As she floated farther downward, Kat was alert enough to realize that the deep was also a dark place, hiding danger behind every shift of light. A foreign world where she didn’t really belong, no matter what she told herself.
It was a capsule of contradiction, mixed emotion.
Unfathomable.
The blue-green depths were beautifully eerie, lending to the welcome uneasiness. She loved everything about the water—the sounds, the legends, the freedom. Diving was a chance for tranquility, a chance to prove that she could beat the odds and conquer the heavy crush of bad memories, memories of a time when the ocean had almost beaten her.
Since the ama generally tried not to dive for longer than a minute—who needed hypoxia to end a diving career?—Kat paced herself.
Pulse fluttering, heightening her senses to giddiness, she cruised over to a rock where an oyster had been deposited. At about the sixty-second mark, she retrieved two more, then aimed her body toward the surface.
With a slight pop-splash, she broke the waterline, put the oysters into her barrel and took a second to recover while hanging on to the floating basket. Over the emcee’s droning speech, her breathing sang like a whistle. To the untrained ear, it was alarming, but her lungs and heart were the better for it.
Next to Kat, Yoko was hanging on to her own barrel and watching her.
As the announcer told the audience about how Kokichi Mikimoto, industry pioneer, had created the type of ama uniform they were now garbed in here at Neptune Point, Kat took another dive. Then, after that, two others.
On the last dive, fifteen seconds disappeared in a flow of growing peace and self-esteem. She held her breath, triumphing.
You’re beating the water again, she thought as she fetched her oysters. Every dive makes you stronger.
Focused on her task, Kat barely felt it when a hand levered down on her head.
In the back of her mind, she knew it was Yoko trying a new, more effective method of jarring Kat out of the way as she grabbed for the oysters that Kat was holding.
Yoko didn’t usually make bodily contact.
But…damn—damn! There was something about the pressure on her skull, the claustrophobic weight heaving her down.
As faint as the push was, its power roared over Kat like a storm wave, pinning her, mentally freezing her limbs into helpless stumps.
In slow time, she felt the oysters slip from her hand, felt Yoko pushing off her body in a lunge for the booty. As Kat instinctively opened her mouth, a bubble of treasured air escaped upward, lost to the water.
Panic bathed her, a terrible memory wiping over her eyes—the one from years ago, the one she fought with every dive: water, so gorgeous and deadly and blue as it sheened over her like a glass ceiling. Waves, ebbing, flowing, as Kat, who was only nine, lay on the bottom of the ocean, trapped by the undertow.
Debilitating fear. A few moments that seemed like hours.
But the horrific serenity was slashed wide open as the pressure of the tide spat her back out of the water, coughing, gripping for breath. Her dad had rushed to her side, helping her to expel the water from her lungs, carrying her to a threadbare towel where he dried her and whispered an urgent pep talk of recovery.
Now, as she remembered, she could feel the water seeping into her like a transfusion of cold blood. It became a part of her, almost like the sea hadn’t forgotten. She’d been stolen from the ocean once, and it was taking her back, wasn’t it? Taking her…
No. No it wasn’t.
With an explosion of energy, Kat frantically lashed out with her clawed fingers, blindly catching Yoko as she grabbed for the falling oysters.
Kat choked on a gasp of water, then, quickly shutting her mouth, latched on to Yoko’s arm. The other diver’s eyes widened under her mask, like they always did when she acted surprised that someone was freaking out about something she considered quite minor.
Breath…air…need…air…
Suddenly, the water was a trap, a box. Kat dug through it, trying to reach the surface, craving the open sky wavering beyond the flowing barrier.
Reach…up…air…
She burst upward with a screeching gasp, falling and hunching over her basket, wheezing. As she whipped off her mask, quivers wracked her limbs, and she tasted something sour in the back of her throat.
“—gift shop where you can see the luster and spell-binding splendor of the pearl,” said the deliriously perky emcee. “Thank you for the honor of your company.”
