by Jayne Rylon
Miguel didn’t pay too much attention to the scheduling, but he knew they’d been without guests for at least a week. Banks seemed to give them, and the rest of the crew, a break now and then. Honestly, he didn’t really need time off to relax when his job guiding their special visitors was really more like fun than work.
Reluctantly, the three men removed their fins then climbed up the ladder. Miguel slipped off his mask and snorkel, dropped his regulator from his mouth, unsnapped his buoyancy control device, and swung his tank into one of the holders on the bench.
He peeled the top half of his wetsuit down to his waist then ran his fingers through his hair to try to tame it some as he joined the group.
Banks cleared his throat. “I wanted to speak with you boys to see if you’d consider accommodating an unusual request. I’d like to bring someone on for longer than the standard visit.”
“Why?” Archer wasn’t objecting, merely curious.
Miguel figured he’d let Banks do whatever he wanted. They trusted the guy. Owed him a hell of a lot. If he thought it was a good idea, they’d back him up. Make it happen.
“To conduct scientific research. Something too sensitive for the conservation arm of the Banks Foundation to handle. I’d feel better if we saw to it personally. It may also require us staying longer in the Hawaiian Islands than we’d originally planned. Perhaps for months instead of weeks, depending on how things go. Would that be okay?”
“I’m in no hurry to leave.” Tosin sighed as he stared around, looking equally dazed as Miguel had been earlier. He hadn’t always been so content. The stability of their new life had already made some big changes in Tosin. For the better. For the first time in the dozen years they’d known each other he seemed…secure. Looked over his shoulder less. Sometime soon, when they’d had the appropriate number of beers, Miguel thought he might ask what was up with that.
“We’ve got all the time in the world these days, don’t we?” Miguel added.
Archer hummed, brushing his thumb over Waverly’s knuckles. “As long as we’re together, I don’t care where we are.”
“Besides, it could be cool to check out Maui too. Take a few excursions on land. Spend time with humans other than you knuckleheads.” Miguel hoped they wouldn’t decipher his code for…find someone to fuck for more than a one-nighter.
From the pointed looks his friends shot him, he figured they’d seen right through him.
Ah well. He shrugged, acting as if it wasn’t a big deal. When Archer’s father had died, leaving him more money than there was water in the ocean, Archer had started to question their purpose in life. Wondered if they could do something more significant than survive as nomadic beach bums who partied with lonely women on vacation by night, making even their kinkiest fantasies come true.
Miguel had laughed the idea off.
Until he’d seen what life was like for his friend with his soul mate. Maybe it hadn’t been such a dumb question after all. Maybe his time here would give him a chance to do a test run at a real connection with a woman, something that went deeper than a night full of orgasms.
Banks cleared his throat. “Actually, Miguel, I was thinking maybe you could help our scientist out. She’s going to need a divemaster and possibly an assistant when she’s making her collection trips.”
“Huh?” That would put a hell of a damper on his plans. He plopped onto the wooden bench seat nearby. “Why not Tosin?”
“Because I think you might have an acquaintance in common with Dr. Reynolds.”
He tilted his head, suddenly uncomfortable with where this might be going. Especially since the scientist he’d have to babysit was a Dr. Reynolds, who was probably a gray-haired, spectacle-wearing scientist who would definitely disprove of his filthy missions. “Who do we both know?”
“Dr. Heinrich Geld.”
“No kidding?” Miguel perked up at that. “I met him a long time ago. Before I knew Tosin and Archer even. He hired me as support for one of his expeditions.”
“I heard.” Banks’s guarded smile put Miguel’s senses on high alert.
“So this woman works for Heinrich?” he asked. “Any chance we could invite him instead? I’d love to catch up with him. I think you’d like him, too. You two kind of remind me of each other in some ways.”
It’d be worth skipping out on his pussy hunt for that. He owed the guy a lot and would love to thank him for steering Miguel’s life in the right direction.
“Not exactly.” Banks sighed. “I’m sorry, Miguel. Dr. Geld was killed in an explosion at his laboratory last week.”
