It didn’t take long. They wheeled back the tanks and the wet suits and the equipment the others needed to survive under the water. And a cooler full of ice and water, and even some of the fruit juices she liked, and the Cokes—she liked them, too.
While they loaded it, secured it, there was a lot of talk in Italian, but without the rude words now.
And at last—at last—they were all on board, and skinny Fabio released the ropes that held them to the dock.
Riley tapped two fingers to the brim of her hat. “Ciao, Fabio. You fuckhead,” she added in a mutter.
“A fuckhead is an asshole?”
Riley tipped down her shady glasses so her tawny eyes laughed into Annika’s. “A fuckhead is a really big asshole. My friend Anna Maria, who is neither asshole nor fuckhead, says we can moor the RIB at the dive club while we’re here. It’ll make loading and unloading easier.”
Riley walked forward
to what they called a wheelhouse, where Doyle worked the controls. “I pilot today, remember?”
“Just getting us away from the fuckhead.” But he stepped aside, gave her the wheel.
Then they were skimming over the water, nearly as good as being in its heart. Doyle stepped out of the wheelhouse to go over the equipment.
“I don’t need the tank,” Annika began.
“Better if you gear up, like the rest of us.”
“We could run into other divers,” Sawyer explained. “People would notice if you’re diving without equipment.”
“So I just pretend.”
“That’s right.”
“I can do that.”
“We stick together,” Bran reminded them as Annika stripped down to her bathing suit. And as Sawyer tried not to watch her strip down. “However unlikely Nerezza’s found us this quickly, we can’t take chances. Everybody stays in sight.” He glanced toward Sasha.
“I don’t feel anything. But I appreciate everyone keeping me in sight, in case I start any underwater dream-walking.”
“I’ll look out for you,” Annika told her.
“I know you will.”
“We’ll say, as it worked before, Sawyer and Annika at point, Sasha and I behind, and Doyle and Riley at flank. All right?”
“Works for me.” Sawyer zipped up his wet suit. “First time I’ve started a dive knowing I’m swimming with a mermaid.” He grinned at Annika. “Adds to it.”
“But keep the legs, Gorgeous,” Doyle warned as Riley turned inland toward high cliffs.
“I promise. Unless there is an attack.”
“Speaking of, any luck on the bolts, bullets, and blades?” Doyle asked as he hefted a harpoon.
“Considerable, but it needs work yet. A few more days, then we’ll see. For now, should we say one harpoon to each set of buddies? With Sasha’s skills with a crossbow, I’d say she’s the one in ours.”
“Oh.”
Doyle passed her the harpoon. “Can you handle it?”
Sasha frowned at it, tested its weight. “Yes. I can do this.”
“I don’t want one,” Annika said immediately.