Applause leaked from an audience who couldn’t have seen the details of what had happened beneath the water, even though they could sure as hell see one majorly dazed ama now.
Weakly, Kat turned her head toward Yoko, who’d also surfaced, taken off her mask, and a second later, begun to swim madly for the boat.
Like that was going to get her away from Kat.
Anger took over, helping Kat to reach the deepest strengths in herself. When she caught up to Yoko, she made damned sure they were sheltered from the audience’s view.
Yoko only had time to hold up a palm in mercy. “I didn’t mean to—”
Kat surged through the water and clamped her hands against the boat, caging Yoko, her face only an inch away.
“You want to bully me?” Kat clenched her teeth.
The other woman closed her eyes.
“Then expect me to fight back.”
“You don’t take any guff, do you?” Duke said. His voice, which, imaginably, once had possessed the strength of a hero in a jungle safari film, was now thready—hardly the bark of a man who’d conquered the world.
It was later that day, and they were sitting in their half wet suits on the beach, their sticks—surfboards—abandoned right now even though the conditions offshore were perfect. The five-foot waves curled into barrels that Kat was yearning to pipe.
Duke’s smooth, bald head absorbed the early-September sunset. He’d been waiting for Kat on shore for his twice-a-week “lesson.” Even though he wouldn’t get around to catching anything today—he never did—Kat knew that Duke enjoyed watching her carve the waves more than anything else. They never talked about the fact that he was too unhealthy to be in the water. It was hard to admit, especially since the sixty-five-year-old’s hazel eyes still glittered with desperate vitality, the line of his jaw hinting at the wild adventurer he used to be.
But even shaken by his cancer, Duke still wanted to believe that he could climb mountains, surf and basically accomplish everything he wanted to before he died. And Kat never disagreed with him.
“Screw what happened with Yoko,” Kat said. “You’re not looking so hot today. Isn’t the new medication—?”
“It’s working fine, don’t worry. Been a harder day than most though.” His thin voice was wry, amused. “And let’s not ‘screw’ what happened with Yoko, Kat. Suddenly your livelihood is in question. Locker-room brawls with coworkers don’t go over well with most bosses.”
Kat shrugged. “It wasn’t a brawl, just an energetic talking-to. And, don’t worry, I’m only under review with pay for a few weeks. At least I’m not fired like Yoko.”
After Kat had offered her coworker a scathing crash course in manners, Yoko had once again emphasized that she hadn’t meant to hurt Kat, that she’d only wanted to make everyone see that she deserved to be in Kat’s lead position. Losing face in Yoko’s culture was a huge deal, which made Kat wonder why it didn’t matter so much to her, too.
Probably because her Japanese mom had died when she was only three. Probably because Kat hadn’t been raised to really have a culture since all ritual and ethnic identity had been erased when her mother had passed on. Her dad hadn’t been much on teaching her about any of that, either.
“I can give you a loan to keep you feeling secure in case you do get fired after this suspension,” Duke said, grinning. “Come on, you know I’m good for it.”
Temptation chewed at her. But…no. Her pride would eat her alive if she gave in.
“No more offers
, okay?” Kat said.
“All right, it’s rescinded.” Duke sighed and slumped over, arms on knees. “If I didn’t have a rule about getting persuasive with women, I’d…”
“Is that what they call it nowadays? ‘Getting persuasive’?”
They relaxed and laughed at her deft switch of topic. During all their beachside conversations, Duke had revealed that he wasn’t into dating, not since his wife had passed away years ago. Not since he’d sworn off that notorious party rep: the hard drinking and smoking, the womanizing, the decadence that had earned him the headline nickname of Ride-’em-Hard Playboy.
Actually, he’d told her he’d rather spend his time setting his world to rights instead of setting some poor woman up for heartbreak when his time ran out. Besides, he seemed perfectly happy hanging out with Kat. Somehow, she’d become the symbol of youth for Edward “Duke” Harrington III, a way for him to make up for everything he hadn’t made time to do, a reminder of healthy days wasted away. There were times when she also suspected that he felt normal with her, that he could forget all the billions of dollars he had in the bank and all the grief that went with it.
