8. Garrett
Garrett
The Zodiac surged away from the polar research ship.
The moment the driver of the Zodiac opened the throttle, the small rubber boat settled backward under the force, with its bow pitched high and its stern riding low.
Every muscle in my body went rigid. I had been assigned a seat at the stern.
I wrapped both gloved hands around the rigid tube on either side of me, holding on for dear life.
I had forgotten this part. I had been on a Zodiac years before, but I no longer remembered how small and fast they were or how low they sat in the water. The thing rode barely above the surface. That sense of exposure had faded from my memory.
Cold spray feathered over the side. Only a few droplets reached me, striking my cheek and speckling the front of my bright red life jacket, but they were cold enough to sting.
I tightened my grip and glanced warily at the Antarctic water streaming past only inches below my elbow—close enough that I could have leaned over and dragged my fingertips through it.
I knew why scientists loved the damned contraptions. They could work at water level instead of peering down from the deck of a proper vessel. They could move between drifting pieces of ice, get close to a dozing seal, and if they had to dive, they could just flip over the side of the boat.
I turned carefully and looked behind. The second Zodiac followed several yards back, carving through our wake. Dexter sat among the scientists aboard it, bundled in his gear and grinning widely.
The second he saw me looking, he flung one arm into the air and started waving with an enthusiasm that I thought bordered on insanity. I looked down at my hands.
No.
Absolutely not.
I was not releasing my hold on the boat for the sake of brotherly affection. I pulled my mouth into what I hoped passed for a smile, gave him the smallest nod I could manage, and turned back toward the bow before he expected anything more ambitious.
I wasn’t terrified. Not really. I simply had no intention of releasing either hand unless somebody gave me a direct order, and even then I planned to question the wisdom of it.
At the motor, the driver steered us farther from the ship and braced easily against the movement as though handling the Zodiac were no more troublesome than riding a horse across the ranch.
There were four of us aboard: the crewman at the motor, Braddock, his crewmate and diver Keith, and me.
Braddock and Keith stood in the middle of the boat with their feet planted wide, completely at ease with the way the Zodiac climbed, dipped, and slapped against the water beneath us.
I would have landed flat on my face in no time.
Both men wore thick black diving suits that fit close from throat to ankle. They spoke with the calm concentration of men following a routine they had performed dozens of times. Keith stood with his back to me while Braddock faced him, which meant Braddock was facing me.
I couldn’t help noticing how the material traced every line of muscle on Braddock’s lithe body, without leaving much to the imagination.
He had long, lean thighs, but there was nothing delicate about them.
Even through the diving suit, I could see the strength in the way he held himself against the constant rise and fall of the Zodiac, his legs absorbing every shift of the boat without conscious effort.
His waist was narrower than I had realized. What would it feel like to put both hands around it, drag him towards me, and impale him on my hard cock? I could nearly imagine the solid heat of his body under my palms, the way my fingers would dig into his sides, and he would…
As if he had heard my thoughts, Braddock suddenly looked past Keith and caught me staring.
Shit. I looked away quickly but not before I caught him frowning at me.
He stepped around Keith and crossed the short distance between us. I ignored him, clutching the boat tightly. Maybe he had some tools in the back. But no. He stopped right in front of me.
“Hey,” he said. “How are you doing?”
I nodded, trying to look unbothered.
“Is there something I should know?”
I shook my head. For a moment, he only studied me. Then he lowered himself onto the floor of the Zodiac in front of me, one knee down and the other raised, bracing an elbow across his thigh. The position brought us almost eye to eye.
I felt annoyed. Couldn’t he let me breathe for a second? Wasn’t he supposed to be doing his job instead of trying to take another jab at me?
Braddock leaned forward, close enough that when he spoke, his voice reached me beneath the engine without carrying to the other two men.
“How about you sit up there?”
I blinked in confusion.
He nodded toward the bow, where the Zodiac rode higher above the water. I followed his gaze. “The spray’s lighter toward the front,” he added.
I looked back at him. Did he… somehow know about my fear? Or had he picked that up entirely on his own? Dexter would never tell, so it had to be the latter. Either way, he had noticed I was uncomfortable, and he was trying to do something about it without announcing it to the whole boat.
