Out Too Farr

by Stein, Andrea K.

  “No,” Alton said, a hint of a pout floating back through the radio.

  “Fortunately, I’m the captain, and I have an order for you,” Lindsay said, her voice grating.

  “What?”

  “Butt. Out.”

  * * *

  Lindsay finished off the ship’s log after she’d checked the water and fuel levels and then left to search for Rania. She couldn’t put off letting her know what their star passenger wanted.

  She found her up on the bow, checking the angle of the anchor rode coming out of the chain locker below decks. They both stood and gauged wind direction out of habit before Lindsay stated her business.

  “Sorry to put you in a tough spot, Rania, but Moj asked if you could take him to a good dive spot in the launch today,” Lindsay said apologetically.

  When Rania turned, her eyes said all Lindsay needed to know: Her engineer was as sloppy-in-lust as her passenger. Shit.

  * * *

  A thousand different emotions coursed through Rania in less than five minutes. She wanted to believe she could have a little fling with Moj without someone getting hurt or jeopardizing her job. In spite of her resolve to remain professional and level-headed, she couldn’t keep her fickle heart from leaping ahead to all the things she could do with Moj, alone all day in the launch.

  She wondered if Captain Lindsay knew what she was thinking, then realized that was a foregone conclusion when she noticed her boss’s signature eye roll.

  “You’re already hooked on him, aren’t you?” Lindsay said, adding a deep exhale to the eye roll.

  Shame swept over Rania, and she hung her head.

  “Yes, Captain. I’m so sorry. I’ll go below and pretend I have a headache. Chewy or Tommy can take him wherever he wants to go.”

  “You’re the only one aboard who’s familiar with safety procedures… and packs a mean jumpsuit full of weapons. And he requested you.”

  The engineer’s eyes perked up at her reprieve. “I promise he’ll enjoy his day without coming to harm. I can promise that.”

  “Well then, you better get to it, Chica,” Lindsay said.

  Her heart pounding, Rania raced below as if the top deck were on fire. She went over a checklist in her head: masks, snorkels, full-foot fins, dive vests, in case Moj wanted extra buoyancy, although she doubted he’d need one. The neoprene in the shorty dive suits she’d also stowed had a bit of its own buoyancy. The launch had plenty of lifejackets and other safety equipment, as well as its own ditch bag. She’d stay with the inflatable raft while he snorkeled just to make sure no one caught them by surprise.

  And then there was the waterproof Pelican case loaded with her BUG (Back-Up Gun) and a long gun, just in case. She didn’t anticipate any trouble in that part of the Indian Ocean, but better safe than full of regret. Her EDC (Every-Day Carry), the Sig she tucked safely into a custom, waterproof Kydex holster beneath her overalls and over her basic black bikini. Extra ammo she attached to her ankles with Velcro. Dive booties over her feet would look natural while she was at the wheel of the launch and serve to keep her powder dry.

  On her way to the stern launch locker, Rania noticed Moj, blissfully unaware of her preparations for a possible small war. As she passed the galley, she saw him debating with Alton the relative merits of oysters versus caviar.

  Once again she was struck by Moj’s handsome face. How could Cloude not be in love with him, despite what the man said?

  A sudden thought made Rania shiver. None of that mattered. Moj was hers and hers alone for the entire afternoon.

  * * *

  Rania rolled the inflatable launch out of the Bonnie Blue’s stern locker and held onto the bow line while she secured the rubber shore boat next to the hull. The launch was fitted with your oarlocks in case the outboard motor failed. Fenders all around ensured the mother ship’s pristine, dark blue finish would not sustain any scratches. She stood back, tested the wind on her face and checked the horizon for weather signs. Moj should have a perfect April day for viewing some of the awesome marine life in the Maldives.

  She couldn’t wait for him to see the wonders that lay beneath the Indian Ocean: striped butterfly fish, the bursts of orange that signaled clown trigger fish, the occasional clever, chameleon-like octopus, or maybe a humphead wrasse or manta ray if enough small bait fish were hanging around. And of course the endless shapes, colors, and forms of coral.

