Alive at 5 (Entangled Ignite) (6 page)

Oh. Right. “To question her more about the deaths?” she asked to cover her embarrassment.

“You can’t actually talk underwater.” He grinned.

Clenching her jaw, she said, “Funny.”

He chuckled softly. “Yes, of course to dig for information. That’s why we’re both here, right?”

So he’d finally admitted it. Enough of his playing around. “Who do you work for?”

“I’m a rich, arrogant egomaniac, remember?” he drawled. “I couldn’t possibly work for a living.”

She leaned into his space. “Don’t you think I have the right to know?” She couldn’t stop her fingers from fidgeting. He was getting to her. “You know who I work for.”

“Maybe I work for myself.”

“And maybe you don’t.”

“Why does it matter?”

“I need to know I can trust you.”

“One has nothing to do with the other. You can trust me.”

She wanted to scream. His words tangled her up with frustration. Getting anything out of him was harder than figuring out a damn Rubik’s cube. “I’ve been a reporter for a long time. I usually read people quickly, but you’re a real mystery.”

“Don’t try to solve the mystery of me.” He patted her on the back like a little sister, which only made her blood pressure rise. “Stick to your original game plan. Find clues that someone killed Maxwell Wentworth. That’s a goal we both share.”

His eyes always had such intensity behind them. What was behind all that passion? She had to know.
All in good time
. Taking a deep breath, she made an earnest appeal. “Please watch out for George.”

“I’m not diving with George.” Zack balled both fists. “I told you that. I work alone. Always.” He gave her a quick salute and headed toward the ridge above the Orange Grove Sink.

She didn’t even realize she was holding her breath until a tap on her shoulder startled her, and an exhale
whoosh
ed out.

“Do you want to see the pictures?”

She spun around. “Oh, hi.” Her hand clutched reflexively at her chest as she willed her heart to slow down again. It was just the X-Force photographer. “Sure. Are they good?”

The bald man smiled at her like a shy schoolboy. “You take a great picture.” He held out the digital camera in front of her.

Zack’s smile took up most of the shot, but hey, it was a nice smile. She relaxed her shoulders.

“Do you think his dive will bring up bad memories?”

“I’m sorry?”

The small man was standing a bit too close now. “Zack’s dive.” Wide-eyed, he shuffled even closer to her. “Don’t you think it’s odd he wants to do this?”

“Why?” She took a step away from him. “Isn’t this what he’s
paying
for?”

The little creep followed her, moving into her personal space. “You know Zack’s uncle died last year on a dive in this same cave, right?”

His revelation sucked the air right out of her. It was like a vacuum had been attached to her mouth, and he had flipped on the switch. She started to flush, despite having felt a chill just a moment ago. “No. I didn’t know.”

“I’m surprised he didn’t tell you.”

So am I.
Her shock at hearing the news must be splashed all over her face. She struggled to school her features. “Um. Why would he? I doubt he wants to talk about it on camera.”

She searched out Zack, but he was concentrating on his preparations for the underwater cave dive, and didn’t notice her. Well, this explained his interest in Maxwell’s accident scene, and his reason for investigating the so-called accidents happening on the adventure trips in the first place.

“Yeah, I was shooting pictures last year when his uncle dove the sink with three other vacationers. He never surfaced.”

“That’s terrible.” She would have to call Stuart to confirm this information and find out what he knew about Zack’s dead uncle. That had to be the wealthy guy from New York that Stuart had referred to.

The X-Force vacation photographer shook his head. “They found his body trapped in one of the underwater tunnels. Such a shame. The man was still in his prime. Fifty-five, I think.”

She put a hand to his shoulder and firmly backed him away from her, sending what she hoped was a definitive message.

“Do you know his name?” she asked. Why wouldn’t Zack have told her this very important detail? They’d had plenty of time alone to share information. And why was this creep dishing out Zack’s family dirt to her?

He shook his head thoughtfully. “Can’t remember, but I can look it up for you.”

