Page 75 of Risky Desires

The ocean wrapped around me, and as I flanked Indiana’s side, I kept my breathing steady and adjusted the pressure in my ears well before they started to sting. She glanced my way often, and I was surprised when her subtle nods of approval filled me with a sense of pride.

I wanted to impress her. No, it was more than that. I needed to.

Indiana was commanding my attention more than the criminal cases I was investigating, and that was messing with my mind. I wanted to know a hell of a lot more about the sexy salvage expert, but I had learned the hard way that getting involved with the woman I was protecting was a bad idea.

Halfway toward the bottom, Indiana pulled her flashlight from her vest, and I did the same from mine. With our beams lighting the way, we swam through a school of silver fish and their scales glinted in the lights like tin foil.

The plane’s narrow, white carcass materialized in the murky depths amongst a field of colorful coral and sea plants. I searched the outer shell for emblems to indicate the airline, but I couldn’t see anything yet. Even the tail was devoid of markings, which was unusual and proved that the aircraft was a private plane.

I scanned the surroundings for the wings but couldn’t see them anywhere. Maybe they were sheared off midair or were taken away by the current. But the chunky floats attached to the side of the plane confirmed it was a seaplane. That was an interesting piece of intel that may help us track down the owner of the plane.

I pointed toward the cockpit, and we adjusted our direction. The way the algae and barnacles had etched themselves into the metal was eerily similar to the amount of growth on Chui’s sunken yacht.

Had this plane crashed around the same time that Chui’s yacht sank?

That would be a coincidence I would need to investigate.

We swam along the battered fuselage to the cockpit. Hovering outside the broken glass, we shone our lights inside, and tiny fish darted in every direction.

In the pilot’s seat sat a skeleton.

Son of a bitch!

Indiana’s muffled cry reached me, and as an explosion of bubbles erupted from her mouthpiece, she reached for my hand.

I squeezed her palm to mine and turned her face toward me. Through her mask, terror flared in the whites of her eyes. I squeezed her hand harder and wished I could do more.

I indicated okay, and as she signed back that she was, she released my grip. Pissed off that I hadn’t considered potential bodies inside, I hand-signed to her that she could turn around, but she shook her head.

Damn, she’s stubborn.

Yet I didn’t expect anything different from her.

Returning my attention to the skeleton, I guided my light beam over his decaying clothing, hoping there was an insignia on his shirt or something that would give a clue to his identity.

My breath hitched.

A bullet hole was in the middle of his shirt. Based on its position, I doubted he was alive when the plane crashed into the ocean.

Indiana touched my arm and indicated to her watch.

I nodded and motioned for her to follow me into the plane. Leading the way along the plane’s fuselage, I was surprised to find the entrance door was missing.

Had that door come off in the crash? If so, had it already been open?

Maybe someone jumped out before the plane hit the water?

Adjusting my buoyancy so I didn’t hit the roof, I swam into the cramped space and headed for the cockpit. I searched the pilot’s pockets for a wallet, but they were empty. No wallet. No cash. No keys. Nothing.

I scanned the cockpit for a weapon but also found nothing.

Someone murdered the pilot.

The question was, did the killer also die in the crash?

My heart pounded against my ribcage. This plane had to be connected to Chui somehow.

Maybe it was involved in his drug running.

---