A becoming flush reddened Nikki’s cheeks. “Gracias, Cesar. It’s good to see you again.”
He opened the passenger door and gestured for her to be seated. Nikki unshouldered the new backpack they’d purchased in the early morning hours at a twenty-four-hour Walmart in Miami and slid into the seat. When Cesar closed the door behind her, Ben followed him to the driver’s side and ducked into the backseat. He moved to the center so he could see Cesar’s profile as they drove.
As the vehicle pulled out into traffic, Ben planted his feet on either side of the rear floorboard and leaned forward. “Cesar, we can’t thank you enough for this.”
“De nada, my friend.” He glanced into the rearview mirror. “Men have come asking questions about you.”
Nikki threw a startled look at him over her shoulder. “They have?”
Cesar nodded. “Twice.”
Ben winced. He had expected the Reynosa cartel would question his former employer and landlord. “I hope they didn’t cause you any trouble.”
Cesar shrugged. “I tell them what I know. You work for me three years. You live in my dive shop, watch over things for me at night. And when you leave, you don’t tell me you are going.”
Nikki turned in her seat. “You just left? Didn’t even let him know you were leaving?”
Ben stiffened. Of all people, she was the one who had no business disapproving of his actions. After all, he’d taken his cue from her by leaving without a word to anyone. Only he had a good reason, and it wasn’t just to avoid an unpleasant goodbye scene.
She must have realized what she was saying, because her face turned red in the instant before she twisted back around in her seat.
Cesar rushed to his defense. “No, no, it was right to leave quickly. If I know nothing, I can say nothing.”
“That was my plan.” A stab of guilt pushed Ben backward in the seat. If the Reynosa people came back to question Cesar a third time, he wouldn’t truthfully be able to deny any knowledge of Ben. He’d be forced to lie. And if he were caught lying to the most infamous drug cartel in Mexico, Ben hated to think what they would do to him.
“Cesar, I’m sorry I got you involved in this mess. If I’d had any other options, I would have taken them first.”
The man’s head dipped forward. “I know, amigo. Do not worry about me. I can take care of myself.”
The Volkswagen stopped at a traffic light, then made an unexpected turn.
“We’re not going to the dive shop?” asked Nikki before Ben could voice the question.
“No, to Puerto de Abrigo.”
Ben nodded approval. Cesar wasn’t taking any chances. It was one risk that had nagged at him since he made the call to Cesar when they changed planes in Mexico City. If the scuba shop was being watched, the Reynosa cartel would spot Ben and Nikki as soon as they arrived. All the care they’d taken by flying into Mérida and driving more than three hours to board the ferry at Playa would be for nothing. He shouldn’t have worried. Cesar had foreseen the danger and moved the boat they were going to borrow to Puerto de Abrigo, the public marina.
The traffic slowed as they approached the entrance to the marina. Cesar pulled the Volkswagen over to the curb. He didn’t get out of the car, but turned in his seat and gave them directions to the slip where the Alexandra was moored.
“Your equipment is in the storage chest.” He raised an eyebrow at Ben. “You remember the combination?”
“Of course I do.” Ben couldn’t even count the number of small charter groups he’d taken out on the Alexandra.
“Leave the keys inside,” Cesar instructed. “I will pick her up later.” He paused. “Do you need a place to stay tonight?”
Gratitude washed over Ben at the generous offer. Cesar was putting himself in danger by offering them shelter. But if the Reynosa people were watching the dive shop, they were probably watching Cesar’s home as well. Ben and Nikki couldn’t take that chance.
He shook his head. “We’ll find a place. You’ve done more than enough.”
Nikki cracked open the door, then smiled a farewell. “Thank you, Cesar. I hope you don’t get in any trouble because of us.”
Cesar grinned. “I hope so, too, señorita.”
She exited the car and tilted the seat forward for Ben. Before he left the vehicle, he clasped Cesar’s shoulder. “I owe you, my friend.”