  She shaded her eyes from the intense morning sun and stared across the partially protected lagoon where they’d anchored the day before. She picked a safe path to open water by noting the shadowed areas where sand and coral pushed up into shallows. The crazy patterns of lagoons and channels throughout the atolls could go from thirty meters of depth to just a foot or two in seconds. At least the draft needed by the launch was minimal. She didn’t envy Captain Lindsay’s job, to make sure the Bonnie Blue made it to a safe anchorage with the Swan’s sixteen-foot clearance beneath the hull.

  Rania whirled at a soft tap on her shoulder. She turned to see Cloude, a huge-brimmed straw hat shading her eyes. The teen singer wore a barely-there bikini and teetered on scary-high wedge sandals. An open-front beach coverup blew back over her arms, making her look even younger than her years, whatever that might be.

  “It’s okay,” Cloude said, and grasped Rania by the shoulder while she tilted close to share a confidence. “We’re not really together. I’ve never seen him so into a woman. You should go for it.”

  She half-turned to leave and then added, “Don’t blow it.” The tall sliver of a girl-woman clattered back up an access ladder and disappeared onto the main deck.

  Stunned, Rania stared out to sea for a few minutes to process this latest news. Moj had been totally truthful when he told her he was a free man. Her heart did a little stutter, and she knew her locked-down emotions were in way more danger than she’d imagined. She had to tread carefully here.

  Halfway through packing the launch with everything they’d need to sustain them for a day of snorkeling, Rania looked up to see Moj and Alton, each hefting a handle on a bulging picnic basket.

  “What’s in that thing, and how many people are going on this trip?” Rania asked, pointing to the heavy wicker container.

  Moj shrugged. “You never know how hungry we’re gonna get out there. I fished a little in Tampa, but I wouldn’t bet on me catching anything. And there’s no way I can rub sticks together to start a fire. We gotta be ready for anything.”

  “And I’ve never let a crew starve yet,” Alton added. “You sure you don’t want a dozen potato chip cookies, just in case?”

  “Prob’ly not,” Moj said, and shook his head hard after a sideways look at Rania. When they finished setting the basket into the launch and the boat lowered a few inches into the water, Rania crossed her arms and gave them an “are you kidding me?” look.

  Lindsay came to see them off and eyed the overloaded picnic hamper.

  “Guess you won’t need a weight belt,” she added, and chuckled while pulling Alton up to the deck.

  Once level with the top lifelines, Lindsay turned and waved them off.

  “Thank God Tommy didn’t see all that food. He would’ve invited himself along,” she shouted.

  Rania let go the launch lines, and they drifted off toward adventure. Moj moved close while she started the motor and curved the craft slowly toward the channel leading to the underwater nirvana lying in the middle of the atolls south of Malé.

  As she drove the boat, she smiled a little self-satisfied smile. She was going to take that fine man down, and he would enjoy every minute.

  * * *

  Bert’s aging power catamaran waited within the dive area, merging with a number of live-aboard dive boats anchored off Velassaru.

  Vikram still simmered with anger at the ridiculous mooring fee the nearby resort had charged them. Two-hundred USD for the night. Although he’d rather pay for a mooring ball than drift aground in the dark. These damned atolls were a nightmare for anchoring. Shifting sand b
ottoms and coral heads lurked everywhere.

  Bert, standing on one of the forward fins, put down his high-powered binoculars and then re-focused them closer to his eyes.

  Vikram, ever vigilant, noticed and yelled at him.

  “What do you see?”

  “Not sure. I’m thinking that chick down the way doesn’t have anything on but a towel around her waist. What do you think, Wally?” As Bert handed the binoculars to his sidekick and they did their stupid high-five thing, Vikram had to stifle a sudden urge to push both of them overboard and take off.

  Instead, he strode forward and snatched the binoculars from Wally to look at a good-sized inflatable shore launch cruising through the small dive anchorage. The boat was headed out to a more remote region of the Maldives, away from the other dive boats and the Bonnie Blue herself. Vikram had researched the Swan as well as Captain Lindsay Fisher and knew she wasn’t nearby.