“Thanks. That would be great.”

“You really didn’t know?” The photographer placed his hand on her arm, as if to comfort her.

“No, but hey, he’s not my friend or anything.” Her stomach rolled. “I’m just a reporter here to do a story on him.”

The photographer watched her with a question in his gaze. “Yeah, I guess. But, if I were a reporter, I’d wonder what else he hadn’t told me. And why.”

No kidding.

And as soon as she could get rid of the little weirdo, she intended to ask Zack exactly that.

Chapter Five

Staring at the cement staircase leading down into the murky Orange Grove Sink, a sense of dread clawed at Zack’s gut. After more than a year of not diving, the uncomfortable cramping proved he was still nervous about going under.

The last time he’d taken a dive, he’d been working, looking for a missing kid who’d gone under jet skiing off Florida’s west coast.

He and his police partner had been searching in the Gulf, off St. Petersburg, when his coworker’s gear had malfunctioned and he’d drowned. A sour taste lingered in the back of Zack’s throat. He hadn’t been paying attention when his buddy had failed to keep up with him. He couldn’t stop blaming himself for not backing up his partner.

On the heels of that unfortunate accident, his uncle had died diving in this very sink.

Right now, as he stared down at the rippling surface below the rocky edge, the muddiness of the water mirrored his thoughts, and he wondered if it would be safer for everyone if he stayed topside.

No
. He had to see this through. For his uncle. And for his own peace of mind.

He adjusted his regulator, and descended into the Orange Grove Sink in his scuba gear, moving slowly and deliberately until the chilly water covered his head and he could swim freely. The rhythmic sound of his breathing and the chill of the water began to lull him into a numb state.

Which was exactly what he needed right now.

Drifting down through the water, his thoughts traveled back to days when he’d gone diving with his uncle. His heart began to beat faster as the sunlight from above dimmed and the water around him grew darker, matching his memories. The light strapped around his head and a handheld flashlight guided him.

His uncle used to sneak him away from his father in order to give him a break from the constant verbal and physical abuse. Jackson knew this incredibly different world would give him hope. His eyes watered behind his mask, but he fought back the raw grief still living deep inside him.

His gaze darted around the cavern, drinking in the rich environment he used to crave seeing. The pyrotechnic display of daylight refracted into beautiful curtains of color that stained the limestone walls. The murky brown of the water dissolved into a mesmerizing blue-green, and he allowed himself to be swept away by the awesome power of the experience.

But only for a few too-short moments.

He had a responsibility, a mission to fulfill down here today. He needed to use all his skill to try and find some clue that might explain how—and why—his uncle had died.

A team of medically certified cave divers had recovered Jackson’s body and the medical examiner had ruled his uncle’s death an accidental drowning. Just like that Pasco County detective had told Samantha. No more details had followed, even when Zack had used his pull as a law officer to dig.

He was near the bottom of the Orange Sink now and he saw there were a few smaller, tunnel-like caves that branched out from the main cavern. He stopped in front of the one bearing a warning sign with a large picture of a dark, scowling Grim Reaper.

He’d bet anything that sign had enticed his thrill-seeking uncle.

For a moment, he treaded water in indecision. But his instincts told him he was on the right track and he made up his mind. Before he entered the smaller cave, he secured his guideline on a rock near the entrance and snapped on an arrow pointing to the surface, in case he became disoriented. Then he reeled out more line.

Out of habit, he glanced back. He gasped, almost losing his regulator.

The fucking TV cameraman was swimming right behind him, underwater camera in hand, probably shooting video of him.
Damn it.

His body temperature rose, despite the cool water. Motioning for the kid not to follow, he pointed repeatedly to the warning sign of the Grim Reaper.

How the fuck had he not noticed a partner
again
?
Because he’d been too preoccupied, inside his own damn head
. But he wasn’t down here today with an experienced police diver. He was dealing with a TV cameraman who was probably an amateur diver—and a stubbornly persistent reporter waiting at the top of the sink ready to spew questions his way when they surfaced.
Fuck.

