Private Maneuvers

He could tell what two clicks from Lucy or a head bob from Ethel meant. Darcy, however, constantly defied logic, and he was the poorest candidate on the planet for dealing with things outside his factual realm.

He was right not to call her and to keep his distance from this woman who'd already been hurt enough. "Thanks for the heads-up, Baker, but you're off base. If you're done, I'm going to call it a night."

Max shoved to his feet and stomped the sand from his skin. Too bad the cutting nicks of shell shards and memories weren't as easily shaken free. And when Darcy left, he would be adding the slice of new regrets to the old.

Darcy shifted restlessly in the base dive shop as she waited for the attendant to bring her diving gear. She hitched a hip against the wooden counter in the sprawling hut and let her gaze wander to the window. The bay beyond the dirty panes tempted her as much as the man who called those waters his second home.

Two days and she would be leaving. Max had invited her to say goodbye to Lucy and Ethel. She understood well enough the goodbye was for him as well.

Her dog tags burned a reminder against her skin of his touch with every gentle sway when she walked. He could have his goodbye, but there wouldn't be any more chitchat with tempting glimpses into the real Max and playful afternoons with Lucy and Ethel.

He'd gone out of his way not to abuse her friendship the past weeks. Which made her want him all the more, damn his honorable soul and cute tush. She wanted a distraction but had found more than she'd bargained for or could handle. In a week she would be sitting in the Squadron Commander's office discussing her chances of shipping out to Cantou.

A rogue thought slapped over her like a wave tearing sand from beneath her feet. She'd accepted the possibility of dying in combat, but she'd never considered how it would affect anyone other than her family.

Max had already lost someone special to him. Was she? Special to him?

Sure it might be overconfident to think she could lure him in for something more. Yet if she did, how would he hold up under the stress of sending her off into danger? Because, damn it, she was not going to spend the rest of her career sitting on the sidelines.

Regret crept up and pricked at her like the sand crab scuttling across the gritty wooden floor to nibble her toes. This really was it for them.

Darcy nudged aside the nipping crab. She intended to make this a farewell to remember, while keeping them busy. No chitchat. Definitely no more touching. Part of her wanted to forgo the farewell altogether, but their time together the past weeks demanded a better end than that.

Darcy waited while the beach bum attendant swiped her credit card and tallied up the day's rental fee for dive gear. The young man with bleached-blond dreadlocks passed her her receipt while his mother scurried behind him in her magenta muumuu.

Flipping the pressure gauge in her hand, Darcy checked the reading for her tank. "Thanks for hooking me up with gear on such short notice."

"No problem, hon." The muumuu mama leaned past her son and over the counter, hoop earrings swaying. "You're not going alone, are you? Vinnie here can dive with you. He's always looking for ways to clock out early, right son?''

The guy was already rubbing zinc oxide on his nose.

"No need." Darcy hefted the gear onto her shoulder. "I'm meeting up with Doc Keagan."

"Good enough, then." The older woman angled back. "Enjoy the day."

"Bummer." Vinnie dropped the tube and whipped a boxed underwater camera off the display hook. "Here. Take one of these. It's on the house if you show me the pictures later."

"Deal." Darcy hitched her gear over her shoulder.

Jogging down the steps, she tore the wrapper off the camera and arced the garbage into the industrial-size trash bin. Her hand clenched around the camera. Apparently, she would be making her own stack of Kodak memories with Max after all.

A low drone hummed in the distance. Max steered the boat toward the dock. Toward her.

Her stomach pitched just before the scope of her vision broadened and she saw the second figure in the boat. Perry Griffin stood beside his boss. They must have penned the dolphins together.

Damn, but she'd become too well versed in Max's work habits the past weeks. The notion left her feeling more than a little uncomfortable. Of course, he had asked her to join him often enough. Some days it seemed the guy wouldn't let her out of his sight.

Max pulled up alongside the dock, eyeing the gear slung over Darcy's shoulder. "I thought we'd planned to meet at the pen."

Was that disappointment she heard in his voice. What a heady notion that he would miss her, too. "I changed my mind. Woman's prerogative and all that."

The boat bobbed and swayed as Perry made his way toward the back to tie off. He nodded to Darcy's gear. "Going somewhere?"

"I was hoping to, if Max is still free." She turned to him. "You said you weren't planning any dives today, just unpenning Lucy and Ethel. The waters are warm enough to dive in swimsuits. So I thought maybe you could show me some of the dive sites if you haven't timed out on underwater minutes yet..." She shrugged.

And if he had? There was a limit per day of how much time a body could stand the depths without succumbing to decompression sickness, the bends...or worse, an air bubble in the heart, a concern for her, as well, if she didn't give herself the proper time between a flight and diving. She prayed her plan for a no-talk day wouldn't be derailed.

She held her breath and waited.

Max turned to his assistant. "Perry, why don't you head on in? I'll join you later."

Darcy exhaled her relief.

His assistant tugged a stark white T-shirt over his head and tucked it into his navy swim trunks, a preppy antithesis of Max. "Sure, boss. We can review our data later. I need to give my wife a call, anyway." He leaped onto the dock and nodded to Darcy. "Take it easy, Darcy."

Darcy waited until Perry's thudding footsteps along the planked dock muffled onto the beach before turning to Max. "Wife? I didn't know he was married."