“Uh, yeah. I think I will.”
He patted my knee once and rose to join Keith, expecting me to follow, of course.
I didn’t.
The problem was that moving required letting go. I was two hundred percent sure that if I did that, I would lose my footing and topple headfirst into the cold ocean. I felt pathetic as I looked down at my fingers, which refused to uncurl from their death grip.
Come on.
I was being ridiculous.
“Landry.” He was back in my line of sight. I looked up. That smirk appeared. “Don’t take this the wrong way.”
I stared at him. Okay, here it was, his real motive.
He was about to push me into the abyss. And no one would know.
Everyone was busy being all oooh aaaahh over some shitty seals or dolphins.
He had zeroed in on the right window of opportunity.
It was how every villain worked: “Don’t take this the wrong way, but you’ve outlived your usefulness to me.
Bye. Splash!” Or in his case, he would probably add a wink to distract me, like he had at the fencing match.
“I’m going to offer you my hand, and you’re going to let me lead you to the front,” Braddock finished.
Huh.
He extended a hand and held it in front of me. I looked up at him.
Was he…
Oh.
“But this is the only time we’re holding hands.” His smirk was at full wattage.
A smile broke through before I could stop it, but I managed to school it. It was too late. He had seen it, and his green eyes lit up with unadulterated amusement.
The bastard knew exactly what he was doing. He was making a joke so I wouldn’t have to admit I needed help. Not planning to murder me after all.
I looked from his hand to the narrow stretch of boat between us.
I had two choices. I could let go and crawl my way to the bow, which would mean squeezing between Braddock’s and Keith’s spread legs like some oversized crab.
Or I could take the hand Braddock was holding out to me and walk there with what remained of my dignity.
Between the two evils, holding hands with my arch-nemesis was clearly the sensible choice.
I released one hand from the Zodiac and clasped his palm, our thumbs locking as his fingers closed hard around mine.
The strength in his grip surprised and reassured me.
He hauled me upright in one smooth pull, and I wasn’t sure whether I had stumbled or he had deliberately pulled too hard, but the result was that I fell straight into him.
He absorbed the shock while somehow managing to remain upright.
Damn him and his skill.
My free hand landed on his shoulder. For one suspended second, we stood chest to chest, nose to nose. His freaky pale green eyes were bright with the effort of not laughing. Okay, the jerk had done that deliberately.
He caught my hand on his shoulder and guided it down around his waist. My entire body reacted as my palm settled against the firm curve of his side over his smooth diving suit.
“Hold on,” he said.
As though I needed telling.
I tightened my arm around him while he kept our other hands locked together across my chest, and in this most manly of ways, I made my way toward the bow in a few careful, unsteady steps.
God, I hoped no one was watching. Especially Dexter.
The moment we reached the bow, Braddock pushed me down, dumping me like a sack of potatoes.
“There you go, princess.” He grinned down at me.
Oh, he was so going to pay for this. I wanted to punch him, but my hands were busy.
Hmph.
* * *
Perhaps fifteen minutes had passed. I had stopped feeling as though the Zodiac intended to throw me into the ocean at the first opportunity.
Moving to the bow had been exactly the right call.
Up here, the boat rode higher above the water, and the spray no longer came at me from every direction.
I sat astride the Zodiac’s broad inflated side, facing inward, with both boots planted firmly on the rigid floor, my knees bent and spread enough to brace against the rise and fall beneath me.
The ride had been roughest while we were still inside the narrow channel cut through the sea ice.
With white ice sheets on either side of us, the water disturbed by the Zodiac had nowhere to spread cleanly.
It struck the frozen edges, folded back on itself, and met us again from uneven angles, making the small boat pitch and jolt beneath us.
Once we cleared the channel, the rocking motion decreased at once. My fear abated and I was finally able to pay attention to the gorgeous scenery around us.
The Weddell Sea opened around us in a vast sheet of dark blue, so deep in color that it looked almost black wherever the sunlight did not strike it directly.
The surface lay remarkably flat beneath the bright austral-summer sky.
Large fragments of icebergs rose in sculpted blue-white formations farther out. The day was brilliantly clear.