His frustration exited in a stream of bubbles. He could either swim with the kid back to the surface, making the required stops for decompression, which would eat precious minutes from his total allowed dive time, or he could go just a little further now…and keep a careful eye on the kid.

He was so close to possible answers
.

He motioned for the cameraman to follow.

George nodded. The tunnel narrowed precipitously, so Zack had to swim slowly to avoid stirring up silt from the cave floor.

A ripple of water hit his back. The hair on his neck floated on end as the energy behind him shifted. Years in the special forces had fine-tuned each of his senses so acutely that his body alerted him to a crisis almost before it appeared.

He stilled instantly.

The water continued to move.

Careful not to further stir up silt, he looked back at George.

His bright light hit George’s mask, making the kid’s eyes pop wide open like some horror movie victim. George’s hand rose to shield his face. He twisted away from the light. His sudden, erratic movements kicked up a cloud of silt from the cave floor, encircling them in a thick, sandy cloak.

Shit!
Had his light frightened George? Or was the photographer reacting to something else? The kid was big and tall, flailing around in the tight tunnel. Zack reached for the side of the cave, bracing himself for the impact of the resulting sandstorm. His fingers found a crevice in which he could anchor another guideline.

Just in time.

A wave of brown obscured his vision to zero despite the headlight. He took slow, steady breaths, fighting not to feel claustrophobic in his sudden blindness. He swept his flashlight beam around.

A flash of black swirled past. George’s wet suit? With one hand tight on the reel that held his guideline, he quickly attached the flashlight to his dive belt and reached out with his free hand. He swiped at the cloud of sand, hoping to find an arm or a leg. His fingers grazed George’s wrist. Zack latched on. His heart rapped against his chest so fiercely he had trouble breathing.

George struggled with something Zack couldn’t see. The cameraman wrenched to one side, then the other, pulling against his hold.

Zack held tight, his body absorbing the jerky motions. Apprehension tightened his throat. Was he in trouble? Even in a narrow tunnel, a diver could drift and get lost in a matter of minutes. Or lose his regulator and his air.

His fingers slipped off the slick neoprene of George’s dive suit.
Shit!
His pulse lurched as he lost contact. He sliced his hand around in the liquid murkiness, trying to find him again.

But it was no use. He sensed the water go still and empty around him.

The kid had disappeared.

Chapter Six

Sam sat on the edge of her hotel room bed. Her fingers drummed against the beige and brown bedspread, her right foot tapped the floor as if she was keeping time to some high-intensity rock song.

But silence filled the room.

Maybe she should have stayed at the Orange Grove Sink and waited for Zack and George to surface, but George had told her they’d be down for a while and frankly, she’d been itching to do a little investigating and some online research on Jackson Hunter and Scott Fitzpatrick. She wasn’t able to get a wireless connection in the woods near the sink, but she’d connected at a diner near the Holiday Inn in Live Oak. She’d been reading up on Zack’s dead uncle and the first man who died so she could grill Stuart Johnson about what else local law enforcement knew, when her waitress, a cute redhead named Rita, had asked her about the headlines she was reading online.

It turned out that Rita had hooked up with a former vacationer last year. After much subtle manipulation on Sam’s part, Rita finally spilled some interesting information about her “boyfriend” and how he’d been diving one day when another vacationer from New York had died in the caves. Bingo! The waitress had been busy juggling about seven tables but had promised to swing by the motel after she got off work and bring Sam a dive DVD that she hoped would be their first real clue. She had been so excited to share this info with Zack, she’d barely been able to eat.

Now, three hours later, the detective hadn’t called her back, the waitress still hadn’t gotten in touch with her, and neither George nor Zack were answering their cell phones.

A knock came at the door. She sprang off the bed and yanked the door open.

“George!”

