by CK Dawn
And he’d almost kissed her. What the hell, Wash? Except… it had really looked like she was going to kiss him back. She had her fingers in his hair. Women didn’t do that out of friendliness, at least not in his—admittedly sparse—experience.
The woman was wealthy and famous, and… probably elven nobility or something.
Her parents would absolutely never approve. Assuming she had parents. Elves had parents, right? Like, they didn’t spring fully-formed from the ground.
What was he thinking?
He wasn’t anywhere near her league. What, were they going to kiss, and the music would start playing, and they’d run off together into the sunset?
Argh. Idiot.
And then she was there. He could smell the jasmine and sage of her perfume waft through the air before he saw her.
She stepped out of the elevator, flanked by Sanchez and Rodrigo. “All ready?” she asked him.
The hell I am. “Yeah.”
Neither of her PD-on-loan bodyguards had seen the kidnappers, but they’d spotted a suspicious man taking pictures outside the hotel.
“That was Milo Rourke,” Caitlin had explained. “My own personal stalker. Lucky me.”
From there, it had been easy for hotel security to pull up footage of him creeping around outside with his camera and drone. A few calls to the auto-cab company, and before Wash could come up with any kind of plan, Caitlin knew where he was staying and was ready to storm the fort.
He had no idea why she’d asked him to come along. A woman like her didn’t need him for help. If he were smart, he would take off now and save himself the inevitable heartbreak later when she switched gears and told him what a good friend he was.
But… the moment they’d had upstairs felt pretty damn real to him. Or had he imagined the whole thing?
As she strode confidently to the Aston, he realized it was too late to back out now. The two men flanked her, falling in step without even looking. It hit Wash, watching them walk, that they were brothers. The similarities were too striking.
Caitlin had thrown a leather jacket over her white t-shirt and pulled her hair into a tight black braid that started at her hairline and crested down over one ear, flowing down the front of her like a dark waterfall. Her heels clicked against the pavement.
“Wash, would you drive?”
“Um… yes?”
“Thanks.” She handed him the keys, and he just stared at them for a moment.
“You can drive, right?”
He blinked. “Uh, yeah. Of course.” An hour earlier, and he would have gone back to his oxygen-deprivation-induced hallucination theory, but… no. Not after what had happened in the hotel room, and what a mess his thoughts were right now. This agony was all too real.
He pushed himself away from where he was leaning against the car and opened the door for her before coming back around to the driver’s side.
As he got in, the seat, controls, the car scanned his height, weight, and eye-level, and immediately adjusted the seat, controls, and mirrors.
“Add driver, Thomas Washington,” Caitlin told the onboard computer.
His link signed on, giving him access to all kinds of stats on the vehicle. He didn’t need any of the information to drive, but he found himself grinning at the seven-hundred-horsepower. The engine revved to life as soon as he put his hands on the wheel.
He blew out a deep breath. “I could get used to this. The most advanced car I’ve ever driven was a Navy truck.”
“You’ll do fine, handsome.”
Handsome, was it? He gripped the wheel a bit tighter and eased the vehicle out into traffic.
It was after five, but the hotel lay in the busiest and most touristy part of town. Luckily for him, his link laid out the course in the AR for him to follow. It told him when to turn and where to go.
“I didn’t know you were a navy man,” Caitlin said as they glided down the street. “How long?”
Ten years of good and bad memories rushed through him in an instant, and he immediately regretted mentioning it. “I… I can’t really talk about it,” he said, knowing that sounded weird, but there was just too much baggage wrapped up in that whole part of his life. He’d never had the courage to open it all up and didn’t know if he ever would.
“Classified?”
Wash let out a short laugh. “No. I just…” He shook his head.
“So, what did you do?” She didn’t seem to have picked up on the exact source of his reluctance, and he supposed that as long as they didn’t get personal, he could talk about the job. Regardless of any of the rest of it, he was pretty proud of that.
“Two things…” He glanced at her for a moment, which was a mistake. The light coming in from the passenger window lit up her face in profile, along with her silver necklace and the smooth, bronze collarbone beneath it. For a moment, he couldn’t think.
“Two things?”
“Yeah, right. Sorry.” He fixed his eyes firmly on the road. “I was a rescue swimmer for the first six years. I was stationed on the larger ships and if anyone fell overboard we would go after them. Or if there was an accident we would ride out on the V-34’s and rescue civilians trapped on boats—”
“A V-34?”
He grimaced. “Sorry. Old habit.” And an annoying one, he knew, to anyone who hadn’t been in the military. “A VTOL, like the commercial ones. They take off straight up and then fly like a plane.”
“But probably a bit faster than the civilian ones?”
“Quite a bit. More expensive, too. I rode those a lot. Our primary mission has always been freedom of the seas and search and rescue.”
“Were you good at it?”
“Yes,” he said, with no trace of his usual hedging or doubt. If there was one thing he could be sure of in his life, it was that. He’d been good at it, and he’d loved it.
He remembered every single rescue, and he could see the faces of the people in his mind now.