His former boss dismissed the debt with a wave. “It is what friends do. Go with God.” His gaze slid to Nikki. “Take care of her.”
Ben glanced at the sidewalk, where she stood waiting, her new backpack slung over one shoulder. She would probably resist the idea that she needed taking care of. But he simply responded, “I will,” and slid out of the car.
They stood watching, silent, as the Volkswagen pulled away from the curb and joined the line of traffic. The one drawback to the nomadic lifestyle Ben had chosen—the one his father had lived—was that friendships were hard to come by. Cozumel had been his home for longer than any other place since his mom died when he was nineteen. And Cesar was probably the best friend he’d ever had.
I sure hope I haven’t brought trouble straight to his door.
The VW turned, and they lost sight of it. Ben scanned their immediate surroundings. Was anyone watching them? A line of taxicabs were parked along the sidewalk, waiting for tourists returning from daytime excursions. A few of the drivers stood outside their cars, chatting with one another as they waited. A man on a bicycle swept by, a mongrel-looking dog tucked in a metal basket strapped to the front handlebars. The cyclist didn’t spare a glance in their direction as he passed. In fact, no one seemed to notice them at all, much less award them any undue attention. The weight on Ben’s chest lightened slightly.
He unzipped the front pocket of his backpack and pulled out a pair of sunglasses. “Ready to go?” he asked Nikki.
She nodded, and they headed for the dock. Sailboat masts thrust high into the sky from boats in about half the slips. In front of them, turquoise waters glimmered in the afternoon sunlight. The color was a startling difference from the darker waters north of here, in Key West. He filled his lungs with salt-scented air, and instantly felt more alert. The reviving smell of the ocean was the same, regardless of the location.
“I’d forgotten how beautiful it is,” Nikki said.
Ben glanced at her. A half smile hovered around her lips as she gazed across the water. Sunlight gleamed on her hair and highlighted her smooth skin with a healthy glow. A knot formed in his throat.
I’d forgotten how beautiful you are, he almost said. He clamped his jaws shut before the words could slip out.
“This way.”
His voice sounded gruffer than he intended. Nikki’s eyebrows arched, but he increased his pace before she could say anything.
They found the Alexandra exactly where Cesar said it would be. The smaller of the two boats owned by his former employer’s company, the thirty-four-foot Alexandra could accommodate twelve divers and was most often used for private charter groups. A red-and-white scuba flag flapped in a light breeze above the covered cabin.
Ben hopped from the dock into the boat and turned to offer Nikki a hand. She accepted his help, but released him the moment her feet touched the deck.
“Thank you,” she murmured.
Ben crossed to the cabin door and dialed the sequence to release the combination lock. He descended the steps. Cesar had stowed all their equipment in the cabin—BCDs, masks, fins, regulators, weights and belts, and two tanks of air. The key was exactly where Cesar always kept it, in the lockbox stowed beneath one of the padded seats. Ben removed it, grabbed one of the tanks and climbed back to the deck.
“Our gear’s down there.” He slid the tank into a plastic holder and turned to Nikki. “Do you still remember how to hook up your equipment?”
An anxious expression stole over her features. “I think so.”
“Good. If you can do that on the way, it’ll save us some time.” He glanced at his watch. “It’s g
oing to be close to four-thirty by the time we get there.”
She lifted her head and looked toward the sun. “What time is sunset?”
“A little before six.”
“And our plane doesn’t leave until seven tomorrow night.” Her voice wavered when she spoke, and she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear with a nervous gesture.
“That’s right.” She had balked at the late departure when they made the reservations, until he reminded her of the timing. They needed to wait at least twenty-four hours after diving before they flew, or risk decompression sickness. “Don’t worry. We have plenty of time.”
