Deep Water (9 page)

He waited for the usual gasp of horror and
overflowing sympathy. Dunn surprised him by nodding. “So you came out here to
spend your last holiday in the sunshine,” the other man said. “Sensible.
Although I would think the coast of Spain would have been closer for you if you
wanted warm weather.”

“That’s the problem. It’s too close.”
Griffin shook his head. “I don’t want people fussing over me. I just want to
relax and be out on the water while I still can.”

“I understand.” Dunn turned and glanced
out one of the large lounge windows. A sliver of the cove could be seen through
it, tropical blue under the bright sky. “But I would think it’s risky for you
to go out sailing by yourself. And it would be a terrible waste if you
accidentally sloughed this mortal coil while you still have some good days
ahead of you. So I have a proposition for you.”

Griffin narrowed his eyes. “Oh, yeah? Like
what?”

The tall man folded his hands on the
counter. “I would like to offer my services as first mate. Since I work for
myself, I can arrange my hours as I see fit so I can sail with you whenever you
like. That way, you still get your time on the water.”

Griffin’s first response was to snap that
he didn’t need a minder.
Don’t be an
arsehole
. He’s trying to help.

“That’s very generous of you,” he finally
said. “But what’s in it for you?”

“One, I enjoy sailing and I haven’t had
much time to do it recently. Two, you strike me as an agreeable type, and I
enjoy talking to you. Three…” Dunn nodded at the bag of cheese on the counter.
“I brought you a large chunk of white Cheshire in the land of petrochemical
byproducts otherwise known as American cheese. I expect at least one damned sandwich
out of it.”

Griffin grinned at that. “You have a
point. Fine, you’re hired. Let me get a shower and a shave, and we’ll take her
out.”

“With sandwiches,” Dunn said.

“With sandwiches,” Griffin agreed,
levering himself out of his chair. “And since first mate takes care of the
food, you’d better get started on that, right?”

As he left the kitchen, he chuckled at the
gobsmacked
look on Dunn’s face.

Chapter Four

Amphitrite sat back in her chair, smiling
at Nick. “So how have you been sleeping?” she asked.

“The nightmares have been easing off,”
Nick said, lounging in his own chair. “Haven’t had one for a couple of nights,
so I count that as a win.”

“Excellent.” Before coming to the cove, Nick,
a sexual submissive, had been assaulted by his sadistic ex-Dom during a scene
gone severely wrong. He still had a healing scar in the shape of a capital B on
his chest, and both Liam and Aidan bore physical and emotional injuries from their
own encounter with the late Barnard Whitfield. Amphitrite had volunteered her
therapist skills to assist Nick and his mates with their recovery. “How’s the
job coming along?”

“Which one?” Nick said with a smile.

Amphitrite smiled back. “Both, actually.”

“Well, Chiron’s been riding my ass about
selkie
physiology, but that’s par for the course with him.
The ER job is working out nicely. I like my boss and most of my coworkers, so
I’m pretty happy on that front.”

She made a mental note of his last
comment. “When were you and the boys planning on going back to Chicago to close
up your apartment?”

He chewed his lip. “We were going to do it
in a couple of weeks, but now I think I may hold off on that.”

“Why?”

“We’ve got this new neighbor—took the
cottage over here.” He thumbed at the north wall. “Nice guy, but he’s got a
brain tumor and he’s terminal. I got the impression that this is his last
vacation. I’d just feel better if I hung around until he left or … you know.”

Once again Amphitrite was struck by the
compassion mortals could show for one another. “That’s very kind of you,” she
said. “It must be difficult for you as a doctor to be in that position.”

“Knowing he’s going to die and I can’t
stop it?” Nick sighed, scrubbing at his bristled cheek. “To be honest, yeah, I
hate it. But even with the Rod there’s nothing I can do for him except be there
if he has another seizure or something.”

“Another seizure?”

“Yeah—” Nick hesitated. “Um, Poseidon
brought him here yesterday. Apparently Griffin was seizing out on the pier.”

“Oh.” For a moment she wondered what
Poseidon was doing with a mortal, then put the thought aside. “Well, that was
kind of him, as well. I take it he—your neighbor, I mean—came out of the
seizure without any issues?”

“Yeah, otherwise I would have taken him to
ORMC.” He grimaced. “To be honest I still want to do that, but he talked me out
of it.”

“I see.” That flutter of curiosity was
back. “Did Poseidon explain why he was with this man?”

“I think they were out on Griffin’s boat.”

“Ah.”

Nick looked wary. “Is that a problem?”

