How the dolphins sensed things went beyond human comprehension. All the more reason they had to be contained at the time of Max's attack. Hell, a couple of highly trained dolphins could provide more protection than a pack of police dogs. Even a lone trained Navy dolphin could protect a ship. Robin shuddered at the memory of a past exercise where one trained dolphin had rather forcefully prevented thirty Navy divers from reaching their intended target.
A dolphin powering by at thirty miles per hour sure disrupted the water and senses.
Definitely better to implement the attack without Lucy and Ethel on hand. Darcy Renshaw had provided the perfect opportunity with her impromptu dive offer.
The attempt to incapacitate the dolphins with tainted fish earlier in the week had only garnered a fifty-percent payoff. Apparently, Ethel had been on a diet.
Thank God Max hadn't located the tap before an alternative plan could be implemented. The guy was so damned close. Keagan's swim pattern now ran directly over the tap, even without a helpful nudge to place him in the position to justify eliminating the diver.
Too damned competent for his own good. Not that it would help today with a force of armed attackers against two tourist divers.
Robin dropped into a white deck lounger and readied to watch the sun set on Max Keagan and Darcy Renshaw's last day in Guam.
Chapter 9
Max stared out over the nose of the boat at the submerged plane wreckage he planned to explore with Darcy. Hell, he hadn't played tourist in...well, never. His and Eva's dives had always been work and training related. But Darcy would enjoy it, and he would enjoy watching Darcy enjoy herself.
His other plan to hang out on a sandbar had been stalled by her tight-lipped attitude. He'd wanted to talk, odd for him no doubt, but Crusty was right. Darcy needed closure for the time they'd spent together. He needed closure.
No luck.
The woman was surprisingly reticent today. He could pry information out from the steeliest sources, but couldn't bring himself to push her. She'd given him space. He'd do the same for her.
Heaven knew she deserved something more from him. Of course she would never know that he'd watched over her. She would likely deck him if she knew his real mission.
If ever a woman balked at being protected, it was Darcy. Not that she would ever know about his job. Or about the real Max.
But she could, a voice taunted. A dumb-ass voice that would lead him into a hellish repeat of the past. Better to exhaust their bodies with exercise. He needed to burn off restless energy, anyway.
Max cut the engine. "You ready, mermaid?"
"Mermaid?" Darcy snorted. "Try to be a little more PC, Doc."
"I stand corrected." He waited for her to send back a snappy response, anticipated it.
Darcy smiled and clammed up, her standard mode for the afternoon, then turned her back to him and gathered her dive gear.
What the hell was wrong with her today?
Shrugging off nagging unease, Max slipped into his own gear by instinct, tracking Darcy's every move to ensure she didn't misstep. Her NAVI and PADI diver certifications reassured him somewhat, but he was leaving nothing to chance when it came to this woman's safety.
With precision, she checked her pressure gauge, then slipped on the vest and tank. Weight belt next, she buckled it well clear of her vest so it could be popped off fast for an emergency rise.
Darcy spit in her mask, then swiped her finger around the seal to keep the mask from fogging up. Max grinned at the ritual. Yeah. She knew her stuff. No one had ever been able to explain why the spit-factor worked. It just did. One of life's great mysteries.
Like why opposites attract.
He pitched that thought overboard before it could tempt him.
Darcy strapped on her fins and slipped the regulator in her mouth. One more glance at her pressure gauge and she taste-tested the air.
She shot Max a thumbs-up, sat on the edge of the boat and fell over backward into the water. Following, he let the ocean swallow him with familiarity.
Lukewarm water. Sunshine streaming through. The roaring of the breathing, a Darth Vader, rushing-in-and-out sound.
Floating into sight, Darcy swept her arms by her sides in a siren welcome. Damn but she was gorgeous, a natural beauty that had nothing to do with makeup or artifice. A novelty for a man who lived with deception.
Max let the air out of his BC vest—buoyancy compensator—and began his descent. Sinking along with him, Darcy pinched her nose through the flexible mask to equalize the pressure.