1
Zach Ellis jogged through the warm surf toward one of the camera crews. His heart jumped beneath his ribs and his breath came fast and choppy. He slowed when he reached the sand and turned to assess the waves curling in the distance.
“Great run.” Tucker came up beside Zach. They’d been surfing buddies since grade school, and Tucker had been with him on set for six months. “Looks wild out there.”
“A great start to the season.” Zach grinned. “It’s awesome.”
His entire life was awesome. He’d formed a soul bond with the sea before he’d reached kindergarten. Now, not only did he get to play and work with his soul mate every day, he got paid to do it. Some days were easier than others, more thrilling than others, but Zach saw every day in the ocean as a blessing.
Tucker flattened one hand at his forehead, squinting toward Maui’s sun where it hung low over the ocean. “You almost slid right into that rip.”
Zach watched the surface of the water swirl with the rip current. He ran his tongue across his bottom lip, taking in the sea salt. “I think we’ll need at least one more to grab enough footage for the editors.”
Pain ached in his shoulder, and Zach rolled out the joint.
“You hurtin’?” Tucker asked.
“Eh, fine. I just don’t heal like I used to.” But in truth, just the thought of paddling out to the waves again made him wince.
Tucker had been with him when Zach had taken a bad header into a monster pipeline and jammed his shoulder so hard, Zach thought he’d be short an appendage when he emerged from the chaos.
Bad things happened when humans tangled with the ocean while exhausted or injured. He had scars and nightmares to prove it. But he’d have a different kind of nightmare on his hands if he couldn’t provide enough footage for the series finale.
They watched the surf in comfortable silence before Tucker said, “I heard Watson and Rayburn are going to be at Mavericks.”
A twinge pinched Zach’s gut—adrenaline, competition, fear. The Mavericks competition in Half Moon Bay, California, would begin in just a month. He shouldn’t be pushing himself this hard if he wanted to heal his shoulder in time. Yet, if he didn’t push himself, he risked losing his shot at an already-precarious possible role on Hawaiian Heat.
“More fuckin’ diapers dirtying up the water.” He ran a hand through his wet hair only to find most of it gone. He’d had to cut it short to double the star, and he still didn’t feel quite like himself.
“We ain’t gettin’ any younger,” Tucker offered.
“Maybe not, but they ain’t gettin’ any smarter either.”
That made Tucker laugh, but they both knew Watson and Rayburn had the skill to blow Zach away in that competition if he wasn’t in prime condition.
“Let me take a look at what Shawn picked up.” Zach turned toward the cameraman closest to the shore and started that direction with Tucker by his side. Shawn was collaborating on the footage with the director. Ian Bellamy, the star Zach was doubling, also stood by, analyzing the playback screen—as if he knew enough about surfing to critique.
“There’s been more noise about Ian leaving the series,” Tucker said under his breath. “Mainstream noise. Rumblings all through the cast and crew.”
“Well, praise Kanaloa.”
The buzz of Ian’s discontent on the show was nothing new, but to be honest, Zach couldn’t tell one way or the other. The guy was always bitching about something, which puzzled the hell out of Zach. He’d been working toward picking up acting roles since he’d gotten his first stunt job with Renegades. He wouldn’t mind transitioning into stunt work full time—only he had no skills and his shoulder would keep him from the rigorous training it would take. He didn’t exactly qualify to work as a regular Renegade when his only specialty lay in surfing. And they couldn’t very well hire him often enough to keep him in board shorts and wax with so few surfing movies or television shows produced each year.
Being considered for a role of this magnitude was a leap toward the next step in his life. A sustainable next step. Like it or not, everyone aged. And while he liked to joke about the young guys swooping in on the surfing competitions, their talent couldn’t be ignored.
Approaching the crew, Zach looked at Shawn and asked, “What do you think?”
“You don’t have enough,” Ian answered. “You should have run that wave out another thirty seconds, and we’d be done. You could have dropped right into a backside on that A-frame.”
Zach forced a grin. “Says the man with his feet on the sand.”
“Not by choice,” Ian returned with a cocky, argumentative edge.
Zach was naturally easygoing. Hell, in the big picture, he was the luckiest fucker on earth. And he made a conscious effort to stay the happiest as well. But after working with this narcissistic, arrogant, negative Nelly for six months, his patience for Bellamy was wearing thin.
Zach stabbed his board into the sand and planted a hand on his hip. He wanted to tell Ian to shut the fuck up, but the director of the series was within earshot.
“Why are you still here?” he asked. “I thought you had somewhere to be right after you wrapped.”
“I want to talk to you about that.”
Which translated into Ian wanting a favor. Ian was all about Ian and only Ian. If he wanted to talk about anything, it was himself.
Zach wasn’t interested. He pointedly turned his gaze on Shawn and Keith, the cameraman and director, and repeated his question. “What do you think?”
Keith looked at Shawn. Shawn tipped his head back and forth, considering. “Another couple of minutes would give editing more material to work with.”
Josh Marx, Renegades risk manager, had been standing several yards away and now came forward. “There’s a pretty big rip out there. And the waves are getting choppy with the storm coming in.”
Josh was a good guy. Intense, but intelligent. He had the crazy ability to see everything at the same time. Nothing got past him if it dealt with Zach or
Zach’s safety. But when they were on break, Zach caught Josh eyeing the ocean now and then, his gaze distant. The sight always made Zach wonder if he’d miss competitive surfing the way Josh missed the SEALs.
Josh’s gaze lingered a millisecond too long on Zach’s shoulder before meeting his eyes. “Are you up for it?”
Zach acknowledged Josh’s concern by holding back his answer—as if he had a choice. Then nodded. “Let’s do it.”
Once they’d discussed how to get the shot and avoid the rip current, the camera crew picked up and started down the beach. When Tucker realized Zach wouldn’t be following right away, Tucker said, “I’ll catch you…” and he hiked a thumb over his shoulder, then followed the others.
Josh, on the other hand stayed put fifty feet away, as if standing sentinel. Which meant he wanted to talk to Zach about something too.
“What’s up?” Zach asked Ian, eager to get the talk out of the way and be done with the guy.
“I’ve got a deal for you.”
Zach laughed. “No, you have a deal for you. I’m only a means to your end. Just tell me what the hell you want.”
“The studio booked me for a party at the Outrigger tonight.”