They swam to the dive platform, handed up their gear, climbed the ladder. Dakota’s legs felt strange on the solid deck—that particular post-dive sensation of having left one world and rejoined another.
“Second dive in an hour,” their captain announced. “Different site, supposed to have a resident Napoleon wrasse. Big fella, very friendly. Anyone up for round two?”
Jayden looked at Dakota. “Well?”
He should stay focused. Should use the surface interval to talk to the other passengers, ask about luggage, investigate like he was supposed to.
“Wouldn’t miss it,” he said, and something filled his chest that felt dangerously like peace.
“Okay.” Jayden peeled her wet suit down to her waist, wringing water from her hair. “That was amazing. That whole experience. I’m—” She laughed. “I’m actually speechless, which doesn’t happen often.”
“The angelfish,” Dakota said. It seemed to be the only word he had for what they’d witnessed.
“As if from heaven.” She said it casually, like it was obvious, and something in his chest tightened.
He hadn’t said that out loud. Hadn’t told her about the thought that had surfaced from nowhere. But she’d felt it too.
“As if from heaven,” he said quietly.
They sat on the sun deck as the boat headed toward their second dive site, towels around their shoulders, the morning turning golden. Other passengers milled around—the bird-watcher enthusing about reef fish to anyone who’d listen, the Czech couple keeping to themselves, Vic looking marginally less green now that they were about to serve lunch.
Dakota realized he hadn’t talked to any of them. Hadn’t asked about luggage. Hadn’t investigated anything. And he couldn’t bring himself to regret it.
“So,” Jayden said, stretching her legs out on the lounger. “Any of them seem like luggage thieves to you?”
He huffed a laugh. “I was a little distracted.”
“By the reef?”
“By—” He stopped. Met her eyes. “Yeah. The reef.”
She held his gaze for a moment, something warm and knowing in her expression. Then she looked away, toward the water, and the moment passed.
“Tomorrow’s the Hunter Valley,” she said. “Wine country. Maybe we’ll have better luck asking around when everyone’s relaxed and drinking.”
“So we’re staying on the tour.”
“Do you have somewhere else to be?”
Sydney. The summit. The Opera House assessment. Ham waiting for an update.
“Not really,” Dakota said. “Wine country sounds good.”
Jayden smiled and Dakota felt something shift in his chest. Not the analytical part. Not the threat-assessment part. Something older. Something he’d thought he’d trained out of himself years ago.
Longing.
He looked at her—wet hair drying in the sun, face bare of makeup, eyes bright from the dive. How could he have ever suspected her of anything?
The women’s clothes, the disassembled weapon, the questions he couldn’t answer—none of it fit the woman sitting beside him. The woman who had looked at him through the school of angelfish like they were sharing something sacred.
She wasn’t an assassin. She was just . . . Jayden. Hotel inspector. Adventure seeker. Whatever else she was hiding—and she was hiding something, he knew that much—it wasn’t what he’d feared.
The steward announced lunch, and the rest of the travelers headed down to the galley.
But Dakota sat beside a woman he barely knew, hoping for the first time in years that he wasn’t wrong.
Jayden had forgotten how to breathe.