But…a loan from Duke? No way. She didn’t like the idea of owing anyone anything. She’d already gotten into enough trouble with credit-card companies but at least they were faceless. It’d be too uncomfortable knowing Duke had something to hold over her, friends or not.
“I’ll work the economics out,” Kat said, drawing in the sand with a forefinger. “I’ve been thinking of getting a second job anyway.”
“I’m sure I have an opening at one of my companies.”
She gave him an exasperated look. “And maybe one day I’ll get up enough cojones to take you up on a training offer.” Just as soon as she could convince herself that she could succeed in a world like his.
As if.
The mellow growl of waves rolling in and then fizzing to foam paused their conversation.
She was going to get herself on her own feet financially, even if she was just about broke right now. Hell, she’d been the one who’d naively accepted every credit card that’d been sent to her after she’d graduated from high school and gotten her first job at Mickey D’s. It’d been free money, right? Uh-huh. Now she had to take responsibility for her own stupidity. Anyway, she was used to being broke, having grown up in one of San Diego’s “upper hoods.” On the south side of the 8 freeway, she’d learned to live without frills under the care of a father who gambled too much, always leaving them scrambling.
“That chip on your shoulder is showing,” Duke said.
And it’s probably going to stay right where it is, she thought. It’s who I am, even if I try hard not to spit much slang or be that girl from the block.
“That chip gives me character,” she said, laughing.
“Yes, it does. You’ve got spark, Kat.” It was a mantra he used whenever she revealed her lack of self-confidence. His pale face was highlighted by the sunset, the waning light showing the lines of exhaustion, the tired fight of someone on his last leg home. “You’re the best, whether you know it or not.”
She nodded, throat suddenly tight. Figures that one of the only people who never made her feel out of place, one who actually made her think she could be more than she was, would be leaving her so soon after she found him.
A couple of regulars walked by, boards under their arms, wet suits halfway undone to their waists to reveal muscled, tanned chests. One, a brunet with pale eyes and a killer bod, jerked his chin at Kat with masculine nonchalance. Thrown off guard, she glanced at the picture she’d scribbled in the sand.
It didn’t resemble anything, the picture. Broken lines and squiggles. Kind of like the state of her life.
Silence roared at her, and she peeked up at Duke, who was staring at her with an unreadable softness in his gaze. He looked away then nodded toward the departing surfer.
“He wanted to say something to you.”
“Like what? Let’s get married?” Kat was all of a sudden uncomfortable. “Like that’s my style.”
“It could be if you’d stop hanging around with old men and get out there. Ever since Will…”
“Man, I am never telling you about my dating life again.” Maybe it’d been the way he’d said it or…Kat wasn’t sure. She just knew that the subject was unsettling, especially since he was right.
During the four months since he’d first seen her surfing and wandered right on up out of the clear blue sky and asked her to teach him, she’d made the mistake of telling him about her ex-boyfriend and all her non-romantic romances before. It was one of his “crusades,” to learn to ride waves, he’d said, not that he ever felt well enough to actually go out and catch one.
She’d accepted his explanation nevertheless, feeling a little greedy because he insisted on paying her for the lessons. Intuitively, she knew that denying him this obvious pleasure would take away the pleased gleam in his gaze, and she couldn’t do that. Instead, she listened to his exciting stories, marveling at the experiences of his healthier days, like exploring rain forests and living in unindustrialized countries to get “the next big idea” for his Trump-esque empire, which included everything from real estate to redeveloping businesses in corporate makeovers or something like that.
Kat had always wanted to learn more about his successes, and also to take his cue and experience life beyond her own neighborhood. So she’d accepted a lot of his more downscale invitations to tour his companies, to talk with marine biologists at UCSD, to learn.
