Risky Business

by Nora Roberts

  “Luis usually takes care of the private lessons.”

  He smiled at her. “I prefer dealing with the management.”

  Liz dusted crumbs from her fingers. “All right then. It’ll cost you.”

  He lifted his cup in salute. “I never doubted it.”

  Liz was laughing when Jonas pulled into a narrow parking space at the hotel. “If he’d picked your pocket, why did you defend him?”

  “Everyone’s entitled to representation,” Jonas reminded her. “Besides, I figured if I took him on as a client, he’d leave my wallet alone.”

  “And did he?”

  “Yeah.” Jonas took her hand as they crossed the sidewalk to the sand. “He stole my watch instead.”

  She giggled, a foolish, girlish sound he’d never heard from her. “And did you get him off?”

  “Two years probation. There, it looks like business is good.”

  Liz shielded her eyes from the sun and looked toward the shop. Luis was busily fitting two couples with snorkel gear. A glance to the left showed her only the Expatriate remained in dock. “Cozumel’s becoming very popular,” she murmured.

  “Isn’t that the idea?”

  “For business?” She moved her shoulders. “I’d be a fool to complain.”

  “But?”

  “But sometimes I think it would be nice if I could block out the changes. I don’t want to see the water choked with suntan oil. Hola, Luis.”

  “Liz!” His gaze passed over Jonas briefly before he grinned at her. “We thought maybe you deserted us. How did you like Acapulco?”

  “It was…different,” she decided, and was already scooting behind the counter to find the daily schedule. “Any problems?”

  “Jose took care of a couple repairs. I brought Miguel back to fill in, but I keep an eye on him. Got this—what do you call it—brochure on the aqua bikes.” He pulled out a colorful pamphlet, but Liz only nodded.

  “The Brinkman party’s out diving. Did we take them to Palancar?”

  “Two days in a row. Miguel likes them. They tip good.”

  “Hmm. You’re handling the shop alone.”

  “No problem. Hey, there was a guy.” He screwed up his face as he tried to remember the name. “Skinny guy, American. You know the one you took out on the beginners’ trip?”

  She flipped through the receipts and was satisfied. “Trydent?”

  “Sí, that was it. He came by a coupla times.”

  “Rent anything?”

  “No.” Luis wiggled his eyebrows at her. “He was looking for you.”

  Liz shrugged it off. If he hadn’t rented anything, he didn’t interest her. “If everything’s under control here, I’m going to take Mr. Sharpe out for a diving lesson.”

  Luis looked quickly at Jonas, then away. The man made him uneasy, but Liz looked happier than she had in weeks. “Want me to get the gear?”

  “No, I’ll take care of it.” She looked up and smiled at Jonas. “Write Mr. Sharpe up a rental form and give him a receipt for the gear, the lesson and the boat trip. Since it’s…” She trailed off as she checked her watch. “Nearly eleven, give him the half-day rate.”

  “You’re all heart,” Jonas murmured as she went to the shelves to choose his equipment.

  “You got the best teacher,” Luis told him, but couldn’t manage more than another quick look at Jonas.

  “I’m sure you’re right.” Idly, Jonas swiveled the newspaper Luis had tossed on the counter around to face him. He missed being able to sit down with the morning paper over coffee. The Spanish headlines told him nothing. “Anything going on I should know about?” Jonas asked, indicating the paper.

  Luis relaxed a bit as he wrote. Jonas’s voice wasn’t so much like Jerry’s when you weren’t looking at him. “Haven’t had a chance to look at it yet. Busy morning.”

  Going with habit, Jonas turned the paper over. There, in a faded black-and-white picture, was Erika. Jonas’s fingers tightened. He glanced back and saw that Liz was busy, her back to him. Without a word, he slid the paper over the receipt Luis was writing.

  “Hey, that’s the—”

  “I know,” Jonas said in an undertone. “What does it say?”

  Luis bent over the paper to read. He straightened again very slowly, and his face was ashen. “Dead,” he whispered. “She’s dead.”

  “How?”

