Wicked Nights by Anne Marsh Page A
Authors: Anne Marsh
Tags: <div><p></p><p>Winner takes it all...off </p><p>Former diving champion Piper Clark never loses. Unfortunately, if she doesn't land this lucrative contract, her diving business will fail. Worse still, it will be at the hands of her childhood nemesis, Cal Brennan--six feet of hard, rugged former Navy SEAL. So Piper proposes a wager: whoever loses the diving contract must take orders from the winner...in bed. </p><p>Cal needs this contract for his own reasons. A former rescue swimmer, he may be having a few issues with diving since his last mission ended, but Piper doesn't need to know that. Something about her impulsive nature makes Cal rise to the bait, and there's nothing he'd like more than to show Piper exactly what rules are good for. </p><p>All bets are on. And someone's about to start playing dirty....</p></div>
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rescuing other people from the ocean.
Too bad he was the one who needed rescuing now.
Damn it.
He stood up, tugging his mask down and into place. The boat rocked gently, mockingly, as he took one
large step off the side of Piper’s boat and let go, exhaling sharply. One second. Water rushed over his head
as he went under. Don’t think. BUD/S training included drown-proofing. Arms and legs tied together, he’d
voluntarily dropped down into a thirteen-foot pool only to release his air and power back to the surface.
Over and over. Two seconds. If he could do that repeatedly, he could do this once.
Three seconds.
And yet the panic was there. Some part of him wasn’t convinced he wasn’t neck-deep in the Indian
Ocean, diving in churned-up, debris-filled water while he looked for Lars and came up empty-handed.
He’d failed that day.
Hell, he was still failing.
Four seconds.
He broke the surface, tearing the snorkel from his mouth and sucking in long gasps of air. The sunshine
and the ocean’s flat surface mocked him. No Blackhawk chopper hovered overhead, its rotors churning the
water’s surface into a blinding froth. No basket. No rope ladder up. Just him and a beginner’s dive he
couldn’t cope with.
He needed to dive. Once he got back into the saddle, everything would be fine. If he had even one good
dive under his belt, he’d be closer to fixing the mess he was in. He had to hold it together. Too bad his body
hadn’t gotten the memo.
He inhaled slowly, pulling salty air deep into his lungs. Boat oil. Neoprene rubber. All good things.
Unfortunately, cataloging the scents and smells of the ocean didn’t distract his mind from where he was.
Worse, the earthy, pungent scent of loose strands of sea kelp floating on the surface reminded him he
wasn’t really alone in the water. Debris from a tsunami might not choke the slice of the Pacific surrounding
Discovery Island, but there was still plenty of stuff to bump into out here.
He dipped his face into the ocean, tipping his head back to drain the water out of his mask. When he
looked down through the mask, he spotted Piper and Carla moving gracefully down the anchor line toward
the bottom. Rose Wall was a beautiful dive. The site description included a kelp forest and schools of
yellowtails. The question was, did he join Piper or did he sit the dive out, bobbing around on the surface
like an old woman?
Before he could overthink it, he took another long breath, focusing only on the push of air through his
lungs and his rib cage expanding. He dived at a slant, the water pressure on his back driving him down
toward the bottom. Seven feet. Eight. Then a piece of seaweed brushed his leg. Or a shark. A goddamned
tree. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt the electric shock of the unexpected touch through the three-
millimeter wet suit. Hell. This time, the flashback rolled over him, impossible to ignore. He sucked in water
through his snorkel, no longer sure which end was up and which down.
* * *
PIPER SANK SLOWLY, feet first, dumping air from the BC as she exhaled. Pinching her nose closed,
she breathed out gently until her ears equalized and then started mentally mapping the corals and
underwater formations. Getting lost on her way back to the boat wasn’t part of her plans. Overhead, an
explosion of bubbles marked Cal’s entry into the water.
