He needed a moment to regroup and decide how to proceed with Briana. She was skittish because she was on the water, and he felt less of a man to have put her here just to have the upper hand.
White knuckles clenched the rail, and her bottom lip tucked under her top as she bit down. Briana no longer bore the haughty facade she mastered behind the shelter of her desk. Here he could talk to the woman, not the contractor.
“I didn’t kidnap you. I—I was worried about you. I don’t know what caused the tuna to wash up on shore. I don’t know what caused the wave anomalies. Until I know these things—” he hesitated. “I saw you standing there, and I—” Went crazy.
Continuing, he said, “If you weren’t so consumed with that godforsaken piece of real estate, you would have heeded my warning to stay away from the beach, and I wouldn’t have had to take time out of the research Keo and I are doing to rescue you.”
Perhaps the admonishment was harsh, but it had been a long day—a day that wasn’t anywhere near over. And he was battling conflicting emotions.
The concern he felt for Briana confused him. Care was something he had lost in the gulch.
“Rescue me?” Briana’s voice piqued as she raised her hands to swipe hair away from a flushed face. “Well, I am sorry to have been such an inconvenience, but I never asked you to rescue me. It didn’t quite seem that I was in peril until you put me in the water. And if there was any sort of legitimate peril, well then, dammit, yes, I will protect my godforsaken piece of real estate.”
Nick believed she meant that. It made him even angrier. Haunting memories of another woman consumed by her career left him feeling dismayed when he had considered Briana to be different. He couldn’t deal with that sort of fanatical obsession again. He promised himself that he deserved better in a woman—someone who could return affection, not scorn it.
Even now, watching a golden lock of hair weave down Briana’s throat and tickle the soft hollow, he argued that no matter how attractive he found her, Briana Holt could not possibly be good for him.
Jaded, he continued. “That’s just great, Briana. Be a martyr. Tragedy related to your job will not give you praise by your peers. Doing that job the best you can will.”
He could boost her ego and point out that she had done excellent work, and ensured her complex was safe with the solidly structured seawall, but he wasn’t going to.
“I know,” he added. “For two days I was dead, and the papers applauded my achievements. I was eulogized and proclaimed one of the best in my field—”
His tone drew her gaze. She searched his face and asked softly, “What happened in Sacred Falls?”
He winced, but did not speak.
Pain pounded inside his head and took a trek down the right side of his body. He was paralyzed—consciousness as elusive as the gulp of water he prayed for.
In the last moments of lucidity, he was aware of her presence. The scent of jasmine filled the damp ravine. Her fragrance. He called out, but the hollow sound echoed back at him with a mocking timbre.
Then, for just a moment he felt a shadow fall across his battered body. He forced his eyes open. She was there, and she smiled—an immortal being offering him a glimpse of salvation.
And then she walked away.
***
“I came back to life, and I wasn’t a hero anymore. I was just a geologist who wanted to be left alone to do what he could to protect the land he loves.”
The resentful tone, combined with the articles taped to his den wall lead Briana to believe there was much more to Nick McCord’s tale. She doubted he would ever share the experience. She was a stranger. But still the tug was there, the desire to reach for him and console.
Nick had insecurities. So did she.
For a moment she felt connected to him, but her defenses shattered that intimacy.
“Yes,” she had to look away. “...and I’m just—”
What? A woman who wants to protect her home just as badly? Someone who hopes to hide her own pain and insecurity under the guise of work?
Perhaps that meant she came across as the predatory businesswoman he depicted her as, but wasn’t that the image she was aiming for?
“I’m not that different from you, Nick.” Letting it go at that, Briana grabbed the rail and braved a glimpse over the edge. She wished she had the courage to jump into the dinghy and pilot it back to shore.
CHAPTER SEVEN
“Boss man! Come here.”
Nick’s eyes were still on Briana’s lips. She held her breath, waiting for him to speak, but he muttered a brief pardon and stalked away.