  Luis’s fingers opened and closed on the pen he held. “Stabbed.”

  Jonas thought of the knife held at Liz’s throat. “When?”

  “Last night.” Luis had to swallow twice. “They found her last night.”

  “Jonas,” Liz called from the back, “how much do you weigh?”

  Keeping his eyes on Luis, Jonas turned the paper over again. “One seventy. She doesn’t need to hear this now,” he added under his breath. He pulled bills from his wallet and laid them on the counter. “Finish writing the receipt.”

  After a struggle, Luis mastered his own fear and straightened. “I don’t want anything to happen to Liz.”

  Jonas met the look with a challenge that held for several humming seconds before he relaxed. The smaller man was terrified, but he was thinking of Liz. “Neither do I. I’m going to see nothing does.”

  “You brought trouble.”

  “I know.” His gaze shifted beyond Luis to Liz. “But if I leave, the trouble doesn’t.”

  For the first time, Luis forced himself to study Jonas’s face. After a moment, he blew out a long breath. “I liked your brother, but I think it was him who brought trouble.”

  “It doesn’t matter anymore who brought it. I’m going to look out for her.”

  “Then you look good,” Luis warned softly. “You look real good.”

  “First lesson,” Liz said as she unlocked her storage closet. “Each diver carries and is responsible for his own gear.” She jerked her head back to where Jonas’s was stacked. With a last look at Luis, he walked through the doorway to gather it up.

  “Preparing for a dive is twice as much work as diving itself,” she began as she hefted her tanks. “It’s a good thing it’s worth it. We’ll be back before sundown, Luis. Hasta luego.”

  “Liz.” She stopped, turning back to where Luis hovered in the doorway. His gaze passed over Jonas, then returned to her. “Hasta luego,” he managed, and closed his fingers over the medal he wore around his neck.

  The moment she was on board, Liz restacked her gear. As a matter of routine, she checked all the Expatriate’s gauges. “Can you cast off?” she asked Jonas.

  He ran a hand down her hair, surprising her. She looked so competent, so in charge. He wondered if by staying close he was protecting or endangering. It was becoming vital to believe the first. “I can handle it.”

  She felt her stomach flutter as he continued to stare at her. “Then you’d better stop looking at me and do it.”

  “I like looking at you.” He drew her close, just to hold her. “I could spend years looking at you.”

  Her arms came up, hesitated, then dropped back to her sides. It would be so easy to believe. To trust again, give again, be hurt again. She wanted to tell him of the love growing inside her, spreading and strengthening with each moment. But if she told him she’d no longer have even the illusion of control. Without control, she was defenseless.

  “I clocked you on at eleven,” she said, but couldn’t resist breathing deeply of his scent and committing it to memory.

  Because she made him smile again, he drew her back. “I’m paying the bill, I’ll worry about the time.”

  “Diving lesson,” she reminded him. “And you can’t dive until you cast off.”

  “Aye, aye, sir.” But he gave her a hard, breath-stealing kiss before he jumped back on the dock.

  Liz drew air into her lungs and let it out slowly before she turned on the engines. All she could hope was that she looked more in control than she felt. He was winning a battle, she mused, that he didn’t even know he was fighting. She waited for Jonas to join her again befo
re she eased the throttle forward.

  “There are plenty of places to dive where we don’t need the boat, but I thought you’d enjoy something away from the beaches. Palancar is one of the most stunning reefs in the Caribbean. It’s probably the best place to start because the north end is shallow and the wall slopes rather than having a sheer vertical drop-off. There are a lot of caves and passageways, so it makes for an interesting dive.”

  “I’m sure, but I had something else in mind.”

  “Something else?”

  Jonas took a small book out of his pocket and flipped through it. “What do these numbers look like to you?”

  Liz recognized the book. It was the same one he’d used in Acapulco to copy down the numbers from his brother’s book in the safe-deposit box. He still had his priorities, she reminded herself, then drew back on the throttle to let the boat idle.

  The numbers were in precise, neat lines. Any child who’d paid attention in geography class would recognize them. “Longitude and latitude.”

