Page 100 of Ship Outta Luck

Heat spreads through me and I squeeze my eyes shut, as though it will block out my sudden fantasy of the two of us, tangled together,goingat the same time.

Leaning backwards, I meet the cool embrace of the gulf waters instead.

Not that they’ll bank the heat in me.

CHAPTER

TWENTY-SEVEN

DEAN

June popsup a few feet off the boat, floating on her back, and I bite back a groan at the sight of her body. Tantalizing and wet, the straps of the scuba tanks amplifying her cleavage against the zipper of the wetsuit in a way that makes me want to forget about this damned mission.

Checking the tanks one last time, I test the air from the respirator. It isn’t stale. Everything is fine. Yet I can’t shake the feeling that something is off. That after last night, June finding this blip on the sonar fish finder was a little too easy. A little too convenient.

Could be a wild goose chase. Might be some unlucky fishing boat down there.

Or it could be the drugs, or the centuries-old shipwreck June seems to believe is waiting for her. The sun lashes against me, and I take a deep breath, the Marine Corps tattoo standing out against my skin.

I can’t believe I thought June was just like Fiona. June Legarde couldn’t be less like her. All they have in common istheir beauty, and even that is worlds apart. Fiona doesn’t hold a candle to June.

June is a dream of what could be. Brilliant, brave, her sheer determination and ambition… the total package.

“Are you coming with me, or are you going to stare all day?” June’s voice cuts through my reverie, her gleeful tone triggering another smile.

Biting down on the respirator, I splash overboard.

Bubbles wreath around me, and my eyes take a moment to adjust to the darker waters of the gulf. June’s legs dangle in front of me, and my hands stretch towards her, already wanting her close again. Her face appears, her dark hair already slipping loose and floating around her. She flashes me the okay symbol, which I return before catching her hand in mine.

The way it feels—her slender fingers entwined with mine, the current gently tugging our bodies, June’s eyes wide behind her mask—I wish I could hold onto it forever.

The mechanical sound of their breathing and the gentle slosh of saltwater act like a balm on my soul. It’s been too long since I’ve done this, dove without fear of what waited when I emerged.

We sink slowly, timing our descent. The boat shrinking as we swim, a shadow across the ocean floor. Schools of glittering silver fish swarm around us. Pressure on my fingers swings my attention to June, who points at something in the deeper, murkier waters.

A tell-tale fin appears, then vanishes back into the deeper water.

Adrenaline pumps through me, and June raises a hand to her head in the universal sign for shark.

Out here, in the gulf, it could be one of several varieties. Nurse sharks are fairly docile and would avoid us. Blacktips could get aggressive, as could the most likely candidate, the hammerhead.

Should’ve brought a harpoon. Just in case. The dive knife I nicked while she was in the cabin presses against my hip. It will have to be enough.

Still, it’s unlikely sharks will bother us. Next to me, June swims surely, and I allow myself another moment to drink in the sight of her, lithe limbs and soft curves. I stroke my thumb over the side of her hand and she flashes me another okay sign. This tension between us—when it breaks, it will leave us ragged and gasping for more.

I can’t wait.

Dappled sunlight colors the underwater world in light blues and aquas. More fish swim around us as we hit the seafloor, a sudden riot of colors. A brown and white striped grouper chugs along through the seagrass, startling a crab who hurries to get away from him. A school of black and white angelfish, a manta ray that wings away as fast as it can add to the wonder.

And then June tugs my hand, practically towing me behind in her sudden burst of speed.

Something looms ahead, casting a shadow on the sand and seagrass.

Tension winds my body tight, and I clench the respirator in my teeth. This is it. Either the narcotics are here and this gamble on my professor will pay off, or I’m screwed.

If it’s the latter? If there are no drugs and she is just a dead end?

I’m not sure I can bring myself to let her go.

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