Watching his back, she slowly exhaled.
Only after the animated sound of the men’s voices drifted across the deck did she begin to relax. Through the cabin windows she noticed Nick, his arm stretched above him as he hung onto an overhead beam. He was following Keo’s hand to study something in the distance. Off the left-side of the boat, a dark shadow lingered beneath the milky green surface, its black tentacles extending like the bilge of an oil spill.
Until they told her otherwise, she was going to convince herself that the ink spot was harmless. In the distance, a fishing boat drifted lazily, though no one was on deck. Was the craft unmanned? There were no swimmers in the water around it. She swung to get Nick’s attention, but he and Keo were poured over a radar screen, the enclosed bridge obstructing her call.
Ahead loomed the shadow in the water. It was a deep well to play host to gothic creatures—a dark sanctuary for man’s greatest fears. Briana stared into the murky crater and felt dread seep into her.
It was this pit of obscurity that absorbed Nick and Keo as they emerged from the bridge.
“I’m telling you there’s something down there.”
“I’m not going to argue with you.” Nick delved into a locker to extract a snorkel and mask. With a hand on the cabin wall for support, he used the tip of his toe to peel off his loafer.
The sight of Nick stripping out of his shirt wrenched Briana’s gaze from the sea. A lean, bronzed back, wide at the shoulders and tapering into the worn rim of the jeans was a riveting sight.
Flushed from the sun, she swiped her bangs off her forehead.
Don’t look at him. She forced her gaze back to the sea and concentrated on the unmanned rig drifting aimlessly in the distance, undulating slowly towards the black water.
He couldn’t possibly think of diving into that pit?
Briana’s hand splayed across her queasy stomach. Maybe she could say something to dissuade him? Maybe with a logical appeal she could convince him to stay out of the water.
The muted splash behind her told her that she was already too late.
Despite her resolve, Briana rushed to the aft deck just before Nick disappeared under the surface. At that instant he looked up. Solemn brown eyes watched her from behind his mask. There was no congenial smile, no assuring wink—just that grim glance.
And then the ocean swallowed him.
“Don’t worry, he’s a pro.”
Jolted by the sound of Keo’s voice, Briana’s hands trembled. “I wasn’t worried.”
“All-righty then, but you’re mouth was hanging open wide enough to catch mosquitoes.”
It was hard to feign anger when Keo’s broad smile was so infectious. Briana secreted her grin by turning away, yet still she watched him amble about the deck to secure spare oxygen tanks. He was awfully dexterous for such a large man.
A few more minutes under the brilliant sun had perspiration pouring down the back of Keo’s neck. He swiped at the moisture, and with a huff, plopped himself down on a bench under the shade of the overhang. A meaty paw flapped before his face to seek relief from a non-existent breeze.
Briana couldn’t hold back any longer. Curiosity overruled caution. She approached the rail. On the surface, a trail of bubbles erupted where Nick had disappeared. But other than the soft exhalation of the sea, nothing of the man was revealed.
Minutes ticked by at a crawl, a
nd with each tick, Briana’s anxiety mounted. Her palms burned on the hot balustrade as she leaned impossibly forward. Still, the ocean depths held their secrets with dogged tenacity. Behind her, the big Hawaiian had grown equally restless and she could hear him muttering Nick’s name in between a few oaths.
Then she saw him.
A lithe shadow emerged from the depths. His head cracked the surface as he hoisted the mask atop near black hair, grinning up at her.
“Were you worried about me?”
Briana released her trapped breath. She stepped back as he hoisted himself over the rail.
“Absolutely not.”
He dropped his gear with a thud into the growing puddle on deck and shook his head to snap some water from his hair. Black waves framed the straight planes of his face. Briana’s gaze dropped to his chest where rivulets trailed through damp curls into the waistband he was now unbuttoning. Awkwardly she turned around and scowled when she heard quiet laughter behind her.
“It’s beautiful down there, Bree. Maybe someday I’ll convince you to go diving with me.”
