Going Down (Divemasters #1) (12 page)

W
averly paced
the dingy hotel room she’d been hiding in for a week. It wasn’t a very satisfying circuit since her room was half the size of her cabin onboard the
Divemaster
and nowhere near as clean. In fact, she tried really hard not to speculate about what had caused each of the mysterious stains on the worn avocado-green rug. Her imagination was far too good for that game. Blech.

Hey, it wasn’t like she had paused to consult TripAdvisor when she’d fled from Archer.

If she had been thinking rationally, things would have gone down differently. Any sort of logic had been impossible to muster in the face of the overwhelming reaction his claim had triggered. It had been emotional and primitive.

Unbearably painful.

Archer had achieved the impossible when he’d broken her heart all over again. She hadn’t realized there was that much left to smash. Apparently, some kernel of her puppy love had been hiding down deep in her chest. Maybe he was right. No amount of time would heal her entirely. Especially now.

That didn’t mean she planned to let this latest development shoot her down permanently.

Sure, she’d spent a solid day or two bawling her eyes out in between cursing him for making her break her no-tears edict. Then another few had been dedicated to nursing the mother of all headaches as she stared listlessly out the window at Caracas’s barrios. Today, though, she’d decided enough was enough.

She had to move forward.

Get the hell out of this shithole.

If only she could decide where it was that she should go.

Waverly shushed the totally whacked part of her brain that reminded her about how the
Divemaster
wasn’t so far away and that she had Banks’s direct number in her phone. As betrayed as she’d felt when those unthinkable words had passed Archer’s lips and blown up her world, something kept niggling her consciousness.

It could be the crazy recurring dream she’d been having. One that seemed too real to be entirely a product of her imagination. The fantasy confused her, though, because it didn’t mesh with what she now knew had happened. In the vision, she and Archer were young again and making love. Frantic, reckless sex. But definitely something mutually enjoyable.
Very
enjoyable.

How could her mind romanticize her own attacker?

Maybe she knew where to go after all, straight to her therapist’s waiting room.

Because trying to puzzle out how her subconscious could still so desperately want Archer that it manufactured pleasurable memories to cover up the awful ones…it made her feel like her own mind was violating her.

Or was it?

What if her dreams were actually rooted in memories she hadn’t been able to recall?

What if Archer had misrepresented what had happened?

Had she really understood what he’d said to her or why he would have bothered to rape her when she would have gladly slept with him of her own volition?

No.

Something wasn’t making sense, but she couldn’t work it out on her own.

As it had since the sun rose through her dirty window this morning, her brain attempted to reengage. She couldn’t quite force her thoughts to coalesce into whatever epiphany she felt brewing, but maybe that was because she hadn’t had a decent meal in a while.

Or even a cup of tea to jumpstart herself.

Mmm, tea.

Promising her rumbling stomach she would do a better job of taking care of it today, she hoisted her suitcase onto the bed and began to gather her belongings.

She’d gotten about halfway there—she didn’t have much—when someone pounded on the door. “
Privacidad, por favor.
” She requested to be left alone, as she had every other time the maid came by to do what she could with the place.

“I have no idea what you just said. Open the door, would you?”

Archer! What the fuck was he doing here?

She stood staring incredulously at the entrance to the room when he started banging again. “Come on, Waverly. Please. I need to talk to you.”

Should she? Shouldn’t she?

While she debated, he thumped his fist on the flimsy barrier one time too many. The door ripped off one of its hinges and hung so she could see him through a wedge-shaped gap. His hand hovered in the air, mid-knock.

The shock on his face and the utter absurdity of the situation pushed her over the edge. She couldn’t take her eyes off his horrified expression while he glanced repeatedly between her and the busted door.

Then, together, they burst out laughing.

“Going somewhere?” he asked, eyeing her open suitcase and the fistful of dirty laundry she’d been about to stuff into the front pocket to segregate it from the few remaining clean items she had left.

Just like that, her amusement evaporated. “Not your business.”

