Risky Business by Nora Roberts Page A

while she cinched the straps. “You look tired, kid.”
    â€œNo, I’m fine.”
    When she turned, he glanced at the marks on her neck. The story had already made the rounds. “You sure? You don’t look so fine.”
    She lifted a brow as she hooked on her diving knife. “Sweet of you.”
    â€œWell, I mean it. You got me worried about you.”
    â€œNo need to worry.” As Liz pulled on her mask, she glanced over at the roly-poly fatherly type who was struggling with his flippers. He was her bodyguard for the day. “The police have everything under control,” she said, and hoped it was true. She wasn’t nearly as sure about Jonas.
    He hadn’t shocked her the night before. She’d sensed that dangerously waiting violence in him from the first. But seeing his face as he’d grabbed Erika, hearing his voice, had left her with a cold, flat feeling in her stomach. She didn’t know him well enough to be certain if he would choose to control the violence or let it free. More, how could she know he was capable of leashing it? Revenge, she thought, was never pretty.And that’s what he wanted. Remembering the look in his eyes, Liz was very much afraid he’d get it.
    The boat listed, bringing her back to the moment. She couldn’t think about Jonas now, she told herself. She had a business to run and customers to satisfy.
    â€œMiss Palmer.” A young American with a thin chest and a winning smile maneuvered over to her. “Would you mind giving me a check?”
    â€œSure.” In her brisk, efficient way, Liz began to check gauges and hoses.
    â€œI’m a little nervous,” he confessed. “I’ve never done this sort of thing before.”
    â€œIt doesn’t hurt to be a little nervous. You’ll be more careful. Here, pull your mask down. Make sure it’s comfortable but snug.”
    He obeyed, and his eyes looked wide and pale through the glass. “If you don’t mind, I think I’ll stick close to you down there.”
    She smiled at him. “That’s what I’m here for. The depth here is thirty feet,” she told the group in general. “Remember to make your adjustments for pressure and gravity as you descend. Please keep the group in sight at all times.” With innate fluidity, she sat on the deck and rolled into the water. With Luis on deck, and Liz treading a few feet away, they waited until each student made his dive. With a final adjustment to her mask, Liz went under.
    She’d always loved it. The sensation of weightlessness, the fantasy of being unimpeded, invulnerable. From near the surface, the sea floor was a spread of white. She loitered there a moment, enjoying the cathedral like view. Then, with an easy kick, she moved down with her students.
    The newlyweds were holding hands and having the time of their lives. Liz reminded herself to keep them in sight. The policeman assigned to her was plodding along like a sleepy seaturtle. He’d keep her in sight. Most of the others remained in a tight group, fascinated but cautious. The thin American gave her a wide-eyed look that was a combination of pleasure and nerves and stuck close by her side. To help him relax, Liz touched his shoulder and pointed up. In an easy motion, she turned on her back so that she faced the surface. Sunlight streaked thinly through the water. The hull of the dive boat was plainly visible. He nodded and followed her down.
    Fish streamed by, some in waves, some on their own. Though the sand was white, the water clear, there was a montage of color. Brain coral rose up in sturdy mounds, the color of saffron. Sea fans, as delicate as lace, waved pink and purple in the current. She signaled to her companion and watched a school of coral sweepers, shivering with metallic tints, turn as a unit and skim through staghorn coral.
    It was a world she understood as well as, perhaps better, than the one on the surface. Here,