He leaned up against the doorframe, his head down and his shoulders slumped.

Slightly annoyed, the words blew out of her. “Where have you been? I’ve been trying to call you.”

When he slowly brought his head up, Sam took a step back, stunned by the haunted look in his eyes and the tangled mess of his red hair. His skin, normally white with freckles and a hint of sunburn, looked ashen and downright alarming. She blinked to make sure she was seeing correctly. “My God, are you okay? You look like death.”

He groped toward her. “I need to sit down.”

She reached out and took his camera bag, ushering him inside. Quickly, she stepped outside the hotel room and checked the hallway, then the parking lot. “Where’s Zack?”

George didn’t respond.

When she turned back around, he was lowering himself onto the king-sized bed, carefully, as if injured. He eased his head onto a pillow and gingerly threw an arm over his forehead. “I almost died today.”

“What?” She sprinted back into the room, but left the door open in case Zack was parking the car or something. George looked like a man who’d just thrown up his dinner. “What the hell happened?”

“It all went down so fast. Shit.”

Her heart fluttered. Where was Zack? She hurried over to the bed, sat at George’s side, and grasped his arm. His skin felt cold and clammy. “You need to tell me what’s going on.”

George rubbed his head agitatedly. “The dive started out great. The first rush of cold water freaked me out, but as soon as my body adjusted, I fell right into the groove. I followed Zack after he went in, just like you suggested.” He sat up and filled her in on the scary details of his dive gone wrong. “He led but, you know, I don’t think he knew I was with him at first.” He lifted a shoulder. “The dude was, like, in his own zone or something.” His eyebrows bunched toward the center of his forehead. “Eventually we got to an entrance where the cave narrowed into a small tunnel. There was this big sign with the Grim Reaper on it.”

She was getting a bad feeling about this. “Let me guess. Zack ignored it.”

“Yeah.”

Her pulse kicked up. She was actually a bit envious of Zack’s obvious lust for excitement and total lack of fear. “And you followed him in there?”

“You told me not to let him out of my sight. And shit, I didn’t want to be down there alone. Jesus. That guy has got balls the size of—”

She put her hand up. “Yeah, I get it. What happened next?”

“The ceiling was so low in some places it was impossible for me to lift my head without bumping into rock. Pretty freaky.”

Her stomach clenched. She hated confined spaces. She grew increasingly nauseous as George described how he’d freaked out when something brushed up against his fins, setting off a sand storm underground.

She closed her eyes and envisioned that moment deep in the underwater cave. On second thought, she could do without those images in her head. When she opened her eyes, he had started shaking. That was a first. Damn, he was really traumatized.

Or maybe he was suffering from hypothermia? She got up and searched the closet for a blanket.

“Oh man, did I fuck up. I kicked up all that shit on the cave floor, and in, like, five seconds I couldn’t see a damn thing. The lights didn’t help. The water had turned brown—like a whiteout on the ski slopes.” He clutched at his chest. “I didn’t have any guideline attached to me. Both my hands were gripping the underwater camera casing, and”—he took a deep breath—“I didn’t know what the hell to do. I was thinking, do I drop the camera and swim for the wall? Or do I keep the equipment and lose my sense of direction? I just panicked. I mean, fuck.”

She walked back to the bed, the blanket under her arm. His muscles were actually twitching. Adrenaline, no doubt. She wrapped the thin, white blanket around his shoulders. He shivered so hard his teeth rattled.

“How did you get out?” Her mouth had gone bone dry. She reached across for a bottle of water on the other nightstand, took a sip, then handed it to him.

“I swam straight with the current, with my arms outstretched, and damn if I didn’t run right into Zack. He grabbed my wrist, but then I lost my bearings again and my wrist slipped from his grip.” His shoulders rounded over, and he took a deep breath. “I thought I was a goner for sure.”

“Jesus, then what happened?” Why was her stomach cramping? George had survived.

