Going Hard: Divemasters, Book 3

C
opyright
© 2016 by Jayne Rylon

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Edited By
Mackenzie Walton

Cover Art By
Jayne Rylon

Version 6

D
ivemasters
, Book 3

Three SCUBA instructors, who happen to be sexual dominants, are about to take the ultimate plunge. If you’re extraordinarily lucky, you’ll be invited to join them on The Divemaster, where work and pleasure go hand in hand. Welcome aboard!

As the last lone wolf of The Divemaster, Tosin Ellis doesn’t plan on partnering up anytime soon. Then his friend Archer commissions an engagement ring for his fiancée…

Jeweler Kahori Akama is sensual, intriguing, and happy to accept Tosin’s help sourcing the black pearls she uses in her popular pieces. As their relationship goes from professional to personal, Tosin also learns Kahori’s family is under the threat of a blackmailer, someone intent on ruining her business to lay claim to its valuable property.

Tosin never expected to find a single woman that could slake his sexual appetites, but Kahori surrenders to her raw and primal urges with the natural power of a typhoon strong enough to blow even a veteran sailor far off course. Once he’s experienced loving in the eye of the storm, he can’t imagine being satisfied by less.

Once more, the crew of The Divemaster will do what it takes to protect their own. Especially Tosin, who realizes Kahori’s heart just may be his home.

F
or everyone
who wishes they could travel more.

T
osin Ellis braced
himself against the railing on the uppermost deck of the
Divemaster
megayacht. He tipped his face toward the breeze then drew fresh island air into his lungs until they threatened to pop. He loved the salty tang of the ocean, always would. Yet something about that first scent of earth after weeks surrounded by the sea overpowered his senses. Ripe with flowers and vegetation and rich dirt, it smelled like coming home.

In fact, after a long passage—like the nearly four thousand miles they’d just finished cruising from Midway Island, west of Hawaii, to the Cook Islands, in the BFE neighborhood of the South Pacific—his nose told them land was near before they spotted it on the horizon.

Well, his nose and Captain Alex’s trusty GPS, along with the rest of the technology onboard. The bridge of the ship looked like it could easily transport them to Mars and back. Crossing a remote stretch of ocean…
pfft
. No problem.

An approaching boat carrying a welcoming committee drew his attention away from the green lump of Rarotonga on the horizon. The sense of rightness that accompanied the first indications of an approaching shoreline reminded him that although he spent a large portion of his life below the waves, guiding SCUBA divers through a marine paradise, he hadn’t yet grown gills or evolved into a merman.

His new life goal.

Hey, he had to dream up something even wilder and crazier to aspire to than “multimillionaire”, since Archer Banks had already helped him check that off his bucket list. He shook his head then rubbed his thumbs over the polished wood beneath them. The idea that he co-owned the
Divemaster
, a nearly three hundred foot luxury vessel, along with his two best friends still didn’t seem quite real.

It had been about a year since Archer had inherited his father’s billions and transformed himself, Tosin, and Miguel from perpetual beach bums into benevolent cruisers who invited deserving people on all-expenses-paid vacations of a lifetime. Together, they made sure their visitors had a great experience while they explored whatever corner of the world the ship happened to occupy at that moment. Maybe someday Tosin would accept that he wasn’t dreaming.

He figured he could live and work here forever without growing sick of it. Something he’d never been able to say about a place or a job before.

Right then, though, he had visions of one thing he was lacking: a juicy cheeseburger.

The
Divemaster
had ridiculous amounts of storage compared to a typical yacht, but after the lavish meals the staff had prepared during their voyage, even she had grown light. It took a lot to feed the crew, the owners, and their guests for so long. Especially to their chef’s standards.

Gone were the days of munching a granola bar or a banana for breakfast on his way to some backwoods dive shop. No, the kitchen staff insisted that everyone involved in the Divemaster Project ate well. And he wasn’t complaining.

Tosin had enjoyed many delicious fresh fish dinners in a row. Some of which he’d contributed to himself through the bounty of his late afternoon deep sea fishing sessions. Still, he couldn’t wait to sink his teeth into a hunk of low-grade, greasy ground beef.

If he was lucky, maybe he’d also find some female company to liven up a shared meal. Someone adventurous, willing to join him for a late-night private party in the ship’s naughtily appointed clubroom afterward, would be even better.