He smiled to calm her before ducking back into the cabin for the second tank. Though she’d lived with him for six months in one of the world’s premiere scuba diving destinations, Nikki had never become a confident diver. Competent, but still overly cautious. She never grew to love the sport as he did. Many times he’d suspected the only reason she continued to dive was for him, to share in his passion. The last month before she left, she hadn’t gone down at all.
I should have known something was wrong then. She fell out of love with diving first, then with me. Or was it the other way around?
He carried the second heavy canister out for her and slipped it into a holder. “You don’t have to go down if you don’t want to. I’m just going to descend, get the flash drive and come right back up.”
For one moment, relief flooded her features. But then it fled, and the worry lines returned to her forehead. “No, that’s all right. I’ll go with you.”
Does she still want to be with me?
The question washed onto the shores of his mind on an accompanying wave of hope. But in the next instant, the hope was swept away, back out to sea.
Not a chance. She’s done nothing but prove she wants to be rid of me from the moment we saw each other in Key West two days ago. She’s going with me because she wants to keep an eye on me. She doesn’t trust me.
The thought rankled.
He shrugged and turned away. “Suit yourself.”
The inboard motor started right up, and the gas tank registered full. Good. They wouldn’t have to waste time getting fuel. Ben intended to push the Alexandra to full throttle, get there as quickly as possible, retrieve the flash drive and get back to the shore. Then he could deposit Nikki in a hotel for the night.
Once she was out of his sight, maybe he’d be able to breathe freely again.
EIGHT
Nikki descended the narrow wooden steps into the cabin as Ben guided the boat out of the marina. During the months she lived in Cozumel, she dived off the Alexandra several times. A quick glance around the cabin showed nothing had changed. She stepped into the head with her backpack and pulled on the new swimsuit she’d purchased at Walmart last night, then slipped on a loose T-shirt over it.
A pair of BCDs—scuba diving vests, called Buoyancy Control Devices—hung on hooks over a wide cushioned bench in the cabin. She grabbed them, one small and the other large, and then draped the pair of octopus-looking regulators by the rubber hoses over her arm before heading back up.
When she stepped onto the deck, the boat was just clearing the marina. Ben pushed the throttle forward. Arms full, Nikki stumbled, struggling to maintain her balance. Ben leaned sideways and steadied her with an arm around her waist, the other hand still on the wheel.
“Careful.”
His mouth was so close to her cheek his words were almost a caress. The strength of his arm sent ripples across her skin. Oh, that touch was so familiar! How easily she had once stepped inside the circle of this arm. A sudden longing for their old relationship washed over her and left her as unsteady as the moving deck beneath her feet. If she’d done things differently, if she’d told him about the baby, maybe he would have surprised her. Maybe…
She stiffened. No. She had made the right decision when she left Cozumel. If he had married her, it would have been from a sense of duty. He would have grown to hate both her and Joshua for robbing him of the lifestyle he loved.
“Sorry.” She mumbled an apology as she stepped away from his steadying arm. She avoided looking at his face as she placed a BCD in front of each metal cylinder. “Haven’t found my sea legs yet, I guess.”
He didn’t reply. The sound of the motor vied with the roar of the wind as the shore zoomed past on the port side. In the distance, off the starboard side, the mainland was a dark blur on the horizon. Salty spray from a big wave dotted her sunglasses, and she used the tail of her T-shirt to wipe it off.
It had been over two-and-a-half years since she assembled scuba equipment. Could she still remember how? She inspected the gear and found that everything was familiar. First, attach the BCD to the cylinder, then the regulator to the tank valve. Though she couldn’t bring herself to look at Ben, she was intensely aware that he watched her every move. Well, that just made sense. Back when she had first met him, when she was a green newbie diver and he was her dive instructor, he’d described scuba gear as “your life support system in an alien environment.” A mistake topside could become fatal sixty feet below the surface.
She positioned the regulator, which would allow them to breathe the compressed air in the tank, tightened the tank valve and attached the pressure inflator hose on the BCD, then stepped back to examine her work. “There. How’s that?”
