Going Down (Divemasters #1)

by Jayne Rylon

  Had they visited every single site on the island yet? He’d have to check the marine park map tucked into his logbook tonight, and speed up the process if they hadn’t. They couldn’t have much time left. A week at most, he figured.

  Maybe the impending shakeup made him clingy, since Archer found himself nostalgic for once. Curious, since they’d been places so lush and green they almost hurt to look at. Somehow, he’d fallen in love with the deserts of Bonaire, the donkeys that wandered into the road and blocked traffic, and the one-way roads on the north side of the island that forced you to do a tour of the lake just to get back to town. He couldn’t get enough of watching the world-class kite surfers on Lac Bay, kayaking through the mangroves, exploring the caves complete with ancient paintings, or hanging out in the blustery gusts on the wild east side…next stop, Africa. Even the salt fields where the locals pumped water onto the land—no good for anything else, certainly not growing anything edible—to evaporate it and sell the sea salt left behind seemed charming when they were dotted with grazing flamingos. And the salt pier where the goods were put on giant ships was one of the coolest places to dive under and around, always teeming with tarpon, groupers, and schools of barracudas.

  People in Bonaire made the best of everything they’d been given. Like he, Tosin, and Miguel had done.

  He remembered the adventures they’d had together so far instead of looking forward to whatever came next. If things worked out like Banks kept assuring him it would, maybe they could return someday. Here or to any of the other places they’d discovered on their journey around the world.

  Tosin dropped a cooler full of beer onto the sand between the blankets Archer had only barely finished spreading over the crushed coral. He rubbed his bare abs above the shorts he’d tugged on to conceal his European-style trunks. “I’m starving.”

  “Nothing new there.” Archer snorted.

  “Hey, all that swimming makes a man hungry.” Tosin practically drooled. “Besides, I burned off a ton of calories last night with the gorgeous Asian woman we met in the market a couple days ago.”

  “Aki?” Archer prided himself on recalling her name along with the lilac bikini that hadn’t concealed her outstanding rack.

  “Sounds right. Why? You didn’t already do her and forget to mention it, did you?” Tosin squinted at Archer. He glanced away, pretending to stare at the waves kissing the shore. His friend misinterpreted his awkwardness. “Wait, you didn’t call dibs and I forgot—?”

  They may have been players, but even they had their own code between them. No poaching being one of the cardinal rules that had kept them from having a major falling out these past twelve years.

  “Nah, nothing like that. Just…an unusual name. Pretty.”

  “I guess. Not as pretty as some other things about her, though.” Tosin shrugged. “Anyway, it was her last night in town. She showed up at my door, so I helped her make some sexy memories for her scrapbook.”

  Lucky for the hungry horndog, Miguel was heading back, his arms piled with takeout containers.

  Archer promised himself he’d put away every morsel of his. Not only because he could see the chalkboard bolted to the side of the truck. Lionfish—his favorite—was the special of the day.

  It seemed a month of freaking out every moment he wasn’t underwater had started to take its toll. He’d mooned an entire boatload of divers the day before when his trunks had refused to hug his hips no matter how hard he yanked on the tie that cinched the waist. The straps on his BCD couldn’t get any tighter either.

  He rubbed the back of his neck.

  “Still not sleeping well?” Tosin asked.

  “There are probably better mattresses in prison than my bunkhouse. Or maybe I’m getting old. Creaky. Probably should make an appointment for a massage or something.” That was no lie. He practically got a cramp in his knotted shoulder muscles as he tried to shrug off his friend’s concern before Miguel could wander into hearing range and start hounding him again.

  Too late.

  “What you need is to get your dick sucked,” Miguel ribbed Archer as he passed out orders, slinging his shaggy hair out of his eyes with a whip of his head.

  “You offering?” He kicked some sand in the asshole’s direction, knowing that wasn’t his intention.

  “Hell no.” Miguel snorted. “That new brunette working the fryer wrote her number on a napkin and asked me to give it to you, though. I’m pretty sure you could pretend I forgot your fork and have that food cart rocking before I finish my salad. Be careful you don’t set any important bits on fire while you’re at it, though.”

  “Not interested.” Archer shook his head. Now, if she’d had black hair and blue eyes, maybe he could have pretended it meant something long enough for his dick to get hard.

  Tosin and Miguel exchanged stares for a little too long.

  “What?” he asked.

  “Look, I don’t want to get up in your business, but…what the hell is going on?” Tosin demanded as he tore into a mountain of garlic shrimp. “She’s your type. Tall, athletic, tan. Natural. Down to fuck. If she doesn’t do it for you, no one will. And you haven’t taken a woman home in weeks.”

  A month, Archer mentally corrected.

  Miguel jumped in when Tosin ran out of steam. Or needed another bite of his dinner. Priorities, people. “I can’t remember you ever having a dry spell like this before. Did you break your dick? Catch something? What? Come on, we won’t laugh…much. Tell us.”

  Archer grimaced. “You’re idiots. Both of you.”

  “You’re dodging. Is he right, then? You’re clearing up a case of the clap or something?” Tosin’s eyes narrowed as he thought back, as if trying to figure out when Archer might have snuck off to the botika for a shot of antibiotics in the ass.

  “Jesus, no.” He groaned. “My junk is fine, okay? It’s just that I’ve been thinking a lot lately.”

  About mistakes he’d made, and how he might fix them going forward. About her. About holding out for someone who might make him feel like she used to or, at least, something close.

  “Thinking! What the fuck you doing that for, bro?” Miguel chided with a smirk as he inhaled another piece of grilled barracuda from between his fingers.

  Tosin agreed, “Dumb idea.”

  “Tell me about it.” A grimace crossed Archer’s face. He had to give them something or they’d keep hounding him. Besides, maybe it was time to dip a toe in and see how they might react. “I guess I’m starting to wonder if there should be more to life.”

  “More than great sex, diving, and hanging out at the beach with your friends?” Tosin spread his arms, still clutching some shrimp between his thumb and forefinger.

  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 r
est 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.

  Four

  Miguel 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 un
buckled 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.