Max draped an arm along the steering wheel, his chest gleaming deep bronze in the late afternoon sun. "Going on eight years now."

"Wow. That's incredible. Kids?"

"Three." He frowned.

"Problem?" She edged closer to the dock. "If you don't want to go, just say so." Just her luck, the quiet guy would decide he finally wanted a lengthy chat. She needed her farewell. And she needed it uncomplicated.

Darcy dangled the underwater camera between two fingers. "I want us to say our goodbyes with style. Make a cool memory to commemorate a special friendship."

Max's eyes stayed pinned on her for the slap of four waves against he dock before he tipped his head to gesture her into the boat. "Sounds like a plan."

Since the man never said much, she took the sign for an all-out invitation and stepped gingerly onto the nose of side of the boat. Max reached to brace her, but she kept her feet sure this time.

Steady.

No wayward body brushes. She had her battle strategy for the day to forget Max Keagan and move on with her life and mission. If only she didn't want to explore his hidden secrets as much as his muscled chest.

A prospect more dangerous to her peace of mind than the next few hours with a half-naked Max.

Robin stood on the sunning deck of the VOQ, time clock punched for the workday, and watched the bay through binoculars from the higher vantage point. Keagan was nowhere in sight.

But out there. Somewhere.

Anticipation fired. Satisfaction wouldn't be far behind. Hours perhaps.

Through the binocular scope, Keagan's dolphins were making their displeasure known from their bay pen. Their clicking and squawks carried on the breeze as they powered through the clear water in frantic circles.

Did they somehow know the time had come for Keagan to die? Perhaps.

Robin lowered the binoculars and returned them to the case. If only Keagan were visible. What a rush to watch him thrash, try to protect his woman, then watch her die before he joined her.

The order had been given.

How the dolphins sensed things went beyond human comprehension. All the more reason they had to be contained at the time of Max's attack. Hell, a couple of highly trained dolphins could provide more protection than a pack of police dogs. Even a lone trained Navy dolphin could protect a ship. Robin shuddered at the memory of a past exercise where one trained dolphin had rather forcefully prevented thirty Navy divers from reaching their intended target.

A dolphin powering by at thirty miles per hour sure disrupted the water and senses.

Definitely better to implement the attack without Lucy and Ethel on hand. Darcy Renshaw had provided the perfect opportunity with her impromptu dive offer.

The attempt to incapacitate the dolphins with tainted fish earlier in the week had only garnered a fifty-percent payoff. Apparently, Ethel had been on a diet.

Thank God Max hadn't located the tap before an alternative plan could be implemented. The guy was so damned close. Keagan's swim pattern now ran directly over the tap, even without a helpful nudge to place him in the position to justify eliminating the diver.

Too damned competent for his own good. Not that it would help today with a force of armed attackers against two tourist divers.

Robin dropped into a white deck lounger and readied to watch the sun set on Max Keagan and Darcy Renshaw's last day in Guam.

Chapter 9

Max stared out over the nose of the boat at the submerged plane wreckage he planned to explore with Darcy. Hell, he hadn't played tourist in...well, never. His and Eva's dives had always been work and training related. But Darcy would enjoy it, and he would enjoy watching Darcy enjoy herself.

His other plan to hang out on a sandbar had been stalled by her tight-lipped attitude. He'd wanted to talk, odd for him no doubt, but Crusty was right. Darcy needed closure for the time they'd spent together. He needed closure.

No luck.

The woman was surprisingly reticent today. He could pry information out from the steeliest sources, but couldn't bring himself to push her. She'd given him space. He'd do the same for her.

Heaven knew she deserved something more from him. Of course she would never know that he'd watched over her. She would likely deck him if she knew his real mission.

If ever a woman balked at being protected, it was Darcy. Not that she would ever know about his job. Or about the real Max.

But she could, a voice taunted. A dumb-ass voice that would lead him into a hellish repeat of the past. Better to exhaust their bodies with exercise. He needed to burn off restless energy, anyway.

Max cut the engine. "You ready, mermaid?"

"Mermaid?" Darcy snorted. "Try to be a little more PC, Doc."

"I stand corrected." He waited for her to send back a snappy response, anticipated it.

Darcy smiled and clammed up, her standard mode for the afternoon, then turned her back to him and gathered her dive gear.

What the hell was wrong with her today?

Shrugging off nagging unease, Max slipped into his own gear by instinct, tracking Darcy's every move to ensure she didn't misstep. Her NAVI and PADI diver certifications reassured him somewhat, but he was leaving nothing to chance when it came to this woman's safety.

With precision, she checked her pressure gauge, then slipped on the vest and tank. Weight belt next, she buckled it well clear of her vest so it could be popped off fast for an emergency rise.

Darcy spit in her mask, then swiped her finger around the seal to keep the mask from fogging up. Max grinned at the ritual. Yeah. She knew her stuff. No one had ever been able to explain why the spit-factor worked. It just did. One of life's great mysteries.

Like why opposites attract.

He pitched that thought overboard before it could tempt him.

Darcy strapped on her fins and slipped the regulator in her mouth. One more glance at her pressure gauge and she taste-tested the air. ns class="adsbygoogle" style="display:block" data-ad-client="ca-pub-7451196230453695" data-ad-slot="9930101810" data-ad-format="auto" data-full-width-responsive="true">