  He nodded. “Do you have a chart?”

  He’d planned this since he’d first seen the numbers, she realized. Their being lovers changed nothing else. “Of course, but I don’t need it for this. I know these waters. That’s just off the coast of Isla Mujeres.” Liz adjusted her course and picked up speed. Perhaps, she thought, the course had already been set for both of them long before this. They had no choice but to see it through. “It’s a long trip. You might as well relax.”

  He put his hands on her shoulders to knead. “We won’t find anything, but I have to go.”

  “I understand.”

  “Would you rather I go alone?”

  She shook her head violently, but said nothing.

  “Liz, this had to be his drop point. By tomorrow, Moralas will have the numbers and send his own divers down. I have to see for myself.”

  “You’re chasing shadows, Jonas. Jerry’s gone. Nothing you can do is going to change that.”

  “I’ll find out why. I’ll find out who. That’ll be enough.”

  “Will it?” With her hand gripping the wheel hard, she looked over her shoulder. His eyes were close, but they held that cool, set look again. “I don’t think so—not for you.” Liz turned her face back to the sea. She would take him where he wanted to go.

  Isla Mujeres, Island of Women, was a small gem in the water. Surrounded by reefs and studded with untouched lagoons, it was one of the perfect retreats of the Caribbean. Party boats from the continental coast or one of the other islands cruised there daily to offer their customers snorkeling or diving at its best. It had once been known by pirates and blessed by a goddess. Liz anchored the boat off the southwest coast. Once again, she became the teacher.

  “It’s important to know and understand both the name and the use of every piece of equipment. It’s not just a matter of stuffing in a mouthpiece and strapping on a tank. No smoking,” she added as Jonas took out a cigarette. “It’s ridiculous to clog up your lungs in the first place, and absurd to do it before a dive.”

  Jonas set the pack on the bench beside him. “How long are we going down?”

  “We’ll keep it under an hour. The depth here ranges to eighty feet. That means the nitrogen in your air supply will be over three times denser than what your system’s accustomed to. In some people at some depths, this can cause temporary imbalances. If you begin to feel light-headed, signal to me right away. We’ll descend in stages to give your body time to get used to the changes in pressure. We ascend the same way in order to give the nitrogen time to expel. If you come up too quickly, you risk decompression sickness. It can be fatal.” As she spoke, she spread out the gear with the intention of explaining each piece. “Nothing is to be taken for granted in the water. It is not your milieu. You’re dependent on your equipment and your own good sense. It’s beautiful and it’s exciting, but it’s not an amusement park.”

  “Is this the same lecture you give on the dive boat?”

  “Basically.”

  “You’re very good.”

  “Thank you.” She picked up a gauge. “Now—”

  “Can we get started?” he asked and reached for his wet suit.

  “We are getting started. You can’t dive without a working knowledge of your equipment.”

  “That’s a depth gauge.” He nodded toward her hand as he stripped down to black briefs. “A very sophisticated one. I wouldn’t think most dive shops would find it necessary to stock that quality.”

  “This is mine,” she murmured. “But I keep a handful for rentals.”

  “I don’t think I mentioned that you have the best-tended equipment I’ve ever seen. It isn’t in the same league with your personal gear, but it’s quality. Give me a hand, will you?”

  Liz rose to help him into the tough, stretchy suit. “You’ve gone down before.”

  “I’ve been diving since I was fifteen.” Jonas pulled up the zipper before bending over to check the tanks himself.

  “Since you were fifteen.” Liz yanked off her shirt and tossed it aside. Fuming, she pulled off her shorts until she wore nothing but a string bikini and a scowl. “Then why did you let me go on that way?”

  “I liked hearing you.” Jonas glanced up and felt his blood surge. “Almost as much as I like looking at you.”

  She wasn’t in the mood to be flattered, less in the mood to be charmed. Without asking for assistance, she tugged herself into her wet suit. “You’re still paying for the lesson.”

  Jonas grinned as he examined his flippers. “I never doubted it.”