Refusing to look over her shoulder, she vowed, “Not on your life.”
“Whatd’ya find, Nikolo?”
“Not so much what I found, but what I heard. A motor, faint—”
“That boat over there.” Briana studied the unmanned vessel and chanced a glance back at him, pleased to see that he was now dressed in a pair of navy shorts, but not thrilled to feel the effects of that attire. Tan, muscular thighs made her swallow several times before she added. “It must be theirs.”
Nick stepped up alongside her, his hands gripping the rail as he leaned forward. “No. Sound travels well under water. This was far away, almost indistinguishable, probably one of the marine vessels.”
“Aren’t you concerned about them? I mean there’s no one on board. Where are they?”
He touched her shoulder. “They’re over there.” His head nudged to the right. “See? The anchor is dropped, and there are two lines overboard. I heard them, didn’t see them though.”
The touch on her shoulder lingered seconds longer than necessary.
“Look,” his voice was gruff, “we’ll get you on shore, and then you better high tail it back to the office until they confirm the cause of death of those tuna.”
For whatever reason, he seemed to want to goad her. She nearly succumbed to the taunt, but corralled herself.
“I could have already been at my desk, enjoying my third cup of coffee by now if I hadn’t been snatched from the beach by some marauding pirate.”
“I like that.” He held his hand to his chin. “Marauding pirate. Hmmm, did you ever stop to think you wouldn’t need so many aspirin if you laid off the coffee?”
Exasperated, she moved away from the balustrade, and away from him.
“Briana.”
He stepped forward.
She retreated.
“Briana,” he repeated huskily.
“Don’t,” she challenged in a quiet voice.
“Nikolo?”
Nick’s head snapped at the invasion as Keo’s beefy shoulders jutted out the cabin.
“They’re calling you back to the lab.”
Nick turned towards Briana, but she had already withdrawn. Evading his gaze she clasped the balustrade, watching the ocean. Loving it. Fearing it.
***
As the Inquiry’s motors hummed and propelled the huge vessel into a wide arc, a snorkel emerged just thirty yards off its starboard side. Several seconds later, another joined it. Two water-masked faces studied the path of the diminishing cutter. With a calculating nod they submerged below the surface.
***
“So what do you think?”
“Gee, Takanawa, I just got here. I haven’t even had time to develop an opinion yet.”
“But she’s beautiful, isn’t she?” Naoki gazed longingly through his Grandmother’s kitchen door, into the dining room.
Briana followed that puppy dog glance and confirmed that indeed the woman known only as Joy, was an attractive creature, with her svelte muscular frame and glossy black hair.
“Dinner’s coming.” Briana announced, suspending a tale of love and loyalty in Japan, and Keito’s proclamation that loyalty was such a commendable trait in women.
“The rolls,” Briana prompted, “Keito, come with me and get the rolls.”
With an apologetic smile at the young female guest, Briana disappeared back through the door, her hand tugging the cotton fabric of Keito’s dress.
“You’re as subtle as a hungry lion,” Keito admonished.
Leaning against the counter, Briana smiled at the woman with black hair laced with silver strands. It was hoisted into a tight bun—so tight it nearly straightened any wrinkles that might have formed around Keito Takanawa’s sharp eyes.
“As are you. Why didn’t you simply demand her birth certificate and a resume?”
“Briana,” Keito began patiently as she peered through the oven door. “When is the last time Naoki brought a woman here for dinner?”
“Two days ago, and I must say the chicken teriyaki was exceptionally good the other night.”
“Don’t start with me, girl.”
A smile that revealed the depth of love she held for Naoki’s grandmother curved Briana’s lips. She reached into the refrigerator and poured four glasses of iced green tea.
“I don’t know,” Keito continued, “there’s something about her—” Never completing the thought, instead she rushed on to the next culinary task.
