He placed his goggles and fins in a tub and then unbuckled the BCD, placing it to the side. He had another tank with him, but he’d explore the island before he went down again to give him enough time between dives.
The sun’s rays warmed him, so he didn’t bother with a towel, just unzipped his wetsuit and pulled it down around his waist. As he started the engine, he noticed the luxury launch was still moored on the other side of the sanctuary zone, about a hundred metres away, but another boat had joined it. One with Parks and Wildlife Services emblazoned on the side.
What were the chances it was Penelope?
He motored closer, unsure whether he wanted to see her. She’d probably tell him he wasn’t allowed to dive here, even though he’d double-checked the location and the rules before he’d gone down.
Sam headed towards the shore when a glint of something on the deck of the luxury boat caught his eye. His body tensed, the instinct too ingrained after years in the military, and he slowed to take a closer look. One guy stood on the deck and another man was in the water. Both were facing the red-headed woman on the other boat and pointing weapons at her.
Penelope.
He reached for his hand-held radio, saying a silent thanks to Brandon who had recommended he get one and take it everywhere with him. He flicked to the marine rescue station. “I’ve got a situation here.”
“What are your coordinates and the problem?”
“I’m in the western sanctuary zone off South Muiron Island,” Sam said. “Parks and Wildlife has stopped a luxury boat called Joy Ridin’. Both men appear to be holding weapons on Penelope. Can you notify the police?”
“Roger that. Do not approach.”
Like hell he wouldn’t.
He replaced the radio as he pointed his boat towards Penelope, being sure to rev the engine so the men had plenty of time to hide their weapons. Sure enough, when he looked back towards the boat, the weapons were gone.
Good.
He analysed how to play this. He needed to get between Penelope and the man in the water so he couldn’t attack her. Then he’d have to deal with the person on deck. He had a dive knife, but his knife throwing skills weren’t the best.
As he neared, he waved to Penelope. “Hi, Penelope!” He slowed the tender, bumping into the marlin board of the boat and forcing the diver to back-pedal.
“Watch it,” the diver called.
Sam glanced at him. “Oh, sorry, mate. Didn’t see you there. Have you been down today? Isn’t it glorious?” The bumbling fool never failed to make guys like this relax. “Can I give you a hand up?” He reached a hand towards the man.
Through the clear water the spear gun was visible, though the diver had shifted it to his outside hand.
The diver glanced at him, then up to his mate on the boat and back.
“Sam, go,” Penelope said, her voice trembling. “I’m working.”
Fury filled him at her fear and he ignored her, not even looking her way. “Did you see the tiger shark?” he continued. “It was a beauty, gliding through the water. Had to be a good three or four metres long. Scared the shit out of me. I thought I was going to be lunch.”
The diver scanned the water below him and then swore and shoved the spear gun on the marlin board and clambered onto the boat. While the diver awkwardly peeled off his fins and climbed into the main area of the boat, Sam shifted his tender so it nudged the Parks and Wildlife boat away from the edge.
“Sam, what are you doing?”
“Sorry, still getting used to the steering on this thing,” he called to Penelope over the engine, keeping his eyes on the man standing on the deck, whose hand had moved behind his back. “I wanted to ask you a couple of questions about the island if you’ve got time. You guys don’t mind the interruption, do you?”
The man with the gun smiled. “We were just going,” he called. “Knock yourself out.” About six feet, well-muscled, brown hair, bulldog tattoo. Sam could take him if it came to hand-to-hand combat.
The diver had discarded his equipment next to a second set of scuba gear and moved to the front of the boat to pull the anchor. Black hair, skinnier, maybe five-ten and any distinguishing features were covered by the wetsuit.
“Sam, stop it,” Penelope hissed. “They need—”
The boat’s engine roared to life, drowning out her words. The man with the gun waved as they motored away, heading out to sea. Sam kept his eyes on them until they were far enough not to be a threat and then turned to Penelope. Her face was pale and her hand shook as she reached for the radio.
“I’ve reported it,” Sam said as he moved his boat alongside and cut the engine, throwing a rope to her and jumping over to her boat.
“What?” She blinked at him, expression a little dazed, vulnerable.
