’d visited.

“Yep. She’s mine,” Archer admitted, then prayed he wasn’t about to destroy the best thing he’d ever had.

Their friendship.

M
iguel and Tosin cracked up
. Tosin shoved Archer’s shoulder, toppling him into the sand beside the blanket. “You own a megayacht. Right. You had me going for a minute there, asshole.”

Archer shrugged, dusted himself off, then figured he might as well start playing his cards. If he wasn’t about to crap his trunks, it might even be kind of fun to see their reactions once they realized he wasn’t fucking with them after all.

“What if it was true, though?” Archer pressed on. “Imagine that instead of jamming our stuff into a beat-up old duffle bag and taking off from here, we never had to pack again. We’d each have our own cabin onboard. A permanent home that moves with us. One a hell of a lot nicer than the places we’ve stayed before, too.”

Archer wasn’t referring to the marble and teak finishes the staterooms boasted. He meant the plush beds, world-class diving facilities, and the gorgeous natural light that would pour through the large cabin windows. The ability to go anywhere, anytime they felt like it. Those luxuries he could get behind, though Miguel and Tosin might not reject opulence for the sake of it like he did.

The guys started to get in on it then, making Archer’s jaw unclench just a little. Miguel leaned back, knitted his fingers together, and let his hands rest on his washboard abs, still flat despite how much he’d gorged. “Hell yeah. We could run charters and escort rich people around the world. Show them the places we’ve discovered. Make a killing while we’re at it.”

“We could.” Archer cleared his throat. “Or…since, you know, we’d have to be rich enough to take golden dumps to own a yacht like that, we could let people come along for free. Figure out some way to invite remarkable and deserving guests to join us on an all-expenses-paid trip of a lifetime. Use our matching private jet to shuttle them to wherever we’re docked and go from there. Make people’s dreams come true. Only fair since we’d get to live ours.”

“I like that way better.” Tosin nodded. “Like some kind of seafaring Willy Wonka.”

Archer snorted. Only his dumbass friend would put it like that. Except, now that he had… “Yeah! We’d send out golden tickets or some shit, maybe sometimes auction off spots then donate the money to charities. Even better would be if there was a club on board so we could socialize. A place where people could unwind at night and make sure we’re never lonely out on the open ocean. Not that different from what we do today, just at a whole different level.”

“Now you’re talking.” Miguel grunted. “Make it a sex club—a hedonistic one like the places we went to in the Philippines—while you’re at it. I’ll sign up right now.”

“Seriously?” Archer held his breath.

“Yeah, I mean, do I look dumb?” He whipped his head around to stare at Archer. “Saying no to a gig like that would be as idiotic as you turning down prime pussy. Oh, wait…fucking moron.”

Unable to drag things out anymore, Archer asked, “Want to drive into town and watch her dock up close?”

“Sure. Maybe we can offer our services for a day or two if they’re staying until Wednesday,” Tosin suggested, referring to their next day off. “Hell, I’d volunteer just to score a tour. I bet that thing is ridiculous inside.”

It was.

“We’d better hurry. She’s fast. Must have a lot of horsepower below deck.” Tosin had already climbed to his feet, scooped up his blanket, and lifted the cooler to his shoulder. Miguel and Archer were right behind.

It only took them a few minutes to navigate the roundabout and the narrow, cluttered streets of Kralendijk. They parked island-style, halfway on the brick sidewalk near the market, which was rapidly emptying of vendors now that the cruise ship had departed.

“Come on,” Archer called to his friends as he unbuckled himself and headed for the dock. His anticipation grew, muffling some of his anxiety. The yacht was truly gorgeous. Sleek and modern. Not normally what attracted him. This time, he knew what that exterior held, though. He couldn’t wait to catch a glimpse of the hardwood decks or the elaborate diving setups he’d instructed Banks to arrange. Not to mention seeing the man himself.

Archer admitted he’d missed the guy, especially after working covertly with him the past several weeks to approve the establishment of the Banks Foundation and start outlining some of the programs it would support, like the one he was about to pitch to his friends. Banks had been the person Archer had always chosen to go to when he was growing up—for help, to confide in, for approval. His younger self’s judgment had been bang on. Banks was one of the good ones.

He’d made good time. The weather must not have been as bad as expected for their Atlantic crossing. Banks had cleaned house, hiring a brand-new crew that was aligned with Archer’s mission for the
Divemaster.
Then he’d overseen renovations and
transporting the yacht from where it had been docked in the Mediterranean for years, hardly ever used by Archer’s father, who’d only commissioned one of the biggest ships in the world because he could, and because he couldn’t stand for his associates or competitors to have something he didn’t.

That’s not at all what this was about for Archer.

“You coming?” he asked when Miguel put his arm up along the back of the seat and stared wistfully out the window.

“Our gear is in the back.” Miguel sighed. “I’ll stay with the truck. You two can check it out.”

