Going Down (Divemasters #1) Read Online Free Page A

helpful stones dotted the shores of Bonaire, which was truly one of the most SCUBA-friendly places they’d ever lived and worked.
    Had they visited every single site on the island yet? He’d have to check the marine park map tucked into his logbook tonight, and speed up the process if they hadn’t. They couldn’t have much time left. A week at most, he figured.
    Maybe the impending shakeup made him clingy, since Archer found himself nostalgic for once. Curious, since they’d been places so lush and green they almost hurt to look at. Somehow, he’d fallen in love with the deserts of Bonaire, the donkeys that wandered into the road and blocked traffic, and the one-way roads on the north side of the island that forced you to do a tour of the lake just to get back to town. He couldn’t get enough of watching the world-class kite surfers on Lac Bay, kayaking through the mangroves, exploring the caves complete with ancient paintings, or hanging out in the blustery gusts on the wild east side…next stop, Africa. Even the salt fields where the locals pumped water onto the land—no good for anything else, certainly not growing anything edible—to evaporate it and sell the sea salt left behind seemed charming when they were dotted with grazing flamingos. And the salt pier where the goods were put on giant ships was one of the coolest places to dive under and around, always teeming with tarpon, groupers, and schools of barracudas.
    People in Bonaire made the best of everything they’d been given. Like he, Tosin, and Miguel had done.
    He remembered the adventures they’d had together so far instead of looking forward to whatever came next. If things worked out like Banks kept assuring him it would, maybe they could return someday. Here or to any of the other places they’d discovered on their journey around the world.
    Tosin dropped a cooler full of beer onto the sand between the blankets Archer had only barely finished spreading over the crushed coral. He rubbed his bare abs above the shorts he’d tugged on to conceal his European-style trunks. “I’m starving.”
    “Nothing new there.” Archer snorted.
    “Hey, all that swimming makes a man hungry.” Tosin practically drooled. “Besides, I burned off a ton of calories last night with the gorgeous Asian woman we met in the market a couple days ago.”
    “Aki?” Archer prided himself on recalling her name along with the lilac bikini that hadn’t concealed her outstanding rack.
    “Sounds right. Why? You didn’t already do her and forget to mention it, did you?” Tosin squinted at Archer. He glanced away, pretending to stare at the waves kissing the shore. His friend misinterpreted his awkwardness. “Wait, you didn’t call dibs and I forgot—?”
    They may have been players, but even they had their own code between them. No poaching being one of the cardinal rules that had kept them from having a major falling out these past twelve years.
    “Nah, nothing like that. Just…an unusual name. Pretty.”
    “I guess. Not as pretty as some other things about her, though.” Tosin shrugged. “Anyway, it was her last night in town. She showed up at my door, so I helped her make some sexy memories for her scrapbook.”
    Lucky for the hungry horndog, Miguel was heading back, his arms piled with takeout containers.
    Archer promised himself he’d put away every morsel of his. Not only because he could see the chalkboard bolted to the side of the truck. Lionfish—his favorite—was the special of the day.
    It seemed a month of freaking out every moment he wasn’t underwater had started to take its toll. He’d mooned an entire boatload of divers the day before when his trunks had refused to hug his hips no matter how hard he yanked on the tie that cinched the waist. The straps on his BCD couldn’t get any tighter either.
    He rubbed the back of his neck.
    “Still not sleeping well?” Tosin asked.
    “There are probably better mattresses in prison than my bunkhouse. Or