Ben lifted a shoulder. “Turn it on.”
She picked up the pressure gauge and remembered to direct it away from her face as she twisted the knob on the tank. A slight hiss sounded for a second as air from the tank rushed through the regulator hoses. The procedure was coming back to her. The pressure gauge read a full 3000 psi, more than enough air for the quick dive they would be taking. She picked up the regulator second stage at the end of the long black hose and tested it by tapping the purge valve to make sure the mouthpiece was clear, and then taking a few breaths through it.
“This one’s fine.” She shouted to be heard over the noise of the boat’s motor.
His eyebrows arched. “Did you check the secondary air source?”
A blush warmed her face, and she turned her back on Ben so he wouldn’t see. So she’d forgotten one step. It had been almost three years, after all. She picked up the second regulator hose and breathed through the backup mouthpiece.
“Good. Now the other one.”
His voice had taken on the tone of dive master, the undisputed person in charge on a dive. Instead of being irritated, Nikki’s tension eased a fraction. If there was one thing Ben knew, it was scuba diving. She had never felt anything but entirely confident in his ability to keep her safe while diving. She needed that confidence now.
She moved to the second cylinder and followed the same procedure with the smaller BCD. When she twisted the knob to release air into the regulator, the pressure gauge needle sprang to life. But it didn’t move nearly as far as she expected. She tapped the plastic cover with a finger, but the needle didn’t budge.
“This one only has 1000 psi,” she told Ben.
“Cesar must have mistakenly grabbed one that hasn’t been refilled after the last dive.” He lifted a shoulder, unconcerned. “It won’t matter. We won’t need near that much air. We’re going to drop down and come right back up.”
Nikki drew comfort from his nonchalant attitude. If Ben wasn’t worried, then neither should she be.
Her task completed, she sat on the bench that lined the port side and watched the shoreline. Sandy beaches, hotels and resorts lined much of the southwestern side of the island, though the buildings grew less frequent the farther south they traveled. After a while, she saw nothing but the wild, dense bush that covered much of Cozumel.
She turned to shout a question for Ben. “Where are we going?”
“Maracaibo.”
A stab of alarm tensed her muscles. She remembered that dive site. “The shallows?”
He shook his head. “The deep.”
Maracaibo Deep. Dread formed a knot in her stomach. Maracaibo was the southernm
ost reef on the island, and one that only experienced divers attempted. The currents were strong, even for Cozumel. The reef formed a wall that started at ninety feet and dropped to depths beyond anything a diver could safely handle. Strong vertical currents could grab an unwary diver and sweep him—or her—down to his death in a matter of minutes. Nikki had never been there.
And she didn’t want to start now.
Throughout the rest of the ride to the dive site, she remained silent. She couldn’t have spoken if she wanted to. A rising panic clenched her throat and choked off any words she might have said.
NINE
The brilliance of the sun in the afternoon sky painted patterns on the turquoise water at the Maracaibo Deep dive site. Nikki flexed her knees and moved with the waves that rocked the Alexandra as she crossed the deck to don her scuba gear. The red-and-white scuba flag above her filled the silence between her and Ben with an irregular flap-flap-flap from the light breeze.
Instructions from her very first dive, delivered by the handsome dive instructor who would become her live-in boyfriend within the week, echoed from a distance of over two years. Nerves stretching taut with every step, she strapped on her weight belt, slid her feet into bright blue fins and sat on the bench to slip her arms into her BCD. She was still tightening the straps and checking the position of the regulator hoses when Ben finished gearing up.
“Here, let me help.”
He heaved himself off the bench as though the heavy cylinder strapped to his back weighed only a few pounds. Not true, Nikki knew. The tank probably weighed close to forty pounds, about a third of her total body weight. She allowed Ben to grab the neck of her cylinder and help her stand.
“Thanks.”
Into the Deep Page 7