  Vikram adjusted the binocs. Bingo. The woman at the wheel of the launch was the raven-haired, dark-eyed engineer, a knockout for sure, but it was her passenger who got Vikram’s heart pumping: a tall, massively muscled black man. It could only be Moj. The pair went full throttle past the island.

  Vikram’s finger shook as he pointed toward the speeding launch.

  “There goes Moj — with nothing but a weak woman to protect him. Get us off this mooring line and follow that boat,” he said, his words punching the air like gunshots.

  CHAPTER SEVEN

  Moj sat behind Rania while she stood at the wheel of the inflatable shore launch and threaded her way through a gaggle of live-aboard dive cruise ships anchored throughout the North Malé atoll. Her posture reflected strength, and her hands kept a firm, effortless grip on the helm. They soon left the other ships behind.

  She slowed for each shallow area where coral poked above the surface, sometimes just drifting by in neutral. Her long black hair was secured in a ponytail looped through the clasp of a long-billed fishing hat. From her white utility overalls to the dive booties covering her feet, she radiated no-nonsense professionalism. The sound of the huge outboard motor made conversation difficult, so Moj leaned back to enjoy the view.

  He couldn’t decide what turned him on more: the mysterious black Pelican case she’d carried aboard or the bulging picnic basket Alton had packed. There must be some smoked salmon with his name on it in there, but first he’d see if Rania was hungry, too.

  He moved closer to where she stood at the wheel and breathed in her scent, a mixture of cinnamon and sandalwood. The vision of smoked salmon flew out of his head.

  Moj gave her back and shoulders a light massage before bending down and whispering into one of her ears, “Slow down.” She complied and when she turned, their lips were dangerously close. He drew back as if burned.

  “Do you want to stop here?” she asked, checking her hand-held GPS device. “If not, I can find you a little more secluded area to snorkel if we keep heading south a bit.”

  She seemed not to have noticed the heat that flashed between them when they’d avoided the near-kiss. Damn, was he losing his touch? Or his mind?

  “You’re right,” he said. “Let’s keep going and find a quiet place to have lunch before I suit up to snorkel.”

  Rania gave the depth-finder a quick look and then sped up again. “The best snorkeling spots are above reefs where they drop off from a beach. I think I’ll angle down into the Ari atoll and find an island without a resort where we won’t get run off if we anchor.”

  “How did you learn all this?” Moj asked, shaking his head.

  She turned a radiant smile on him that blew all thought out of his head.

  “I worked as a stew on a lot of yachts when I first went to sea. We were always looking for secluded places to give our guests a romantic beach party experience. It’s complicated here, because there are hundreds of little islands, but I have a good sense of direction. This atoll was always a popular area, because it’s close to Malé.”

  “You know where you are just by sight?” he asked, his jaw dropping.

  She laughed. “Whenever we found a good place, I’d put it into memory in my personal GPS.” Rania gave him her hand-held device.

  He stared down at the name, “Romantic Hideaway.”

  “So, I guess you use these ‘hideaways’ a lot?” he asked, hating the jealous tone that crept into his voice.

  She wrinkled her nose without answering and curved in toward a tiny palm-topped gem surrounded by turquoise waters lapping at sugary sand.

  Heaven, Moj thought. Heaven. He gave silent thanks to whatever deity had gifted him with this perfect day and luscious woman.

  * * *

  When they neared the pristine beach, Rania pulled up the outboard motor and gave Moj one of the wood paddles. They drifted in on oar power until she scrambled ashore with a long line to find a strong palm tree for tying off. She removed her dive booties and stashed her ammo in two overall pockets before rolling up the legs of her overalls. She walked the launch’s small anchor out a short way from the beach to plunk it into the water.

  “That way the wind won’t blow the launch around,” she said, in explanation to Moj’s puzzled look. “Come on. Jump in and help me with this picnic basket. It’s heavy enough to feed Jabba the Hut for a month.”

  Moj climbed out of the beached launch and picked up one handle while she took the other. They lugged the feast far enough up to avoid the waves and then both sank into the shaded sand beneath the palm trees.