  She strapped on the rest of her gear in silence. It was difficult even for her to say if she were really angry. All she knew was the day, and dive, weren’t as simple as they had started out to be. Lifting the top of a bench, she reached into a compartment and took out two short metal sticks shaped like bats.

  “What’s this for?” Jonas asked as she handed him one.

  “Insurance.” She adjusted her mask. “We’re going down to the caves where the sharks sleep.”

  “Sharks don’t sleep.”

  “The oxygen content in the water in the cave keeps them quiescent. But don’t think you can trust them.”

  Without another word, she swung over the side and down the ladder.

  The water was as clear as glass, so she could see for more than a hundred feet. As she heard Jonas plunge in beside her, Liz turned to assure herself he did indeed know what he was doing. Catching her skeptical look, Jonas merely circled his thumb and forefinger, then pointed down.

  He was tense. Liz could feel it from him, though she understood it had nothing to do with his skill underwater. His brother had dived here once—she was as certain of it as Jonas. And the reason for his dives had been the reason for his death. She no longer had to think whether she was angry. In a gesture as personal as a kiss, she reached out a hand and took his.

  Grateful, Jonas curled his fingers around hers. He didn’t know what he was looking for, or even why he continued to look when already he’d found more than he’d wanted to. His brother had played games with the rules and had lost. Some would say there was justice in that. But they’d shared birth. He had to go on looking, and go on hoping.

  Liz saw the first of the devilfish and tugged on Jonas’s hand. Such things never failed to touch her spirit. The giant manta rays cruised together, feeding on plankton and unconcerned with the human intruders. Liz kicked forward, delighted to swim among them. Their huge mouths could crush and devour crustaceans. Their wingspan of twenty feet and more was awesome. Without fear, Liz reached out to touch. Pleasure came easily, as it always did to her in the sea. Her eyes were laughing as she reached out again for Jonas.

  They descended farther, and some of his tension began to dissolve. There was something different about her here, a lightness, an ease that dissolved the sadness that always seemed to linger in her eyes. She looked free, and more, as happy as he’d ever seen her. If it were possible to fall in love in a matter of moments, Jonas fell i
n love in those, forty feet below the surface with a mermaid who’d forgotten how to dream.

  Everything she saw, everything she could touch fascinated her. He could see it in the way she moved, the way she looked at everything as though it were her first dive. If he could have found a way, he would have stayed with her there, surrounded by love and protected by fathoms.

  They swam deeper, but leisurely. If something evil had been begun, or been ended there, it had left no trace. The sea was calm and silent and full of life too lovely to exist in the air.

  When the shadow passed over, Liz looked up. In all her dives, she’d never seen anything so spectacular. Thousands upon thousands of silvery grunts moved together in a wave so dense that they might have been one creature. Eyes wide with the wonder of it, Liz lifted her arms and took her body up. The wave swayed as a unit, avoiding intrusion. Delighted, she signaled for Jonas to join her. The need to share the magic was natural. This was the pull of the sea that had driven her to study, urged to explore and invited her once to dream. With her fingers linked with Jonas’s, she propelled them closer. The school of fish split in half so that it became two unified forms swirling on either side of them. The sea teemed with them, thick clouds of silver so tightly grouped that they seemed fused together.

  For a moment she was as close to her own fantasies as she had ever been, floating free, surrounded by magic, with her lover’s hand in hers. Impulsively, she wrapped her arms around Jonas and held on. The clouds of fish swarmed around them, linked into one, then swirled away.

  He could feel her pulse thud when he reached for her wrist. He could see the fascinated delight in her eyes. Hampered by his human frailty in the water, he could only touch his hand to her cheek. When she lifted her own to press it closer, it was enough. Side by side they swam toward the seafloor.

  The limestone caves were eerie and compelling. Once Jonas saw the head of a moray eel slide out and curve, either in curiosity or warning. An old turtle with barnacles crusting his back rose from his resting place beneath a rock and swam between them. Then at the entrance to a cave, Liz pointed and shared another mystery.