“I feel like an idiot out here.” He tried to pry the door open from the outside. It only cracked more. “Would you please let me in? If you don’t feel safe alone with me, then maybe could I have a few minutes of your time somewhere public? It’s just that…I think you’d rather not have anyone overhear what I’d like to tell you.”

Waverly dropped her clothes and picked up one of the other items inside her suitcase instead. Without warning or hesitation, she spread her legs, raised her arms, and aimed her pistol slightly off from his face. Enough to scare him, but not actually on target. Besides, he didn’t have to know it was unloaded at the moment. “I can take care of myself these days. Why don’t you start talking?”

“Jesus Christ!” He ducked behind the ruined door, as if that would stop a bullet when it hadn’t been able to handle the impact of his fist. “Waverly, chill out. I’ll stay in the hall. I just thought you deserved to know what happened that night, okay?”

That made her pause.

It had eaten at her, not knowing all those years.

And he didn’t
have
to enlighten her. Hell, he hadn’t had to confess to being her attacker either.

There it was. The thing that had been bugging her all morning.

Why
had
he done that?

Guilty conscience? Maybe, but if so, spilling his guts obviously hadn’t worked because here he was, looking as distraught as he had when he’d confessed to her.

“Waverly?” he asked again, probably expecting her to turn him into Swiss cheese any second.

Instead, she crossed the room, straightened the door as best she could, then yanked the handle.

It was a teensy bit fun to see him jerk in surprise. Evil, yet satisfying.

“You’re responsible for getting this fixed. It’s not going on my bill.” She shook her head at him as she wandered back to the rumpled bed and plopped down, placing the gun within easy reach on the nightstand. It might not have any ammo in it, but she could always hit him with it, if it came to that.

“I’m good for it.” He shrugged. “I told Banks to give my money to charities, but he keeps finding ways to squirrel away emergency funds here or there for me and forgetting to mention it until later.”

“He’s a good man.”

“The best.” He nodded.

Since you’ve officially lost the crown
, she added mentally.

“So…you want to kick me out of a chopper at five thousand feet above shark-infested waters or something?” He cursed then. “I don’t blame you, honestly. But you should know that I hate myself enough for both of us because of what I did to you.”

“Nah. The US military doesn’t condone torture, Archer. I’d take you out quickly.”

“Are you actually cracking a joke right now?” He groaned, “Waverly—”

“Stop. Get to what you came here to say. I don’t have a lot of patience left.” She rubbed her shirt between her fingers, nervous as fuck that he might be about to impart knowledge more deadly than her pistol.

He closed his eyes for a couple of seconds. When he opened them again, he went straight to the point. “My father drugged you with some designer libido-enhancing substance. I didn’t know. You showed up at my door and morphed into a fantasy come to life. Telling me you wanted to get with me, and that you were legal now. All I could think was how beautiful you were, how untamed under all your shyness. I was kind of drunk, though I’m not saying I shouldn’t have realized something was off. I—”

He swallowed hard, his eyes turning glassy.

A flash of memory blazed to the front of her mind. She grabbed her skull and folded in half, putting her head between her knees. Her dreams. They weren’t dreams at all.

It
had
happened like that.

“Waverly!” he shouted then ran to her, dropping to his knees at her feet. His hands reached for her, but he stopped before making contact.

Would he be so considerate of her boundaries if he was some kind of sexual predator?

She might have wondered more about that if his explanation hadn’t unlocked something subliminal. It was like trying to watch TV when the signal was nearly non-existent. All she could make out was the faintest of images through the static. “We fucked on your entryway floor.”

“Yeah. Then the stairs. And a few other places as I tried to get us to my bedroom.” He rested his forehead on her knee then.

Automatically, her fingers sank into his hair, soothing him, though the gesture also brought her comfort.

He kept going, describing the whole night, in detail, painting a picture of everything she’d missed that matched the glimpses she’d gotten while sleeping. She hadn’t said a peep about them, so there was no way he could have lied and yet described everything she had recalled—not knowing that’s what she’d done.