“There’s not a day that goes by that I wish I hadn’t left that job.” He hadn’t meant to say that last bit, and he hoped she couldn’t hear the sadness in his voice.
“You do seem to have a swimmer’s build. I noticed that when I pulled you out of the water.” He could hear the smile in her voice.
Every last shred of melancholy vanished, and goose bumps traveled up his arms. “Well.” He coughed, staring straight ahead. “I’ve been swimming since I was a kid, so I guess…”
He drifted off, not sure where to go from there. Instead, he focused on his driving as the link sent him into a couple of quick turns.
San Juan’s colorful buildings and wonderful sense of community were easy to get lost in. However, once the car slid onto the expressway, the onboard computer took over and there was nothing left for Wash to do. The steering wheel receded into the dashboard and the gear shifter sunk into the floor as freeing up room in the cab for them to move around.
He wasn’t sure he really wanted to talk, but the silence was unbearable. “So… you still haven’t told me who you are.” If he was going to get all soggy about his personal life, it was only fair.
Was it his imagination, or did she squirm a little in her seat? She sighed and bit her lip, and for a brief moment, he wanted nothing more than to just kiss her right then.
Get a grip, Wash.
“I know, I promised,” she said. “I just…”
He tilted his head to the side. “Whatever you say, it won’t change how I think of you.”
“Of course it will, Wash.” She gave him a direct look. “How could it not? I guess we’ve got to have this conversation eventually, though, so now is as good a time as any.” She turned in her seat to face him a little better, pulling one foot up onto the seat. “We’ll stick with the most relevant issue. I’m… well… I’m a fashion model.”
She spoke the word model like she was a little embarrassed, though the only thought he had was ‘Well, that seems appropriate’.
Caitlin glanced up at him, then, as t
hough she was waiting for him to respond.
“Pretty much every magazine cover ever? A couple movies.” She scratched her forehead, looking away. “Vision Dark. Hellways.”
Oh, god.
“Caitlin Vnois.” He shut his eyes. How had this not clicked for him? A thousand checkout stand magazines surfaced in his memory. He hadn’t seen the two movies, but he’d caught a glimpse or two of the trailers.
Caitlin Vnois. Model, actress. Which also meant…
Wash covered his face, trying not to look as embarrassed as he felt.
“Yes, I’m from Atlantis.” She paused. “See why I didn’t want to tell you?”
How had he not put it together before? He worked in a damn supermarket. He’d seen her picture half a million times on those magazines. It was just… those photos weren’t of a real person. They were just… photos of some…
“Wash, say something, please.”
“I’m sorry,” he broke in, “My brain was just exploding from the enormity of what I just… I don’t know. Blocked out. Damn. Aren’t you a professor, too?”
She hesitated, turning to look out the window. “Yeah.”
Wash sighed, watching her shrink a little in the seat next to him. He needed to fix this before he screwed it up too badly. He was reducing her to the things she did, not who she was. Which was, of course, amazing. Witty. Amazing. Charming. And… amazing.
Not to mention gorgeous. More so than she looked in the photos and the vids. More real.
He shook his head. “Well, that explains the paparazzi. Okay, okay. We’ll forget it, though. You still saved my life. Not to mention fed me probably the best dinner of my life. I can overlook a lot of things for good food, so I’ll do my best to overlook your crummy job as a supermodel… for now.”
Oh god, please pick up on the joke…
She turned and punched him in the arm. “Very funny, mister Navy swimmer. Hmm, now what did I save your life from? It was drowning if I recall correctly…”
He laughed and then winced, rubbing his arm in half-joking pain. Phew. There had been a 50/50 chance of her throwing him out of the car right then in there.
“Your turn,” she said, leaning her head back on the headrest.
“My turn?”
“What was your second job?”
He sighed. The whirlpool of bad memories threatened him, but he wouldn’t let them ruin the moment. He put aside his anger at the Navy and his ex-wife for a minute. Just for a minute.
“Do you know what a crab-suit is?”
She nodded. “They’re those diving mechs, right? Manned suits that can go down really deep?”
“Right. After several years as a rescue swimmer, I was approached about an experimental program to rescue sailors on subs that had sunk below three hundred meters. Modern subs can go down to about three thousand, but the little submersibles they use for rescue can’t go that deep. The idea behind the crab suit was I would go down, ascertain life, and if I found any, we would attempt to raise the sub using pontoons.”
“Three-thousand meters? Wow, that is deep. What is the hard suit dive record?”
She knew what a hard suit was. Wash realized that meant she probably knew all this stuff backward and forward, so he treated her like she did.
“Before these suits, eight hundred meters. The way the crab suits are built, they don’t have a bottom depth. However, they need a person in them. When you get down that deep, the delay via tether is too great and one misstep and—” He slapped his hands together “—flat as a pancake.”
She raised an eyebrow at him. “You clearly loved it. Why did you leave the Navy?”
That was the million dollar question, wasn’t it?
“It’s okay,” she said when he paused. “You don’t have to answer.”
He cast her a grateful smile. All this talk about diving, though… something nagged at him about it. His memory of the last few days hadn’t come back, and though the sun was setting, it had only been seven hours since she saved him.
