Chapter 29
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Focus on the mission. Focus. On. The. Mission.
Aria tunes into my energy immediately. “Is everything okay?”
No. Everything is a fucking disaster. But that seems to be the M.O. in Vandemora, so it’s no surprise.
I take the map from her hand and stare down at the lines. Maps have always been my solace, but right now, the image blurs as Aria’s proximity punctures my normally impenetrable forcefield. “Fine. Are you ready to get geared up?”
“Yeah, just look over Griff’s gear. It should all fit you fine.”
I turn my back to her and go through the equipment. Griffon Kane is damn near exactly my same size. It still doesn’t mean I like diving in someone else’s gear.
But it is what it is. There’s no time to be a whiney ass about it. If there’s one thing I learned in the Teams it's to adapt and move forward.
“Everything looks good.” I stand up and jerk my shirt off.
Behind me Aria sucks air. “Oh, I didn’t realize you were going to… um…”
Shit. Twisting at the waist, I look back at her.
Suddenly quiet, she presses her hand to her mouth as she looks at me.
I doubt she saw the scars on my ribs, but I turn my back to her quickly anyway as I kick my boots off with more force than needed. “You knew I was getting undressed. You don’t expect me to wear my clothes under my wetsuit?”
Her voice is distant when she replies. “Of course not. I just didn’t expect to see you—” she clears her throat. “Naked.”
“Wasn’t naked.”
The air pulses with her unease.
Finally, she says, “You know what I mean. I didn’t know you were going to just rip your shirt off.”
Fucking hell.
My hands fall still on my cargo pants. I got so wrapped up in Aria, I forgot about my damned scars. Some people are upset by old wounds. Which is why no one sees mine.
“Are you looking now?”
“No,” she squeaks.
I rip open the button and jerk down the zipper, facing away from her. The scars on my legs are a whole different nightmare. Something she’ll never see.
Anger pulses along my nerves as I toss the cargos and my boxer briefs onto the tarp, and pull on the legs of the wetsuit one by one. Behind me, the rustle of clothing and little sound of exertion remind me that Aria’s doing the same.
My cock starts to wake up which just makes me even angrier. How can I be this fucked up?
But all I can think about is whether she’s wearing a swimsuit beneath her wetsuit, or going naked.
If she’s getting completely undressed, someone could see her.
My head snaps up and I scan the hillside. “Aria, where’s Rory?”
There’s no one in sight. I exhale sharply, puzzling at the possessive feeling tightening my lungs.
She murmurs, “Bringing the tanks down.”
I finish pulling on the tight sleeves and adjust the neck of Griff Kane’s wetsuit and turn around just in time to catch sight of a bare shoulder.
No strap. No bra. Definitely no swimsuit. Just smooth bare skin.
Before I realize it, Rory’s sliding into the tent carrying two sets of tanks. He glances at my face, then at Aria.
With one shake of his head, he sums every single thing about this situation up. I’m screwed.
“Okay, I’m dressed.” Her delicate voice glides into my ear and tightens my pressed lips into a fused line.
When Aria whirls around to find me staring, she freezes.
“Oh,” she says quietly. “You were fast.”
I snap myself in line and start strapping on a dive knife. “Let’s get this done.”
She eyes me suspiciously. “Are you sure you’re okay with this? ”
“Diving?”
That’s when I see a shiver wrack her body. Voice full of worry, she says, “Yes. The water’s going to be super murky. It’s going to be challenging. I don’t think it will take us long, but it’s going to be stressful.”
I check both sets of tanks and lift her gear so she can slide it on. When she turns around to look at me, it hits me—I don’t want her diving.
No, it’s not diving. It’s specifically going into the dangerous cave.
If we were on a wreck dive in beautiful Caribbean waters, I’d be all about it.
“Scout…” She steps cautiously toward me. “What’s that look on your face?”
“This is me trying to figure out if Justice can fit in your gear.”
“What?” Aria crinkles her nose. “Why?”
“Because I don’t want you?—”
Anger flashes in her pretty brown eyes, turning them hard. “Oh no. Not you. You’re not going to be one of those men that says I’m not a good diver because I’m a woman.”
Before I realize what I’m doing, I tug her toward me by the straps of her gear. “This has nothing to do with you being a woman.”
Okay, it has everything to do with her being a woman. The one I want to protect. The same fucking woman that’s making me a dangerous liability.
Face tilted up, she inspects my face. “What then?”
“I want you safe.”
Her pretty eyes soften again. Just like they did before and my body reacts the same way.
The harsh glow inside me eases, but a new fire tunnels through me.
With a sharp shake of her head, she tugs out of my hold. “Let’s go. We’ve got each other’s backs. We’ve got a job to do.”
God. This woman.
What the hell am I going to do?