  “We’re certainly earning our lunch,” she said, and then stood suddenly, shading her eyes with one hand.

  “What is it?” Moj asked.

  “Nothing, really,” she said. “Just a dive boat, probably from one of the resorts. They were behind us for a while and now they’re anchored out there a few miles in the middle channel, away from the shallows of the atoll.”

  He came close and enclosed both of her hands inside his. “Let’s not worry about the rest of the world. Let’s just pretend there’s only you and me, Baby.”

  Rania closed her eyes and inhaled his scent of sweat mixed with something citrus. On impulse, she licked his chest, tasting the salt of him and the sea. Once again, she marveled at how she lost control when she was around him.

  Moj didn’t seem to mind. He gave a little moan and said, “I think we need to get you out of this.” He pulled the overall straps over her shoulders and pushed her coverup down into a pile at her ankles. Rania stepped out of her overalls and stood before him in nothing but the little black bikini… and the Kydex holster at her hips cradling the Sig.

  His eyes made an appreciative trip from her face to the small black triangles covering her breasts, to the barely-there thong. When he finally registered the holstered Sig, he shouted, “What the hell?”

  “I can explain,” she said, and brushed her fingers over his mouth before he could complain. “Part of my job is to protect you, and I’m good at this. You have to trust me.”

  “Do you always come armed to the teeth on the first date?” he asked, frowning.

  “First of all, I didn’t know this was a date.” Rania couldn’t hide a smile with that little fib. “And second, no, I don’t normally arm myself on dates. I make an exception only when I’m protecting the rich and famous.”

  When the frown on his face threatened to wreck her plans, she reached down and opened the lid on the picnic basket. Bending over in a bikini never failed to get a man’s full attention. She whipped out the blanket on top of Alton’s goodies and motioned for Moj to help her spread it out under the trees. His good-natured grin had magically reappeared.

  “We’re going to eat the oysters first,” she said, and handed him the iced container along with bowls of lemons and what Alton called his “secret hot sauce.” After they’d arranged all the picnic items, including something chocolate and decadent, they sat cross-legged, side by side, to dig into the feast.

  Rania insisted on serving Moj some of each of the delicacies. She arranged lemon slices o
n a plate with the oysters. While she mounded caviar on a cracker, Moj opened one of the chilled bottles of Champagne that Alton had tucked down the sides of the basket. When he poured the bubbly liquid into her glass, the contents fizzed over and dropped between her breasts.

  She looked up, her mouth in an “O.” He brushed her lips with a kiss and then moved lower, sucking the Champagne from where the cold liquid had pooled between her breasts.

  “I’m sorry,” he said, and sat back on the blanket with a thump. “I couldn’t stop. You are everything warm and sexy a man could want. That Champagne went where my mind has been wandering ever since I saw you at the concert.”

  Rania said nothing, but instead pulled one of the chocolate-dipped half-bananas from the cooler. She crawled steadily across the blanket until they were face to face. “Let me sit on your lap,” she said.

  Moj reached for her hips.

  “No touching,” she said. “Not until I say so.”

  He reclined back onto his hands and let out a deep breath.

  She stretched her long legs to the sides of his hips and then scooted close. She took the frozen treat all the way into her mouth, then pulled the fruit out slowly, sucking hard all the way. After she tortured him with a few licks around the top, Moj roughly pulled the banana pop from her and ate the rest.

  She gave him a lazy smile and clenched her legs slightly around his hips. “What’s the matter? Were you afraid I wouldn’t share?”

  “What are you trying to do?” he demanded.

  “I’m not trying anything,” she said simply. “All I want is to make slow, beautiful love to you.”

  “You mean you want to have sex out here?” he asked, throwing his arms wide.

  “No,” she answered patiently. “I want to make love to you, just sweet, slow love. The sex may come later. Maybe not.” She shrugged. “For now, I just want to enjoy the look and feel of you when I make you happy.”

  “Well I know someone who’s happy,” he said, and adjusted his swim trunks. “But before you make any more moves, I need some oysters.”