“No!” Miguel stood in a rush, jabbing his fingers into his wet hair before gripping the back of his skull. The man had been a freaking genius, and far too young to be done making contributions to the world through his work.
“I’m sorry.” Banks put his hand on Miguel’s shoulder and squeezed. Waverly did one better and rushed to his side, hugging him despite his soaked suit and damp chest.
“Ah, man. That sucks,” Tosin groaned as he and Archer shot Miguel sympathetic looks.
It took him a few minutes of staring at the waves to calm down. No one pressured him. They sat by his side as he got himself together.
“So this lady, she’s picking up where he left off?” He’d help out however he could to ensure Heinrich’s legacy was fulfilled.
Banks nodded. “Dr. Reynolds was his protégé. Highly respected in their field. I don’t know much more than this… He’d somehow found a way to use coral to fight cancer. His notes, and everything related to the project, were destroyed in the blast and subsequent fire.”
“Well, shouldn’t Dr. Reynolds know what they were up to? She could redo the study, recreate the experiment, right?” Tosin wondered. “Why does she need to be on a boat for that? Not that I mind.”
“It’s not that easy apparently.” Banks winced. “Dr. Reynolds was actually working on a grant in California. She has some correspondence with Dr. Geld and is piecing together what she can from the ruins of his lab. It doesn’t sound like much is salvageable. And apparently he’d been very secretive. Careful. All she knows for sure is the locations he’d been out collecting from before he returned to Germany to study his samples. She may need to retrace his footsteps and start from scratch. The last place he’d gone before returning to Germany ahead of schedule was Hawaii. Specifically, Molokini. So she and Heinrich’s wife, Marta, began scouring the area for any vessels that might be able to accommodate her for a while. Assist in her efforts.”
“We should do this.” Archer crossed his arms, spreading his legs as if prepared to battle for Dr. Reynolds. “I vote yes. Definitely”
Though the Divemaster had been part of his inheritance, he never acted like he was their boss, something Miguel appreciated beyond belief. As three dominant men, they’d learned to keep from pissing all over each other’s territory to keep their friendship intact. Besides, it wasn’t often they disagreed.
In this case they certainly didn’t.
“Me too.” Tosin nodded.
“Of course I’ll help,” Miguel responded when they turned to him.
“Good. You can start by picking her up from the airport.” Banks grinned then shrugged. “I knew you’d do the right thing.”
“Guess I’d better go get the helicopter ready.” Waverly didn’t bother to act put out when piloting was clearly her second favorite thing—next to fucking Archer—to do.
“I’m coming, too,” Archer insisted.
The man might never recover from the time he’d let Waverly fly solo and nearly lost her. Good thing they’d upgraded their chopper to a six-seater. Plenty of room for everyone.
Banks handed Miguel a folder, not unlike the one he’d prepared with contracts the day Archer had invited Miguel and Tosin aboard for the adventure of a lifetime. When he flipped it open, the first thing he noticed was a picture of Dr. Reynolds, who looked nothing like he’d imagined.
Whoa.
Far more hippie than nerd. Sabine Reyno
lds was willowy, natural, and gorgeous.
Sexy as fuck.
Suddenly his assignment was looking up. “Let’s go.”
He snapped the folder closed and strode off to his quarters for real clothes. If he chose the black shirt that inspired women to stare at his chest and the cargo shorts that hugged his package, emphasizing his best assets, who could blame him?
Three
Sabine spotted her suitcase on the revolving conveyor and marched over to intercept it. That’s what she intended anyway. Her ambitious intentions manifested as more of a swamp-monstery stomp. Only her passion to carry out Heinrich’s dream propelled her onward.
She’d flipped her internal clock upside down twice traveling from California to Germany then back through Amsterdam and L.A. to Hawaii. Spent two of the past five days in transit, and the three in between…well, they’d been horrific. Mental, emotional, and physical exhaustion plagued her after one of the worst weeks of her life.
It felt like losing her parents all over again.
