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“Why not?”
“I’m not going to be responsible for you going belly up because you forgot to breathe.”
“Don’t be so dramatic. I promise I won’t blame you if anything goes wrong.”
“Pfft, you won’t be the one blaming me if you’re dead, mister.”
“Okay, how about this? We do a test dive first, and if I prove to you that I know what I’m doing, we’ll do our next dive down to that plane.” I pointed at the monitor.
She folded her arms and did a sexy thing with her lips where she was trying to be angry but couldn’t quite get there. “Damn, you’re pushy.”
“Pot, kettle, Captain Bossy Boots.”
She burst out laughing, and I loved seeing her unrestrained. “Alrighty, mister, let’s see if you remember how to set up your dive gear.”
She led the way to Rhino’s rear and shoved open a heavy door. Her equipment cupboard was the definition of organized chaos. I helped her remove two air tanks and dive vests, and we dragged them and the rest of the equipment we needed down to the dive deck.
She stepped back with her hands on her hips. “Show me how you put these together.”
It may have been thirteen years since I’d completed my scuba dive course, but for once, my photographic memory came in very handy.
Once the kit was complete, I checked the valve to make sure air was flowing, then stepped back to see her reaction. “Done.”
She darted her eyes upward.
Had she been checking out my butt?
Sucking her lips into her mouth like she was trying not to smile, she stepped forward to examine my work.
“And?” I asked.
She turned to me and gave the okay signal.
I matched her hand sign.
She shook her head. “I hope I don’t regret this, Kingsley.”
“Life’s too short for regrets.”
“Unless it’s your life that’s cut short.”
I smiled. “Yes, I guess there is that.”
She thumped my shoulder. “Let me wake up Dad and tell him what we’re doing.”
With Old Smithy seated on the steps down to the dive deck watching us, we hoisted our dive kits onto our backs.
I checked my gear one last time.
“Remember, it’s all about control,” Indiana said, her voice adding to the mild breeze blowing across the ocean. “Your breath, your movements, your thoughts. All controlled.”
“Got it.” Control was something I fully understood. In my deep undercover days, it meant survival. Underwater, it would be just as critical.
The afternoon sun glanced off the water, casting long shadows over the dive deck. My heart hammered with a mix of nerves and excitement. Indiana watched me with eyes sharp as flint.
“Ready?” I asked, trying to sound casual, yet not missing the edge to my voice. I couldn’t afford to screw this up.
“Start your dive time,” she replied, showing her serious side. “Mark our time, Dad.”
