Night Diver: A Novel (20 page)

Naked, he knelt between her legs and looked, simply looked at her stretched out beneath him. Her skin was luminous pearl dusted with tiny flecks of gold.

And she was a redhead everywhere.

“Your eyes,” she whispered. “So beautiful. Dragon.”

She reached for the proud male flesh jutting toward her, only to have him catch her hands and put them next to her head. He stilled her murmur of complaint with a soft kiss.

“My turn,” he said. “I’ve been wanting to do this since the first time I saw you.”

Before she could ask what he meant, she felt the tip of his tongue touch the freckles across her nose, cheekbones, the top of her shoulders, the slope of her breasts.

“Freckles,” she said breathlessly.

“My weakness,” he said. “They appear in such tasty places.”

His mouth roved up one arm, nibbled on tender flecks of color, then down the other.

“Tickles,” she said.

“Suffer. I have.”

She laughed, then gasped when his lips roved over the curves of one breast, then the other, never touching either sensitive tip. Her nipples pouted.

“You’re missing some,” she said, her voice husky.

“Really? Show me.”

He saw the flush that rose from her breasts to her forehead. Slowly she lowered one hand and touched her left nipple. “Here.” Her fingers moved to the right. “And . . . here.”

Holden lowered his head until his breath rushed over one stiffened nipple, making it harder still. He sucked it into his mouth with slow deliberation, tasting and enjoying each ridge and seam, sucking, pulling until her hips began writhing against him. He pinned her in place with his lower body, sweating with the force of his own need.

“Not finished yet,” he managed finally.

“Save some for dessert.”

He laughed and felt the tension within him both ease and increase. The urgency was still there, still clawing deep, yet he was held in check by the velvet ropes of her humor. He had had his share of sex, but he’d never wanted to play with a woman, to share laughter as well as passion.

“You’re going to be trouble,” he said, turning to her neglected nipple.

Whatever she had intended to say escaped as a needy cry when his mouth closed on her again, tongue rubbing, teeth just edgy enough to provide a balance to the rushing pleasure. By the time he released her, she didn’t have enough breath to argue.

Then he began kissing the freckles below her breasts, lingering, licking, nipping. His shadow beard was just rough enough to give contrast to his lips as he drifted lower and lower until suddenly she came off the sheet with a gasp.

“No freckles—there!”

“You sure?” he asked.

Then he sucked her clitoris between his teeth, rubbed it with his tongue, and felt her come apart. He gentled his touch, bringing her down even as his own need twisted into burning wires of hunger. Slowly, slowly, he licked her, nuzzled her, told her without words that she was beautiful to him.

“Dessert was exquisite,” he said, reaching for a condom in his pants pocket. “Now I’m ready for the main course.”

Through half-closed eyes she watched him put on the condom. “Next time I get to do that.”

“What?” he asked.

“Everything. I want . . .” Her voice unraveled when she felt him rocking into her, stretching her, filling her until all she could do was give and give and give until she had taken all of him.

She moved her hips in slow counterpart to his sexual dance, feeling both ravished and ravishing, until her breath was short and she felt his whole body tighten, rocking, pulsing deep within until she could take no more and came undone in her own shimmering rings of ecstasy. His body suddenly went slack over her, yet he held back enough of his weight that she could breathe.

“Don’t move,” Kate said, holding him.

“Not planning to,” he managed.

They held each other until their breath became the slow rhythm of an ocean’s measured caresses along the shore. And then they still held on, because peace was a bond as deep and as ancient as fire.

K
ATE TOWELED HER
hair dry and looked into the cloudy mirror nailed just above the wash basin. Her eyes looked back at her, turbulence and peace and wonder.

Does he feel this way?

She almost laughed at her own naive question. Holden was a man. All man. He enjoyed sex and made sure his partner did, too. A generous lover.

Savor it,
she told herself,
for as long as it lasts.

And that would be until her newly acquired lover destroyed an old family business.

One more thing I can’t control.

“You’re frowning,” Holden said from the doorway to the tiny bathroom, deciding she looked edible in her sleeveless tank top and shorts. He hoped to get her quite naked. Soon. “‘Let the lover be disgraceful, crazy, absentminded,’” he said in his deep voice. “‘Someone sober will worry about things going badly. Let the lover be.’”

The words shimmered in the red of the dying sun.

“Beautiful,” she said.
Like you.

“Rumi has kept me company on many a long night’s watch.”

“Rumi?”

“A Sufi mystic and poet.” Holden took the towel from her and began to gently rub water from her hair. “Rumi was also Pashtun, from what we’d call Afghanistan now.”

She met Holden’s eyes in the mirror and felt her heart take a slow, lazy spin. He wore only dark shorts. The rest was a breath-shortening expanse of golden brown skin tight over shifting muscles. She knew she should pull back, keep more of herself aloof, not chance the kind of pain she had felt at seventeen when the world had shattered and re-formed in nightmare.

I’m not seventeen anymore. I’m not terrified of darkness and storm and being alone. I’m not running away from something that is always in front of me no matter where I turn.

“‘Let the lover be,’” she repeated softly. “Do you think the world will?”

He smiled almost sadly. “Doubtful. That’s why you take what you can get for as long as you can keep it.”

“It won’t be long, will it?”

“That depends on the lovers.” He set aside the towel. “It was very, very good with you. I want more. Do you?”

Memories shivered over her. “Yes.”

The faint growl of his stomach in the silence made her smile.

“Then let’s fuel the machine,” he said, nipping lightly at her neck, “so it can run at full throttle again.”