Archer shook his head. Hell, let someone take their stuff. He’d already arranged for upgraded equipment—the top-of-the-line products each guy had drooled over in catalogs—to be onboard. “I’ll cover it up. It’ll be okay for a minute or two. We can see the lot from there.”

Archer rearranged the blankets to obscure their things.

“Not smart, but screw it. Let’s do it.” Tosin could never resist an adventure. Even unwise ones.

Maybe this was going to work out like Banks kept promising it would.

Miguel rounded the bed of the truck, joining them on the sidewalk. He pointed at the ship’s hull as they jogged down the dock. “Hey, cool! She’s called the
Divemaster
.”

“Then I guess they probably won’t be needing us.” Tosin damn near pouted, as if someone had just broken the news to him that he’d missed something rare on a dive, like the enormous whale shark Archer and Miguel had glimpsed on their final shift in Útila.

“Don’t rule it out yet,” Archer mumbled as they closed in.

They arrived at the end of the pier around the same time a deckhand maneuvered a motorized gangway into place. Archer didn’t bother to take a seat on the heavy-duty chain strung between two pilings like his friends did. Instead, he stood near the metal railing and waved at the man waiting at the other end of the bridge between Archer’s past and his future.

“Good afternoon, Archie.” Banks smiled and extended his hand as he glided down the gangway, as sophisticated as ever.

Archer skipped formality and used the grip to pull Banks in for a hug, earning a surprised grunt from the guy. It didn’t take long before Banks reciprocated with a tender pat on Archer’s shoulder blade. When they separated, Archer realized Banks had a hell of a lot more silver in his hair than the last time Archer had seen him, over a decade ago.

What differences would Banks notice about him? Pretty much everything, he figured. A ton more than a couple of grays.

He found it impossible to know what to say. If Banks was shocked, he masked it well.

Tosin and Miguel, however, were exchanging bug-eyed glances while Tosin mouthed,
Archie? What the fuck?

Banks to the rescue again. Social niceties were his business. “This must be Mr. Torres and Mr. Ellis. I’ve heard so many wonderful things about you both.”

Too dumbstruck to respond, first Miguel then Tosin took Banks’s hand and shook woodenly before Tosin turned to Miguel and asked, “Is someone punking us right now?”

In sync, they looked around as if a camera crew would pop out from behind a rock to deliver the punch line of this joke.

For the first time in a month, Archer laughed. Once he started, he couldn’t stop. He grabbed his middle then doubled over, relief and terror mingling, threatening to drive him mad.

“Why don’t you invite your friends onboard, Archie?” Banks nudged him when he gasped to catch his breath. “There’s a lot to discuss still, yes?”

That sobered him pretty quick. He nodded.

“I’ve set up a table for you in the bar, unless you’d prefer one of the decks or a meeting room instead.” Banks had thought of everything Archer found overwhelming. As usual.

Tosin hadn’t moved. “I think maybe you’d better introduce us first,
Archie
.”

“Ah, shit. Sorry. I never was good at manners.” He shook his head ruefully. Other than stating his name, there was no way to explain who this man was to Archer. Confidant, surrogate dad, business manager—he played a lot of roles. So he stuck with simplicity. “This is Banks.”

“Wait. What?” Miguel tipped his head. Not surprising since that was Archer’s alias and he now shared it with the other guy he so obviously knew. “I thought you didn’t have any family.”

“Technically, we’re not related, sir,” Banks replied for him.

“Sir!” Tosin snorted, recovering some of his easygoing nature, or maybe he attempted to counterbalance Miguel’s growing agitation. “That’s a first. Even better than Archie!”

“These guys are my friends, Banks. They’re not going to respond to civility any better than I do.” Archer looked away from Miguel when he realized the man had, consciously or not, balled his fists. It was entirely possible Archer would get his ass kicked today. And deserve it, too.

“Very well, then.” Banks smiled and turned his back. “Get your asses onboard if you want to find out what the hell your friend is up to. Please leave your shoes in the bin at the top of the gangway.”

Tosin whooped and raced onto the ship, excited to check it out despite the mysterious circumstances.

“I’d better not.” Miguel frowned. “Our gear is in the truck, unattended. And I’m starting to think I’m the only one here who hasn’t lost his damn mind.”

Before he could come up with another valid reason to disappear, maybe forever, Banks dispatched a crew member toward the vehicle they’d left haphazardly on the curb nearby. “Your belongings will be safe. I promise.”

“Holy shit. You’ve got to see this pool, Miguel. Come on!” Tosin shouted from the main sundeck.

Miguel grunted, then grudgingly followed, glancing over his shoulder periodically at Archer, who brought up the rear.

At least he was going to give Archer a chance to explain.

That was as much as he had dared to hope for.

Archer pinched the bridge of his nose, hoping he hadn’t initiated a countdown sequence that led to the implosion of their friendship.