More traumatic because she’d witnessed it. Slightly less awful because she’d been able to promise Marta and the rest of Heinrich’s loved ones that he hadn’t suffered.
Her zombified feet didn’t keep up with her mind’s directives, and she tripped.
Tucking and rolling to keep from smashing onto the luggage carousel and being dragged through those vinyl flaps separating the passenger terminal from God-knew-what airport underworld turned out to be unnecessary. Good thing, since her reaction time was disgraceful right then.
A strong arm came around her, steadying her. Then a deep voice with a sultry South American rumble asked, “That one with the rainbow stripes is yours?”
All she could do was nod dumbly.
Her savior steadied her then caught up to the bag with three long strides, hefting it from the infinite loop with one hand, even though it contained nearly all of her worldly belongings. Damn.
She might be tired, but she’d have to be cryogenically frozen like some of her samples not to obsess over guns like that or how they’d felt, however briefly, around her. Her hormones woke up and took notice.
Sabine subtly, she hoped, checked out the Good Samaritan as he returned with her suitcase in tow. The rest of him lived up to his sculpted biceps.
“Thanks.” She offered him a smile, hoping it held at least a hint of pretty beneath the mountain of haggard. The black circles she’d spotted under her eyes in the airport’s restroom a couple minutes ago or the gaunt jut of her cheekbones given her inability to eat while upset, made her doubt it.
When she attempted to take the bag from him, he held it out of her reach. “I’ve got this. Do you have any others?”
Sabine hesitated, unwilling to divulge too much to a stranger. An experienced traveler, she didn’t waste a lot of brainpower worrying about the possible nefarious intentions of her fellow human beings. The good, helpful people far outweighed the rest. Still, she was no idiot. It paid for a woman alone to be cautious.
Too bad her entire being screamed that she should cave in to unwise temptations and let a handsome stranger take care of her precisely when she could use his broad shoulder to lean on and his big dick to ride before passing out for a day or two of solid sleep. Well, that middle part was speculation, an informed guess based on the bulge in his shorts. She assumed he wasn’t storing extra socks or a taro root in there.
Apparently she’d stood still, staring and debating how to proceed, long enough to cross into the awkward zone.
“Oh, shit. Sorry.” He laughed, showing off a great smile—super white against his tan skin—and killer eyes like the turquoise water she’d flown over minutes ago. “I’m Miguel Torres. Your ride, kind of. Banks sent me to pick you up and take you to the Divemaster. I’ll also be helping you with your project as long as you need me.”
Well, hellllo, Miguel. She could certainly use him.
Sabine hadn’t yet decided if this was fate trying to make up for the pile of shit it had dumped on her or just another trap in a lovely package. A spectacular package more like it.
How the fuck was she supposed to concentrate with him hanging around? Miguel. Even his damn name sounded like pure sex when he said it in that sex-on-a-stick accent of his.
Sabine was no prude. She’d been called reckless by some, though she preferred to consider herself daring. Bold in every aspect of her life, she embraced her innate curiosity and was well-studied in animal behavior. Humans included. Sexuality intrigued her. She never hesitated to do some personal experimentation when the chance and chemistry presented itself. But if she’d ever needed to focus in her life, it was now.
Distractions weren’t welcome.
Especially not the six-foot-something, ripped, take-charge gentleman variety.
“Are you ready?” he asked when she still didn’t respond.
“Uh, yeah. Sorry.” She shook her head to clear it, triumphant when she saw his gaze tracking the swoosh of her hair whipping around her upper arms. Misery loved company and all that. “Rough couple of days. I’m running on fumes.”
“I can see that.” He tugged the straps of her backpack from her shoulders before she could stop him. Somehow she got the feeling he would have scooped her right up along with it if they hadn’t met half a second earlier. He was that kind of guy.
The type who took care of his own.
The type she’d never allowed herself to fall for, afraid that she might sacrifice some of her independence in exchange for his pleasure. The type who might consume her if she let him.
As though it had a single loaf of bread in it, he slung her backpack over one shoulder, grabbed her suitcase, and placed his free palm against her lower back, guiding her toward the automatic door. It opened onto tropical heat, which hit her like a shockwave and stole her breath.