He had to have been here on a dive. The wetsuit and where she found him only made sense if he’d been diving. No matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t recall the last few days. Just vague images of being here and that was it.
The car pinged his link, notifying him he needed to resume manual control. He twisted back to face the road as the car drifted toward the off-ramp. The link counted down in his AR from five and when it hit zero, the steering wheel vibrated, signaling him.
They left the expressway behind, turning in a long loop that left them heading east on a three-lane highway.
On the left were brightly colored, low lying industrial and commercial buildings. In contrast, on the right of the road was a heavily forested area where a vast wilderness spread out. A few more miles and they turned off the three lane to a more traditional road. The buildings changed too. Darker, less well cared for. The road wasn’t as well maintained as the ones to the north forcing him to slow down in the low slung car.
“You come down here often?”
“No, this isn’t exactly the part of town tourist are encouraged to visit. Even if I was into strip clubs, there are several… cleaner establishments closer to the harbor.”
He cast her a look of consternation.
“You’d be surprised at how many people—mostly men, but some women—think I’ll take my clothes off for enough money. I like clothes, it is why I’m a model. I get to wear all the latest stuff, and people make things especially for me.”
“And I don’t suppose you need the cash, either.”
“No, not really,” she said with a smile. “Plus—and I know this is going to sound stupid—but I’m an elf, not a human.”
“Hadn’t noticed.”
She ignored him. “Our body types aren’t exactly the same, and for the longest time, it was a struggle to find clothes out here that fit right. All this—” She made a vague gesture with her hand “—it kind of changed that, for elves everywhere, not just Atlantis.”
Wash nodded. He could understand that. His height had always made clothes shopping difficult.
They passed a burger joint, and his link told him to turn. The car responded instantly. The Aston was incredibly finicky. and if he even breathed on the accelerator it would send it off hurtling at mind bending speeds. He screeched the tires accidentally as he turned.
“Sorry,” he muttered.
“It’s a lot of car,” she said. “You’re doing good.”
“So… why did he take your sister?”
“Hmm? Oh, Milo? At first, I thought they were there for her. But… no ransom note. No, if he took her, he’s probably hoping to blackmail me into something nasty. Ugh. I’m going to crush that man like the bug he is.” The ferocity in her voice was enough to send a shiver down Wash’s spine.
“Remind me never to cross you.”
She laughed like bells tinkling, “You? Wash you’re the most interesting person I’ve met since father let me leave the island. Definitely not crush-worthy.”
He winced at the possible double-meaning there but didn’t say anything about it.
“We’re here.”
There was something about her that was just… easy. Not in the bad sense. Comfortable. Like they’d known each other for a long time.
Then, of course, he remembered what she’d said in the hotel, about how she got people to like her. For all he knew, he was on the same level as Alfredo, to her.
He wasn’t… special. Not like her. And it bothered him how much he… honestly, he couldn’t describe it. He almost felt like they were both magnets, pulling at each other.
And one way or the other, he suspected it wasn’t going to end well for him.
The AR flashed an arrow at their destination. Wash kept the car moving as they passed. The strip club’s two story building had windows that were completely blacked out. The sign proclaimed, Sports, Beer, Women, flashing between Spanish and English. A citizen’s warning flashed on his AR.
This area
of the city has statistically high crime and slow police response. Proceed with care.
“Did you get the warning too?” he asked Caitlin.
“Ignore it. I’m sure we’ll be fine. Every city has its bad parts. As pretty as San Juan is, it’s no different. I just happen to think its good parts are a hundred times better than most cities.”
Oddly, across the street from the club was a fire station with high walls and concertina wire surrounding several white ambulances marked Emergency Services. At least if they were hurt, the ambulances were right there. Still… the only parking lot was the club and the cars filling it kinda screamed gangsters and drunks! Parking the Aston there seemed like a bad idea. There just wasn’t anywhere else to park.
“Is this actually your car, or a rental?”
“Rental. It is a beautiful car though, I’d hate to see something happen to it. One sec.”
A new route popped up on his link, a private parking facility. Wash guided the car past the club, down the alley, and across the street. It wasn’t hard to find. The four story concrete parking garage was the tallest in the area and surrounded by more security than most banks.
Once parked, Wash hopped out to walk around the back of the car and open her door for her. It seemed like the thing to do, but she gave him an odd look. She still took his offered hand and pulled herself out.
“Secure car,” she said. The door shut on its own and the car hummed like electricity ran through it.
“How do you want to handle this?” He didn’t really have any idea what to expect inside.
“Just stay close to me.”
Wash nodded. “No problem, boss.”
The walk from the parking garage only took a few minutes. Wash had acted remarkably cool about the whole, ‘I’m a supermodel’ revelation. It wasn’t a revelation to most of the people she’d known, but every once in a while—especially earlier in her career—it would catch someone by surprise, and then their behavior would shift dramatically.
Wash even managed to turn it into a joke. She’d noticed how he changed the subject, though. There had been a lot of pain behind his words.
Her father would hate the fact she was hanging out with another human after the complete disaster Dirkshire had been. What had she been thinking?