And she was grateful. This kindhearted man had brought new meaning to her life. But she was also aware of her faint fear of disappointing him, of staying in the same rut just because it was easier.
“Even though you’re refusing everything,” Duke said, bringing her back to the moment, “I’ve been meaning to talk to you about a different proposition. Something for your education, Kat.”
Her education? “What?”
“Sharks. The ocean. Another opportunity for knowledge.”
She just stared at the optimistic, crazy sparkle in his watery eyes. His impetuous ideas, his never-ending mental youth, tugged at her. God, how she wanted to grow up to be like Duke—caring, giving, kept alive by joy and the refusal to accept defeat.
“I’m chartering a boat out to Isla de Guadalupe, off the coast of Baja California,” he said. “Cage-diving. A five-day trip. Hell, you’re basically on vacation while Neptune Point reviews what happened with Yoko anyway, right?”
“Yeah, but—”
Duke’s shaky sigh cut her off. Its world-weary tone spoke volumes. “It’d be a great experience.”
Closing her eyes, Kat tried to shut out the thought of how, these past few months, Duke had eased his way into the place of a father who’d died unexpectedly when she was eighteen. She would’ve given anything to have had time with him before he was gone, to have spent every waking second making that dying man happy.
Not for the first time, Kat wondered why Duke was being so kind to her. It was something that made her a little uncomfortable to mull over. They were friends, right? An older man and a younger woman could manage that. He’d never made any advances toward her and, truthfully, she dreaded having to face that kind of situation. All she knew was that most of Duke’s family had been distant until his recent illness, and she loved the thought of having a surrogate family like Duke for herself. Theirs was a symbiotic relationship—good for them both.
“I’m taking Chris, also,” Duke said. “He’s on a shark kick right now.”
His grandson and ward. An orphaned thirteen-year-old who looked at Kat like she was the end-all-be-all every time Duke brought him for a surfing lesson. He was one of Kat’s worst soft spots besides Duke.
“No fair.” Kat took some sand and playfully tossed it at her friend’s leg. “You know I can’t resist that kid.”
“Then pack up. We can get an expert from the Shark Study Institute on board, the finest gourmet food, spectacular staterooms—”
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br /> Tempting. God, it’d be so tempting if she could just tell herself that he was inviting her as a friend and nothing else. But then she thought of a trip to the middle of the ocean, surrounded by blue. Peace, danger. She thought of how her dad would’ve loved such an adventure with her, if he’d had the money or time for it.
In her mind’s eye, she saw him scooting out the front door, on the way to Viejas Casino. “I can’t go to the pool with you today, Kat,” he’d say. “See ya later though?”
Then she saw him the way she preferred: guiding her over the surface of the public pool as she floated on her back, the sun splashing over her face. “You’re a born water baby, Kat,” he’d say. “Like dad, like daughter.”
As the memory drifted off she tried to cling to it, but it just disintegrated, like all the possibilities between them.
Duke’s voice took the place of her father’s. “You want to go. I can tell.”
He was right. And since when was she going to let a little thing like discomfort get to her? “I guess I can deal with real life when I get back.”
“Good. Good. I like your attitude. But, for now, just have some fun, okay? You deserve it after your day.”
Shaking her head, she resigned herself to giving in.
Like it was a hard choice, she thought, going on a cruise to make Duke’s day. What a sacrifice.
Little did she know just how much of one it would turn out to be.
Chapter 2
At 8:00 a.m. on the day of the trip, Kat was the first in her party to board the M. Falcon, a 112-foot luxury sport-fishing-and-diving vessel complete with eight crew members, docked at Fisherman’s Landing.
A deckhand with brown dreadlocks named Larry carried her belongings while Hugh the steward led her to a stateroom decorated in mahogany, teak, brass and tasteful artwork depicting marine sunsets. There was a double lower berth for her to sleep on, her own head and shower, plus a color TV with a DVD player. He told her that they had a library complete with movies and books, too.
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