Or was that the impact his touch had on her? Uh oh.
“Come on. It’s not far to the runway shuttle. Waverly and Archer are waiting for us at the helipad.” He matched his pace to hers though she was sure he could easily have had her trotting to keep up with his long, powerful legs.
“Archer Quartermane?” It shocked her that he’d come out to greet her personally. Surely he had better things to do with his time than fetch a lowly scientist from the airport. Hell, she hardly believed he’d agreed to have her onboard, despite rumors of his unimaginable generosity. Then again, Marta had used some personal contacts to get in touch with a man called Banks, who supposedly ran the entire foundation Archer had established, of which the Divemaster Project was only one small part.
“Uh, I guess. He doesn’t go by that name anymore, though.” Miguel paused for the first time. “We call him Archer Banks. Or just Archie if you prefer. He loves that.”
Yeah, right. Sabine wouldn’t be addressing the billionaire as anything informal until he gave her permission. Probably not even then. He was supplying a golden opportunity to bring Heinrich’s life work to fruition. She wouldn’t do anything to jeopardize it.
“Banks? Like his executive director?” She didn’t find that as weird as others might. “He must really love the guy to have named his charitable foundation, and even himself, in the man’s honor.”
“Sometimes families are made of the people you choose, not the ones you’re born with.” Shadows clouded Miguel’s striking eyes for the first time as he spoke words she couldn’t have agreed with more. She was sorry he’d had experiences similar enough to her own to allow him to relate.
“I understand that.” She blinked as she thought of Heinrich. And Marta. Poor Marta. Brokenhearted.
Sabine hoped that by completing the study, Marta’s loss might seem more worthwhile in some twisted way. Right now a hollow sort of ache occupied Sabine’s gut. It hadn’t been long enough for the authorities to finish their investigation into the circumstances behind the explosion. It could have been chemical. A deadly, accidental reaction.
Something completely innocent, though tragic.
Neither Sabine nor Mar
ta believed Heinrich would have been careless like that despite his recent preoccupation. Though law enforcement hadn’t found any evidence of outside involvement, she couldn’t shake her recollections of those horrible moments. She’d been sure she heard someone shouting in the background. Thought she’d seen a masked man.
Which meant someone had stolen him from them. Intentionally wreaked havoc on their family unit. That realization only steeled her resolve to make sure the people responsible didn’t get what they wanted—for Heinrich’s results to disappear with him. She wanted revenge for the agony rotting her gut.
It must have also been written on her face as they climbed onto the waiting mini bus.
“I’m very sorry about Dr. Geld,” Miguel murmured as he helped her sink into a seat and took the place next to her on the empty shuttle. Without hesitation, the driver headed off. Was this what it was like to be rich? It would be easy to get used to treatment like this, though she’d better not.
When she noticed the sincerity in Miguel’s warm eyes, she saw something there that surprised her. Pain that echoed her own. “Thank you. Did you know Heinrich?”
“Not nearly as well as you.” He held out his hand, palm up.
Sabine couldn’t say what made her do it, but she accepted. Placing her fingers between his, she allowed him to swallow her up in his protective grasp. Simple contact could have a drastic effect on an organism. Pheromones, pulse rate, adrenaline…natural chemistry could work wonders.
This was one of those times.
Grateful, she sagged, letting her head loll on the rest as relief replaced tension.
“Enough to know how inspiring he was. How decent and brilliant,” Miguel continued softly. “When I was twelve or so, I bailed from the orphanage I’d spent a few years in. It was safer on the streets of Rio and better still away from the city. So I made my way along the coast to Búzios. I was trying to figure out a way to survive on my own, fishing and catching whatever I could for food. Stealing some, digging through garbage at resorts, and hiding out. Until I realized tourists would pay me decent money to show them my secret places—the best beaches and hidden treasures I’d found while exploring the area on my own. I would swim with them out to exceptional spots on the reefs for some quick cash and sometimes snag a meal while I was out there.”
