Inwardly she cringed, but she kept her tone no-nonsense. “It’s a PAWS requirement.”
“Shall we take your boat?” Brandon asked Sam.
Sam studied her and she met his gaze, determined to keep the fear out of her eyes.
“You don’t have to come with us,” he said.
She had to do her job, had to move past this fear. Her therapist had told her she should dive as soon as possible after the incident, but she hadn’t been able to. It was now or never. She gave a curt nod. “Yes, I do.”
Sam turned to Brandon. “You can be our watch,” he said. “Stay on deck.”
“All right.”
This was such a bad idea. Sam should have been annoyed, Brandon should have insisted, and they should have gone off on their own. Then she couldn’t have dived without a buddy. Why couldn’t either of them get uptight and angry about being told what to do?
“Fine,” she managed. “Stow your gear on board and we’ll head off.” She busied herself with doing her pre-start checks and by the time she was done, the men were perched on the edge of the boat waiting patiently for her to finish.
She’d never felt so pedantic.
As she handed out the life vests, Sam focused on her, his eyes probing as if trying to figure out what she was hiding. She looked away and cast off the lines before motoring out of the harbour.
Penelope ignored the men behind her except for the occasional glance to make sure they hadn’t fallen overboard without her hearing. The engine was noisy and Sam and Brandon had their heads close together talking.
Probably planning what to do when they got out there.
She almost hoped they came up with a legitimate excuse why none of them could go under.
No. It was time to be brave.
Ceiveon would tell her she could do this.
But the horror of the memory chilled her.
She slowed the boat as she approached the area where she’d stopped the poachers. Circling, she stopped above a sandy patch. Brandon climbed onto the bow and threw out the anchor, the splash making Penelope flinch. She turned to find Sam had already slipped on his wetsuit and had attached his tank and regulator to the BCD.
So organised.
“Ready when you are.”
The powerful urge to throw up had her place a hand on her stomach as she unzipped her bag and withdrew her wetsuit.
One step at a time. She’d worn bathers underneath her clothes, so she changed into the wetsuit, using the long strap to zip it at the back. Meanwhile, Sam had attached her tank to the BCD and the regulator to the tank. Her BCD already had the correct weights in it.
She double checked his work, both on her own gear and his. When she finished, he smiled at her. “Happy?”
Not even close.
Her throat closed over as he slid on his fins and clipped up the jacket. There had to be some way she could stop this madness.
Her fingers shook as she clipped the safety marker buoy to her BCD and filled her pockets with the gear in her backpack. Then she struggled to get her fins on, before Brandon helped her with the tank.
The click of the BCD vest was like a gunshot in the air, and she flinched as she did each one. Finally she put her goggles on.
“Ready?” Sam asked.
“No!” She stepped forward, almost tripping on her fins. His eyes widened, and she swallowed her panic. “We haven’t done our buddy checks.”
“You’ve already checked the equipment,” Brandon pointed out.