She paused, waiting to see if he’d be joining them. He hadn’t indicated any intentions of doing so, but
she didn’t want to leave him behind or swimming to catch up if he’d changed his mind. What she didn’t
see, though, was a tank or diving fins. He dipped below the surface briefly, diving in a smooth, clean arc.
At seven feet he slowed. At twelve...something happened. She wasn’t sure what, but Cal’s body jerked and
flailed. Grabbing her dive slate, she scrawled a note for Carla.
He okay?”
Carla pointed toward Cal in silent question, and Piper nodded. Both women
Too bad he was the one who needed rescuing now.
Damn it.
He stood up, tugging his mask down and into place. The boat rocked gently, mockingly, as he took one
large step off the side of Piper’s boat and let go, exhaling sharply. One second. Water rushed over his head
as he went under. Don’t think. BUD/S training included drown-proofing. Arms and legs tied together, he’d
voluntarily dropped down into a thirteen-foot pool only to release his air and power back to the surface.
Over and over. Two seconds. If he could do that repeatedly, he could do this once.
Three seconds.
And yet the panic was there. Some part of him wasn’t convinced he wasn’t neck-deep in the Indian
Ocean, diving in churned-up, debris-filled water while he looked for Lars and came up empty-handed.
He’d failed that day.
Hell, he was still failing.
Four seconds.
He broke the surface, tearing the snorkel from his mouth and sucking in long gasps of air. The sunshine
and the ocean’s flat surface mocked him. No Blackhawk chopper hovered overhead, its rotors churning the
water’s surface into a blinding froth. No basket. No rope ladder up. Just him and a beginner’s dive he
couldn’t cope with.
He needed to dive. Once he got back into the saddle, everything would be fine. If he had even one good
dive under his belt, he’d be closer to fixing the mess he was in. He had to hold it together. Too bad his body
hadn’t gotten the memo.
He inhaled slowly, pulling salty air deep into his lungs. Boat oil. Neoprene rubber. All good things.
Unfortunately, cataloging the scents and smells of the ocean didn’t distract his mind from where he was.
Worse, the earthy, pungent scent of loose strands of sea kelp floating on the surface reminded him he
wasn’t really alone in the water. Debris from a tsunami might not choke the slice of the Pacific surrounding
Discovery Island, but there was still plenty of stuff to bump into out here.
He dipped his face into the ocean, tipping his head back to drain the water out of his mask. When he
looked down through the mask, he spotted Piper and Carla moving gracefully down the anchor line toward
the bottom. Rose Wall was a beautiful dive. The site description included a kelp forest and schools of
yellowtails. The question was, did he join Piper or did he sit the dive out, bobbing around on the surface
like an old woman?
Before he could overthink it, he took another long breath, focusing only on the push of air through his
lungs and his rib cage expanding. He dived at a slant, the water pressure on his back driving him down
toward the bottom. Seven feet. Eight. Then a piece of seaweed brushed his leg. Or a shark. A goddamned
tree. He didn’t know what it was, but he felt the electric shock of the unexpected touch through the three-
millimeter wet suit. Hell. This time, the flashback rolled over him, impossible to ignore. He sucked in water
through his snorkel, no longer sure which end was up and which down.
* * *
PIPER SANK SLOWLY, feet first, dumping air from the BC as she exhaled. Pinching her nose closed,
she breathed out gently until her ears equalized and then started mentally mapping the corals and
underwater formations. Getting lost on her way back to the boat wasn’t part of her plans. Overhead, an
explosion of bubbles marked Cal’s entry into the water.
She paused, waiting to see if he’d be joining them. He hadn’t indicated any intentions of doing so, but
she didn’t want to leave him behind or swimming to catch up if he’d changed his mind. What she didn’t
see, though, was a tank or diving fins. He dipped below the surface briefly, diving in a smooth, clean arc.
At seven feet he slowed. At twelve...something happened. She wasn’t sure what, but Cal’s body jerked and
flailed. Grabbing her dive slate, she scrawled a note for Carla.
He okay?”
Carla pointed toward Cal in silent question, and Piper nodded. Both women
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