“Not at all. Poseidon is free to do
whatever he likes,” she said, ignoring the brief stab of—annoyance, it was
simply annoyance. “It’s nice to see him taking an interest in mortals again.
He’s held himself aloof for far too long, in my opinion.”

Now the doctor’s eyebrows came down. “He
definitely wasn’t aloof. He almost exploded when I told him Griffin was
terminal.”

Another stab of
it was just annoyance.
“Yes, well, Poseidon can be rather forceful
at times,” she said.

Nick rubbed his throat. “I noticed.”

Amphitrite spotted the faint bloom of a
bruise peeking out over his collar. Her annoyance disappeared, replaced by
anger. “Did he do that?” she asked, nodding at his throat.

“Uh, yeah. He
kinda
grabbed me by the collar after I told him about Griffin. Liam got him off me
and he apologized. It’s no big deal.”

Amphitrite pressed her lips together.
After Nick’s abuse at the hands of Barnard Whitfield and the outright torture
his mate Liam had experienced from the vicious mortal, the last thing either of
them needed was being manhandled by a god. “If you say so,” she said. “If it
happens again, however, please let me know. I’ll have a word with him.”

“It’s okay,” Nick reassured her. “Trust
me, I’ve gotten worse bruises from ER patients.”

She nodded, turning the conversation onto
other topics. But it was most definitely not okay.

****

“Husband? A word, if you don’t mind.”

Poseidon turned from his contemplation of
the cove. That day’s sailing with Griffin had been even more pleasant than the
first one. However, the mortal had been appalled at his lack of cinematic
knowledge and had made humorous threats about something called a “movie night”.
The idea of doing anything with Griffin at night was deeply appealing, and
Poseidon looked forward to it.

Belatedly, he gave the beautiful Nereid
glaring at him a bow. “Amphitrite. How may I help you?”

“What in Gaia’s name do you think you’re
doing?”

Poseidon’s jaw dropped slightly. How had she
found out about Griffin already? “I beg your pardon?”

“Nick, you oaf.” She planted her hands on
her hips. “He didn’t want to say anything, obviously out of some misbegotten
sense of male loyalty, but I saw the bruises on his throat. What did you do to
him?”

He relaxed a bit. “Ah. I was … taken aback
by something he’d said.”

“What you were was abusive,” she snapped.
“Both Liam and Nick are already suffering from mild PTSD, and I won’t have you making
the situation worse.”

He winced, remembering his grip on the
physician’s shirt collar. “I did apologize.”

“You shouldn’t have touched him in the
first place.” Her eyes narrowed. “I don’t inquire into your affairs—I never
have, and I never will. But whatever is happening with this Griffin person, I
will not have you taking it out on Nick or anyone else at the cove. Is that clear?”

Poseidon’s heart stuttered at the name of
their
agapetos
. He had to seize the
moment. “Quite clear. And while we’re on the subject, I need to tell you something
about Griffin—”

Amphitrite’s face, already strained,
turned dark. “Please don’t. I’ve never objected to your paramours, but that
doesn’t mean I want to hear about them.”

Taken aback, Poseidon wondered just how
many “paramours” his wife had known about. “But—”

“Don’t!” With an irritated shake of her
head, she opened a portal and stepped through it.

Poseidon stared at the space where she had
been, then sighed. “Dammit,
Ammie
,” he said softly.

****

Ian twiddled his bare toes in the warm
air, the heat from his laptop toasting his thighs through his shorts. He’d had
a rare day off from godhood. Aphros had been called away to drill with a new
battalion of tritons, and Bythos needed to do some research on different energy
absorption paths in coral. Even Poseidon seemed oddly distracted, not popping
in to insist on yet another training exercise or even leaving a sarcastic note.

He’d taken the opportunity to get in some
writing time on his novel
Greenstrike
. After a day of work on the porch, however, the
beach beckoned with a siren’s call that couldn’t be ignored. Grabbing a bucket
and filling it with ice and bottles of Sam Adams, he’d lugged bucket and laptop
out to the loungers in back of the cottage and settled in for the afternoon.

Deep in edit mode, he was trying to think
of a good synonym for “damage” when a shadow fell over his screen. He looked up
and blinked at the new arrival. “Oh, hi. Griffin, right?”

“Yeah.” The man seemed somewhat
uncomfortable, shuffling slightly on the sand. “Is Dunn here?”

For a moment, the knowledge of who this
man had been sent Ian’s brain into temporary vapor lock. “Uh, no. Can I help
you?”

Griffin scratched his head, grimacing a
bit. “I’d invited him over for a movie night, and I wanted to check on the
lineup with him. Then I realized I never got his mobile number. Do you have
it?”

