craft, and he knew more about sailing, the yacht, the sea, and fishing than his companion. But also, because he wasn’t alone anymore, and Brimley had been right. Having someone to talk with, someone who understood where you came from, was a relief. Didn’t hurt that he and Brimley were both combat vets, even though they’d fought separate wars at different times. Warrior-speak was the same language the world over, and one war was as bad as every other. Which was just plain sad.
Tucking his arms over his head, Walker jack-knifed into the bluest waters on the planet. Just like that, he was back where he belonged, cutting through seawater like that shark had and scattering schools of sunny orange and vividly bright blue fish as he went. The sea would forever be his first home of choice.
Opening his eyes beneath the waves, he studied the seascape. To his right, a few large tunas mingled with remoras and smaller silvery fish. The dark shape of a turtle lumbered in the murky distance. To his left, the massive white keel of the yacht bobbed calmly in the waves. She might sell for under two-hundred K, but honestly, what more did a man need than a star to steer by and a seaworthy ship to see the world in?
Only the one thing I may never have again. Freedom.
There was that. But rather than dwell on the negative shadows stalking his life, Walker propelled himself topside, grabbed another lung full of air, then dived back down to inspect the Meridian’s hull. Smooth and sleek, she was an excellent craft. Both props were clean of barnacles. All blades were in good shape. No nicks. No chips. No paint missing anywhere.
Overall, Persia Smiles looked fairly new and untouched. It’d be nice to locate her registration and confirm his suspicion that the yacht was only a couple years old. If that. There simply wasn’t enough wear and tear to indicate she’d seen much use. Hell, her cedar decking wasn’t sun-faded or water-stained. Even the recliners’ cushions were still crisp and seemingly unused.
But enough worrying and wondering. Like a streamlined barracuda, Walker flattened his arms to his sides and arrowed back into the land of sunlight, where Brim was helping Rover into the dinghy. The dog had the widest smile on his wet, furry face. So did Brimley. He’d tossed his jeans into a soggy ball beside Rover.
Rolling over, Walker settled into a steady set of backstrokes that took him far into the ocean. This was all he needed. Blue sky overhead, deep blue sea beneath, and the taste of saltwater in his mouth.
About a mile from the yacht, he jack-knifed underwater and came up with his arms spread wide, ready to fly. The butterfly stroke turned him into a natural seal, with the crown of his head leading the way, dipping just below the waves to break the surface tension. His entire body streamlined close to the surface. His hips perfectly synchronized with the rest of his body. He was one with the sea.
Never mind that his arms weren’t fins or that they stretched forward, then down and out, then backward, movements a seal didn’t have to make. Never mind that his hands cupped the waves away, while the powerful downbeats of his feet propelled him forward. The butterfly was the most exhausting stroke for most swimmers. Yet with every forward thrust, he relished the natural undulation of his body in water. For these few private, intimate minutes, he was one with Mother Nature. And she was bitchin’.
Back again at the swim deck, he drew both hands over his head, rotated on his side, then planted his feet on Persia Smiles’ ass. Automatically, both legs straightened, thrusting him away from the yacht as he moved into an easygoing breaststroke. By then, his chest muscles were feeling the burn. Going the same distance, he finished his drill with a lazy swim back to the yacht. Damn, he was sore, but he felt good.
Breathing deep and easy, he closed his eyes and imagined what it would be like with Persia swimming at his side. Her hair wet and pulled back from her face. Her skin like silk, smooth and warm. Her eyes, big and dark, full of promise. Her lips red and swollen, because by then, she would’ve been well-kissed. She might even be sore in all the right places.
His chest heaved with a satisfied sigh at his impossible dream.
It was time to get back on board, back