“Zack reached out for me again. He grabbed my wrist and—he saved my ass. That’s what he did. He got my hand and led me to the guideline. Let me tell you, I did not let go of that line until I saw sky—and I don’t mean through the water.”

She watched her friend as he rubbed his temples.

“Maybe you should see a doctor.”

“I did. One of the guys on the trip is an ER doc. He checked my vitals and said I was fine.” He let out a long breath and nudged her in the arm. “Where the hell were you when I came up?”

“I came back here to look something up online. Did you know—”

“Here’s the best part.” His red-rimmed eyes regained some life. “Not once did I let go of that camera. I rolled the whole time.” He let out a strained laugh. “Fuck, I just forgot to shut the damn thing off. Should make for a great video, though. The kind of shit that gets all kinds of hits on YouTube. Stan will piss his pants over it.”

“Great. Maybe your brush with death will buy me another week on the payroll,” she drawled, relieved that he could make light of his potentially deadly adventure. She pulled him into a hug. “I’m so glad you’re okay.” She held him until he stopped shaking, and his heart slowed its pace. Finally, she asked, “And Zack?”

“He took off right after he made sure I was okay. Said he had to meet someone.”

Breaking the hug, she pushed back. “He abandoned you? To meet someone?”

“Doc said I was fine.”

“Who is he meeting in the backwoods of the Florida Panhandle?”

“He didn’t say.”

“Did you ask?”

“No, that’s your job.”

She pierced him with an irritated look. “So helpful.”

“Hey. Guys don’t pry into each other’s personal business. We leave that to you women.”

“Neanderthal,” she scolded. “Listen, I found out something today that you need to know.” She held his shoulders so he’d pay close attention. “Zack’s uncle died in that same sink last year. He went cave diving, and never surfaced.”

“His
uncle
? No shit.” His eyes widened in surprise. “Zack told you that?”

“No, he did
not
tell me that, and that’s the point I’m trying to make.”

“Can’t be true, then.”

“It is true. I looked it up online.”

George straightened his back and pressed his lips firmly together. “What are you getting at?”

“I don’t trust him. First, this news about his uncle, and then he leaves you right after you almost die. Something’s going on, and I don’t like being left out.”

“He saved my life. Don’t make this into something sinister.”

She stood up and started pacing. As if she could sit still. “Obviously he doesn’t trust us enough to tell us his real motivation for being here, and he has no problem endangering our lives while we help him investigate. Aren’t you curious who he’s working for? Maybe he’s a private investigator. Maybe he had a meeting with his boss.”

“Maybe he just wants to find out what happened to his uncle, but he isn’t a sharing kind of guy. A lot of us aren’t.” He gave her a pointed look.

“Yeah, I get we’re different, but this is serious. I don’t trust him.”

“You don’t trust any man.”

Her jaw dropped. “I trust you.”

A ringtone cut off his response. He reached for his cell. “Yeah?” He sent her a smug glance. “I’m cool, man. A little wiped out, but fine.”

She mouthed, “Zack?”

George nodded.

She scooted closer and reached for his phone.

He gently pushed her hand away. “Yeah, she’s right here. I think she’d like to talk to you, too.”

She grabbed the phone. “Zack? I’ve been calling you. I have a couple of questions I need you to answer.”

“I’m sure you do.”

She took a deep breath. “I want to know—”

“No, I didn’t get hurt during that diving accident. I’m fine. Thank you for asking.”

“George already told me,” she said, ignoring the sarcasm in his voice, swept away by an overwhelming feeling of déjà vu.
Skydiving accident. Cave diving accident
. “Why didn’t you tell me about—?”

“I think I know what you’re about to ask me,” he interrupted. His voice had that gravely edge to it that came with exhaustion. “I’ll answer your questions, but not over the phone. Meet me at Skipper’s. It’s a bar and grill on Spencer Avenue. I’ll be there at eight.”

“I don’t—” She quivered with uncertainty.

“And Samantha, I want you to come alone.”