Ian had no idea if Poseidon even owned a
cell phone. “Um, I think he said something about it being in the shop,” he
improvised. “He accidentally washed it or something.”

“Oh. Yeah, done that a few times,” Griffin
said ruefully. “Well, the next time you see him could you ask him to call me?”

“Sure, no problem.” Ian opened a text file
on his laptop and took down Griffin’s cell phone number. Only then did he
notice the beads of sweat on the Englishman’s forehead. “You look
kinda
warm. You want a beer?”

“God, yes,” Griffin said gratefully.

“Have a seat.” Ian closed his laptop and
set it on the low plastic table between the chairs, fishing out two cold brown
bottles from the cooler and passing one over. “Sorry. I know Englishmen don’t
drink their beer cold.”

“When it’s this hot we do,” Griffin said
with a short laugh, twisting off the cap. “Cheers.”

Ian saluted the other man with his own
bottle. “So I hear you and Dunn have been sailing?”

“Yes.” Griffin nodded at the dock where
his boat floated next to Ian’s. “I’m a bit under the weather right now, so I need
some help with the sails and such.”

“Well, if you need help with a boat, Dunn
is definitely your best choice,” Ian said, trying not to grin.

The other man made a noncommittal noise,
taking another sip of beer. “So what’s he like, then?” he said abruptly. “Personally,
I mean?”

Apart
from the fact that he’s the God of the Sea?
“Uh, well, he’s
By
and
Aph’s
dad, so I primarily know him through them,”
Ian said. “But he’s a good guy. A little stiff at times, but that’s just how he
is.” He tried for a casual tone. “Anything specific you want to know?”

Griffin hesitated, one finger tapping on
the side of his bottle. “No,” he said after a pause. “It’s just … well, he said
he’d be willing to help me go sailing any time I liked. It’s kind of odd,
y’know
? Especially since he doesn’t know me from Adam.”

“Did he tell you why he wanted to help?”

Griffin shifted a little, rubbing sweat
from his forehead. “He said he liked sailing and didn’t have much time for it,
which is generous and all. I just don’t like being a charity case.”

“Ha.” Ian waved his bottle. “Trust me,
you’re not. If anything, you’re helping him out by letting him come out with
you. He
really
needs to unwind a
little.”

“I noticed.” Griffin sighed, then drained
his bottle and dropped it into the bucket. “Well, I supposed I’d better haul
him out with me, then,” he said, getting to his feet. “If you do reach him
tonight, give him my number, yeah?”

“Will do.” Ian watched the man head back
to his cottage, noting the stiffness to his movements. He switched briefly to
godsight
, noting the Englishman’s pale, patchy aura shot
through with tones of grey and black.

Father-in-law,
I hope you know what you’re doing.

****

The
Seabird
raced over the lapis water, spray lifting on the breeze and disappearing in the
sunlit air.

Griffin sat at the tiller, sunglasses
firmly perched on his nose as he steered the sailboat
along the barrier islands. Each one had begun life as a sandbar, a
remnant of the shore cut off by the encroaching sea. Opportunistic seeds had
then taken root, forming a thick mat of vegetation that stabilized the sandbar
and turned it into a genuine island, albeit one that would be swamped during a
hurricane or even a strong storm. The bigger islands sported palms, loblolly
pines and other quick-growing trees. They waved gently in the breeze, a tan and
green fringe fanning the outer shoreline.

Dunn sat on the bench seat, studying a map
and the ship’s compass. The
Seabird
came equipped with modern positioning equipment, but the big redhead had made a
disgusted noise when Griffin pointed them out. “Electronic trash. One solid
gout of water in their guts and they’re useless,” Dunn said, sniffing. “Give me
a sextant and a compass any day.”

Griffin had grinned at the announcement
and left his first mate to the navigation. It was impossible to get too
terribly lost this close to the shoreline in any case, especially in good
weather.

Dunn lifted his head, strands of dark red
hair whipping around his face. “Keep on this heading,” he shouted. “We want the
third island after this one.”

“Aye, aye, Captain Bligh,” Griffin shouted
back amiably.

Dunn smirked at that, then turned and
stared out at the passing islands. When he’d shown up at Griffin’s cottage that
morning, he had mentioned a local island that had been turned into a small
marine wildlife reserve by some of the locals. “I’ve been told it’s something
of a hidden treasure. There’s a small inlet where we can anchor and go ashore
for a bit, as long as we don’t leave any trash behind.”

“Sounds like a plan to me,” Griffin had
said. For a moment he wished he could still dive. Strapping on a rebreather and
going down for a look at the local marine ecosystem would have been enjoyable,
especially if the surrounding waters were anything like Olympic Cove.