While she made tea, he warmed up beans and rice. As he arranged fruit on a chipped plate, he asked, “Do you want the fish warmed?”

“Just put it on top of my rice and beans,” she said. “That should take the chill off it without giving it that cooked-too-much taste. Sweet tea or plain?”

“I’ll take sweet. I seem to be in need of calories, as if I’ve been diving.”

“Skin diving,” she said without thinking. Then she flushed as her words echoed in her mind.

He laughed softly and touched her hot cheek. “That I have. Some of the best work I’ve ever done, by the way, thanks to my thoughtful, thorough dive partner.”

She stirred sugar into the tea until her cheeks no longer felt hot.

They ate quietly, finishing off the leftovers and lingering over the fruit. Both of them accepted silence with the ease of people who didn’t need to talk in order to feel alive.

Finally she stood, stretched, and said, “I have to put in some time on the computer. Did Farnsworth leave anything on your phone?”

“Such as?”

“Whether the generator is running yet.”

Holden pulled his phone out of his cargo pants and pushed buttons. “Nothing about the generator. The light valuable goods shipped out a few hours ago. The new diver quit. He decided one day’s pay was enough to stay drunk for two or three. Your grandfather took the
Golden Bough
in to refuel, offload the unwilling diver, buy more cylinders for the dive mix, and secure a part for the generator. He’ll be anchored back on the dive site by now.”

“I bet Larry is headed for the dive bars or is already there,” Kate said, “trying to talk someone into working rather than drinking.”

“It won’t be easy, especially if word is out that the dive is cursed. Divers are a superstitious lot.”

She just shook her head. “Larry can’t seem to catch a break. At least Mingo and Luis are reliable.”

“How long have they been diving for Moon Rose Limited?”

“Let me check.” She got her computer and cleared a place for it at the little bar. Eyes narrowed, she scanned what work logs she had been able to put together. “They came on after the wreck was cleared of most of the overburden, so they’ve been here longer than any other diver but Larry.”

“Which makes them prime suspects in any theft.”
After Larry.

Her head snapped up. “Why?”

“They’ve been working the wreck from the moment the heavy lifting was done. They’ve kept at it despite rumors of a cursed dive. They could even be the ones who started the rumors just to keep away the competition.”

“I know Volkert’s a pig and can’t be counted on for much more than his next meal, but the digital files don’t show anything suspicious about any of the divers.”

“Files can be doctored,” Holden said calmly. “Sand and silt can be ‘accidentally’ kicked up, obscuring the view while the divers stash some small goods for retrieval after the dive is shut down. Really small goods can be smuggled ashore.”

“How?”

“I check the dive gear, but not body cavities.” He laughed. “The look on your face . . . Be grateful you’re not worrying about diamond miners in South Africa. Man is an extremely clever monkey.”

She started to say something, then simply shook her head. “Even if the divers are stuffing things up and down their wazoos, we have no way of proving it. In fact, unless you catch someone with the goods, there’s no proof at all.”

“Yes.”

“Then even if no one is stealing, you can’t prove that, either. But you can ruin Moon Rose Limited by simply saying that someone must be stealing, because not much has been recovered from what is historically believed to be a rich wreck.”

“Yes,” Holden said.
And Chatham is just the sort of prick who would do that. Far better to tar the Donnelly family than to get tarred himself for paying out good money to dive a dry wreck.

“We were screwed from the day Larry signed the contract,” she said.

We,
Holden thought.
After all these years away from it, she still identifies with the family business. Will I have a chance to convince her there could be an
us
before this whole bloody mess blows up?

“Now who’s frowning?” she asked.

“Was I?” He stood up and began methodically cleaning the dishes. “Must be all the spicy food. As for the rest, yes, it’s difficult to see any way for Larry to come out on the winning side of this game. I’m sorry, Kate.”

“It’s not your fault.”

The curve of his mouth was too unhappy to be called a smile. “That’s very adult of you. In truth, I’m both messenger and executioner. That would be hard for even an adult to accept.”

“You can’t know that for sure. There’s still time to dive, to find enough to please a reasonable man, enough to save Larry’s reputation.”

Holden didn’t want to be the one to quench the hope in her eyes by pointing out that possible and probable rarely had a bridge between them. “I hope you’re right.”

“You mean that, don’t you?”

“Yes.”

Relief made her a bit light-headed. She hadn’t known until that moment how much it meant to her that he was pulling for the dive’s success.

“Such a beautiful smile,” he said, coming over to her. “Thank you for believing me. I doubt that your brother would. Your grandfather certainly doesn’t.”

“They’re . . . frightened.”

“They have reason to be.”

She closed her eyes for an instant. “That’s why I trust you. You don’t avoid the hard truths or try to pretty them up.”

Holden gave her a long look. “Most people would dislike me for those very things.”

“I’ve spent too much of my life hiding from the truth of death. My parents died. I tried to save them. I failed. And then I ran.”

“Love,” he said softly, tracing the line of one cheekbone, “you were a child. Even if you had been an adult, you couldn’t have changed anything. Very likely something went wrong with your mother’s rebreather. She blacked out, lost the mouthpiece, and breathed water. Your father couldn’t get her to the surface in time to save her, but gave himself a fatal case of the bends trying. It’s a miracle you got him into the workboat at all. I’ve seen men convulse hard enough to pull muscle from bone.”

Tears stood in her eyes but she said nothing.

“Even if you had had a bariatric chamber aboard the
Golden Bough,
” Holden said, each word gentle, relentless, “you couldn’t have got him aboard in stormy seas alone and it would have been too late in any case. Air bubbles in the heart are quite fatal.”