he said warily.
“Like navy good or just marines good?” A hint of teasing flickered in her eyes. Caley Flynn may not be military but the navy coursed through her veins by birth.
“Good enough not to need a babysitter.”
She glanced around. “I’ll tell you what. Since you’ve been such a trooper today, and I need to run out to one of the dive sites anyway, I’ll let my team and interns know I’m leaving and we’ll check some longlines, make sure no turtles are caught. Then we’ll do a little diving before coming back to shore. It’s a place Mary Beth and I dived—a favorite spot of hers. Maybe someone who runs the excursions might know something or has seen her diving with someone other than me or an intern.”
Shep saluted. “Okay.”
After one last tour at the aquatic center, Caley rustled Shep up a scuba suit, gear and tank. She drove to the marina and led him to the center’s boat. “All aboard,” she teased.
Shep dropped his scuba gear next to Caley’s and shook his head. Not only was her tank hot pink but her flippers and scuba suit had an equally pink stripe running down them. The ultimate girlie-girl.
“I see you pooh-poohing my gear, solider. It’s not a crime to love to pink.”
She cranked the engine and brought the boat to life, then guided them from the mainland out to sea. He’d give her a pass on the pink gear since she handled the boat like a boss. Wind on his face, sun warming his back, Shep was once again impressed. The taste of salt coated his lips and he licked them as they continued farther out, the sandy beaches becoming nonexistent.
He picked up the tank again, inspected it. Severe pink. “It should be a crime,” he insisted.
She raised her sunglasses on her head and studied him. “Are you joking? I can’t tell.”
He hollered over the buzz of the motor. “Yes, I’m joking.”
She slowed the boat down and they floated toward a huge longline—Shep had fished this way a few times. Attached to the line were baited hooks. Probably after halibut or swordfish. Bright orange buoys marked the spots.
“Fisherman will probably be back in the morning.” She suited up below deck, then came back up. Looking perfect in pink. “Just gonna take a quick look. Make sure no turtles are caught on the hooks. I’ll be up in five, ten minutes.”
He almost balked at her diving alone, but she was an expert and he trusted her.
She sat on the edge of the boat, and fell backward, gracefully, into the water. Shep watched until her hot-pink tank disappeared. In about six minutes, she surfaced. “No turtles. Let’s ride out to Soldier’s Reef.”
Back in the boat, she zipped across the water, smooth as glass, and toward the artificial reef. “We’re two hundred yards from shore. Only going down about forty feet, but, man, just you wait. It’s awesome.” Her eyes lit up and she didn’t waste any time as she increased the throttle until they arrived to their diving destination. “Gonna moor the boat and we’re good.”
She took a line and tied it to the cleat of the deck, then passed the other end through the eyebolt of the pickup line on the buoy before securing it to the second cleat. Something about the professionalism and quick way she worked...she wasn’t just a girl with her nose inside a turtle shell all day. There was even more to Caley Flynn than Shep had realized, and he happened to like it all. Way too much.
“I guess we’ll chat with the charter boats that bring tourists out after we dive?” he asked.
“That’s the plan,” she said as she grabbed her mask. “They’re all out on tours anyway.”
“Hey, where are your glasses?” He hadn’t seen her without them once.
“Contacts. I hate wearing them but I haven’t gotten around to getting a prescription diving mask.” She shrugged. “Well, let’s get this party started. Not to sound like a brochure but you’re about to see a spectacular site. This whole reef was built from waste. Like pipes, army tanks and even a navy WWII aircraft carrier.”
“Sounds interesting.”
She nodded enthusiastically. “It was created as a memorial to those who serve our country.” Her voice softened as she sat on the edge of the boat, back facing the water. “Like you.”
“Then I’m ready to see it, Little Flynn.” If he continued to call her that, he might remember how completely off-limits she was. Shep pulled his mask over his face, inserting his mouthpiece. Over the boat he fell, then flipped onto his stomach and a whole new world opened up. Sunlight filtered into the underwater paradise. Murky but gorgeous. Masses of spiky coral jutted north from the reef. Thousands of tiny silver fish maneuvered in the water.
Caley held up the okay sign with her hand and he signaled back. She pointed and swam like a regal dolphin as he trailed. A spotted eagle ray scurried from the sandy surface, stirring up the ocean floor. Caley skimmed the creature with her fingers.
He marveled at the array of colors. Like a living rainbow underneath here. Banana yellow, ruby red, neon blue, orange. One sight after another.
But the brightest, most enticing sight was in black and hot pink.
And it was the one creature down here, or above, he wanted to study most but couldn’t. Caley Flynn was everything he admired and that astonished him. He wished he could protect her from all that she’d seen in the last twenty-four hours, help her keep her innocence in a dark world.
A burst of emotion he’d never experienced—couldn’t even put a name to—flooded his chest, and he resolved right here, right now that he’d do everything in his power, work tirelessly, to find out what happened to Mary Beth Whaling. A need greater than he’d ever experienced burrowed into his marrow. A need to come through for this woman.
No matter the cost.
Caley never tired of marine life. Silence except for the gentle sounds of air bubbles releasing. She reached down and felt the hose releasing oxygen from her tank to her mouthpiece. Still had sufficient tension. She kept an eye on Shep, studying him. Powerful legs. Powerful in general. Understanding dawned as to why Wilder had brought Shep into his team. He was a force to be reckoned with. A true soldier in every way. Caley admired the men and women in the military. Loved this reef dedicated to their honor. Seemed Shep did too.
He was admiring a barracuda with sharp teeth, nearly five feet long. Fierce. Seemed the fish and the solider studying him had something in common. She left him to his amusement as a goliath grouper swam around a crag revealing a green turtle nested in the crevice. She swam toward it, breaking up a school of bluish-green pompano, then reached the gentle creature, brushing her hand along its smooth carapace.
Carapace. Shepherd had been listening. Watching the tour. But it seemed as if he’d been preoccupied with something else too. Probably the case. But when he’d been able to relay what she’d said, it had sent a thrill through her. Her own family, while supportive, never listened with such attentiveness to her passion for marine life—for sea turtles.
She stroked the turtle again; it was probably hunting for root algae. Eat on, big guy. Eat on.
She breathed in. Huh. Short breath. Strange. She squeezed the hose again. Sufficient tension. She should have been given a full breath.
An odd sensation crept up her back.
She grabbed her pressure gauge. Twenty-thousand PSI. Plenty of pounds of pressure. So why the limited flow of oxygen?
She breathed in again, watching the gauge.
Another short breath. But even more frightening was the way the pressure dropped dramatically. How on earth?
Her heart lurched into her throat as