Going Down (Divemasters #1) Read Online Free

their countdown completed, they followed each other single-file through a channel in the coral, over a bed of rubble. Archer’s computer marked each foot they rose, from fifteen to five. Before he was ready to rejoin the realm of land-lovers, his head crested the surface.
    “Did you see how that thing almost ran into me?” Miguel was pumped over his close encounter with the squid.
    “It was awesome. I could see the surface of its skin changing colors and my own reflection in its eyeball. Lucky it didn’t hypnotize me or some shit!” Tosin joined in.
    Usually, the first moments above water bubbled over with excited chatter as everything they’d been thinking rushed out once they regained the ability to speak. Sure, they had perfected their own version of sign language, and carried slates to write notes to each other when that wouldn’t suffice, but nothing beat talking about their discoveries.
    Today, Archer had nothing to contribute.
    The whole world had flipped upside down. Dropping his regulator and taking his first breath of air from the atmosphere, he suddenly felt like he was drowning.
    He sighed as he braced himself against the waves in thigh-deep water, then tugged on the spring straps of his fins, completing his transformation from merman to stealth billionaire. A guy he wasn’t sure he wanted to be anymore.
    With one final glance over his shoulder, he ducked his head and trailed behind his friends.
    They trundled through the gentle surf toward the beach. Salt water sluiced off him, making his footprints in the sand turn dark and clumpy. He relished the burn in his calves and thighs as he hauled himself and his sixty-plus pounds of equipment up the unstable incline, over rocks and past cacti, until they reached their truck, parked at the side of the road.
    No need for a gym membership when this was part of their daily regime. Sometimes they did as many as five dives in a day. Often they followed it up with some midnight cardio that worked entirely different sets of muscles. Exhausting, but he’d never gotten sick of it.
    Miguel rested his tank on the tailgate as he slipped off his mask, then unsnapped from his BCD. “If you guys will break down my stuff, I’ll go get in line at the street-meat stand.”
    Fish from a roadside tin can? Guaranteed food poisoning, right?
    Archer had been skeptical once, too.
    Now he knew better than to listen to his inner snob.
    The place served the freshest fish, caught daily, and had become a staple of their diet since they’d landed on the tarmac not too far from where he stood. Hard to believe that had only been a few short months ago.
    If their patterns held true, it wouldn’t be too much longer before one of them got a tip on another destination looking for help. Someone who’d be downright giddy to take on a trio of divemasters with their credentials. Off they’d go again.
    Who knew where they’d end up next?
    Well, he actually had some idea. But would the guys be onboard? Would they come onboard?
    Archer screwed the dust cap onto his regulator and finished neatly arranging their gear so they could dunk it in the freshwater bins back at the resort before retiring to the tiny cabanas provided for each of the staff members in an attempt to justify their ridiculously low wages.
    Honestly, he wasn’t in any hurry to return. He hadn’t been able to sleep much recently. Every time he closed his eyes, dreams of her turned into a nightmare replay of the situation that had driven him to leave it all behind. Another night of staring at the bamboo ceiling might push him over the edge of his sanity. Tosin and Miguel went out a lot of nights, or were otherwise occupied, so he’d spent a lot of time alone lately.
    He snagged their pile of blankets then headed back to the beach. Lizards scattered in front of him, and a kickass blue whiptail sunned itself on the yellow-and-black painted rock that marked the location of the dive site along the way. More than sixty of those