Yes, there was something about Joy with no last name. Beautiful in a natural way, with no makeup to distort her features. Quiet to the point that she rarely spoke unless spoken to. Nonetheless, there was something disturbing about the young woman.
“You have to admit, you’re a bit intimidating.” Briana mused.
“Hmmmph,” Dismissing her with the wave of a mitt, Keito spoke over running water.
“Hey, will you two stop gossiping, and get out here?” A pair of black-framed glasses poked through the door.
“On our way.”
Once Naoki disappeared, Briana faced Keito and held a hand over her heart. “I really hope this works out for him.”
***
“So Joy, are you still in college, or working?”
“Working.” The voice was refined, void of any accent.
“Good, good.”Keito strove for patience over the single syllable answers. She caught a glimpse of her grandson’s smitten face, and the hand that rested only an inch from the graceful fingers beside it.
She continued, carefully. “And where do you work?”
A momentary frown wove across dark eyebrows before Joy set her fork down and met the Asian woman’s curious stare.
“Research.”
It was all Briana could do not to roll her eyes. Jumping in before Keito lost all composure, she commented. “For the university?”
“No,” Joy sensed everyone watching her, and added evasively. “Historical.”
“Oh,” Not sure what to make of that, and uncertain whether she should pursue the matter and enlist in more vacuous responses, Briana instead delved into the chicken and rice.
“Joy hasn’t been on the island long, she’s been in L.A.”
“Oh.” Keito nodded, as if the Eastern Mecca of Los Angeles should explain any eccentricities. She dabbed at the corners of her lips with a napkin and met the level gaze of her visitor.
“So, Joy, you like Hawaii? Do you surf?”
Joy nodded. Then, as if realizing that the simple shrug would not suffice, she sighed and added, “Yes, actually I do.”
Curiosity now toyed with Joy’s typically banal expression as she turned her attention towards Briana. False eagerness laced her monotone voice. “Would you like to come out with me some time?”
“Bree doesn’t go in the water.” Naoki mumbled over a mouthful.
“Why? Don’t you like it?”
A charged pause elapsed, in which Briana sip
ped some tea and gazed through the curtains to the miniature, red-arched bridge and sculpted pond Keito had worked so industriously on. This garden would look wonderful as an entryway into the new site going up in Kona.
“Her parents—”
“Grandson!”
Naoki’s head flew up and he tried to look angry, but squelched under his grandmother’s intense stare.
Waiting a second to see what developed, Joy pressed the subject, suddenly interested in the dinner conversation. “The ocean is beautiful, it offers such treasures.”
Fascinated with the slothful trek of a school of fat poi in the pond outside, Briana replied bleakly. “It also takes treasures.”
Seemingly intrigued now, Joy was undeterred. “That it does, but the fun is digging them up a hundred, or several hundred years later.”
For a brief second Briana turned to look at the woman with unabashed horror, then regrouped and smiled pleasantly. “You’re an archaeologist?”
“No.” Joy forked a piece of chicken and kept her gaze down.
Okay, we’re back to the single syllables again.
Keito rose to remove Naoki’s plate. Hefting an eyebrow in her direction, Briana could feel the elder woman trying to analyze the placid smile glued to her face.
Keito knew her too well. Through long nights, over steaming cups of tea, this astute woman had become her surrogate mother. Granted, they had met only a few years ago when Briana was already an adult. But still, even at that mature age, the need for a maternal bond was strong. Naoki had only been three when his parents were killed in an earthquake in Kobe. He was too young to remember them. He had his grandparents all along. Briana had known the love of her parents—and then that love was gone.
Only thirteen when they were taken from her, she recalled it being an age where she was old enough to taste independence, and young enough to cry tirelessly for them. The ensuing search by Social Services produced a great aunt in Oregon that was willing to support her. Briana survived that spell, and when she was old enough, she returned to the land she considered home. Pristine white sand was her only native soil.
For so long she had been alone, and when Naoki first brought her to his house after work, independence and belligerence still hardened her.
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