Things were finally beginning to make sense.

When he got to the end of his story, he cringed. “I didn’t know what I was doing to you, that you weren’t yourself. Until you slipped into unconsciousness.”

“
You
took me to the hospital.”

“Of course! You almost died in my arms!” He lifted his face toward hers then, his eyes bloodshot.

This time her heart found an entirely new way to break.

For them both.

Because it was painfully obvious what had happened. Like a lightning strike, the pieces of the puzzle he’d given her aligned, lighting up her world in an instant. “Archer, your father used you. To hurt my father. It was ruthless revenge. You and I, we were both pawns. Well, maybe
weapons
is a better way to put it.”

“I know. I realized that after you told me about what had happened between them.” He groaned. “All that time, I had no clue.”

“That means, Archer, that you were violated as surely as I was.”

He froze. “Huh?”

“They made you do something against your will. Worse, something that violated the core of who you are. I’ve had years of counseling to help me cope with what happened. You haven’t been able to come to terms with it at all, have you?” When he didn’t respond, she reached out and cupped his cheek, brushing away the single drop of moisture trailing down the strong bones. “I can’t imagine what that’s done to you. Or how you’ve survived.”

“You…you don’t hate me?”

“I hate your father. And mine.”

“That makes two of us,” he snarled.

“It’s going to take me a while to think all of this through. Rewrite history again in my mind. But how could I blame you, Archer? I can’t. Not after what you’ve shared, the tiny bits I can remember, and what my gut is telling me. You know what’s pissing me off more than anything right now?”

“Hopefully, not me for once.” He smiled faintly at her.

“No. Well, not really.” She shook her head and he frowned. “I mean, it’s that not only did they use us, but they also stole my memories of my first time. Something I’d looked forward to sharing with you for a really long time. Was it awesome?”

“Right up until I realized you were in some kind of coma, barely breathing.” He looked like he might break more shit then.

“But before that…”

“It was incredible.
You
were incredible.” Archer brushed his thumb over her lower lip and she couldn’t help but suck it into her mouth and nip the pad before he withdrew.

“That fucker made me believe some fiend took my virginity, when I’d hoped to give it to you all along. They erased the knowledge that it was you I shared that night with and replaced it with horror. Bone-deep terror. That I might have been exposed to diseases. Violated by someone I’d never consent to a relationship with. They spoiled my joy and made me afraid of something that probably was magnificent.
That’s
what’s making me furious.” Waverly’s hands shook and she got more fired up by the second. “I hate what they did to you. And that they ruined any chance the two of us had of getting together.”

Archer changed before her eyes. His grief took on a bitter edge. Then pure fury hardened his features. “You’re right. They robbed us of that, too. All these years we spent apart, it hasn’t changed the chemistry between us. We might have been happy together. Had a family. Made a life. And now we’ll never know if we could have.”

Another thing she would mourn forever.

Waverly put her hands on his shoulders, then skimmed down his arms until she clasped his hands in hers. He squeezed in return, giving her the courage to say, “We can’t go back. But maybe sometime you’ll give me an instant replay of what I missed?”

“You’d want that?” Undiluted sexiness. That’s the only way she could think of to describe the look he shot her then. His eyes blazed and his lips parted. His pupils dilated as he leaned closer.

“Uh huh.” She nodded.

“I need to hear you say it. Clearly, Waverly. No mix-ups this time.”

“I would love to finally know what it feels like to have you inside me, Archer. Where you’ve always belonged.” Well, there was no going back from a statement like that.

Except he didn’t say anything. Didn’t even seem to breathe.

The stress of the week hit her then, sapping the last of her strength and energy. She thought longingly of the
Divemaster
and his circular bed, surrounded by all those windows. A place of light, and beauty, and safety.

And food.

Courses and courses of gourmet chow.

She cleared her throat, but he was still staring at her with that powerful gaze, processing her statement.