Tosin observed as Captain Alex coordinated with the local harbormaster to position them as close as safely possible to the island before dropping anchor in a spot that wouldn’t damage the reef encircling the volcanic island.

They didn’t have facilities to accommodate a ship as large as the
Divemaster
within the ring of coral that formed a protective barrier between the open ocean and the beachside villages of Rarotonga. So they’d anchor out here and take tenders into Avatiu Harbour.

He should probably figure out where he’d stowed his flip-flops last time he’d come onboard, and scrounge around for a shirt. Maybe even one with buttons. Most of the time—when he wasn’t suited up in dive gear—he roamed around in only his swim trunks. Or less.

It felt weird to wear actual clothes anymore. Still, he’d attempt to look halfway civilized when they stumbled onto these foreign shores, trying to find their land legs again.

Despite their inflated bank accounts, Tosin, Miguel, and Archer couldn’t claim to have gotten much more sophisticated than they’d been when they roamed the globe, hopping from place to place whenever the whim arose and they could afford plane tickets to the next destination. Not so different from what they still did, except now they took their very fancy house with them when they moved.

Enjoying the perks of their newfound fortune, and sharing joy with as many other people as possible, held far more value to them than appearances.

With that said, his two best friends had somehow managed to snag a pair of the hottest, toughest, smartest women he’d ever met. More miraculously, it had nothing to do with their wealth. Their constant kissy faces, shared intimacy, and genuine affection were starting to make Tosin think he might have to change his greatest ambition from becoming Aquaman into something slightly more…
domestic
.

Otherwise he’d end up kicking it with Captain Alex and Banks—the manager of the Divemaster Project and the larger Banks Foundation, which consisted of the rest of Archer’s charitable holdings—when he’d reached the confirmed bachelor stage in another decade or so. Not a terrible club to join if it came to that, he thought. Those two were pretty badass dudes.

Worse things could happen.

He should know, since trouble had accompanied their influx of cash. They’d pulled together to survive some hairy situations. Hopefully the crazy shit—you know, like murders, kidnappings, heists, and the rest of that ridiculous stuff—was behind them so they could simply relax from now on.

Out here, surrounded by a whole lot of not much for miles and miles and miles, Tosin was looking forward to some good old-fashioned sunning himself on the beach, dancing and drinking the night away, and maybe a hook up or two minus any drama.

Plus diving. Always diving.

The Cook Islands had some unique features he couldn’t wait to investigate, starting with the lagoon between the shore and the barrier reef. It was like one giant aquatic playground. The cerulean water he could now see clearly contrasted with the darker midnight of the deeper ocean beating against the coral. It couldn’t be more than ten feet deep in most places. It would be warm and teeming with sea life.

His version of paradise, for sure.

Overhead, the
whop whop whop
of a sleek helicopter taking off from the other side of the ship quickly faded as the transport zipped toward the verdant mountain that rose above the palm-dotted shore. He wished he’d planned ahead enough to grab a ride with Waverly, Archer’s girlfriend, who would be flying the staff over to start their provisioning runs.

Less than a minute later, Archer trotted toward Tosin as if his thoughts had summoned the guy. Miguel trailed behind, joining them on the deck as the ship settled into its anchorage and the shore tenders were prepared. Time to go.

“You heading into town?” Archer asked as he chucked a white linen shirt and Tosin’s shoes at his head.

He caught them with hardly any effort then nodded as he put them on. “It’s probably too much to hope they have a Five Guys, huh?”

It certainly didn’t look like a commercial sort of place from where he was standing. Large buildings or shopping malls didn’t exist here. Hell, they’d be lucky to find a supermarket. He didn’t truly mind, but he was serious about scoring some food.

Miguel snorted. He rubbed his flat stomach. “Yeah, but I could hit up a restaurant. You in?”

He looked to Archer, who cleared his throat before asking, “Could we make a pit stop first? While Waverly is busy helping the crew restock in the chopper, I thought we could check out the Punanga Nui Market. I hear they have a couple world renowned artists who sell their stuff there.”

“Who’d you hear that from?” Tosin narrowed his eyes as his friend didn’t quite meet his gaze. The Cooks were remote. Hardly anyone they knew had come here before and it certainly wasn’t something he could ever remember talking about with travelers they’d run into along the way.

“Google,” Archer admitted below his breath.

“You were looking up art galleries? Since when are you into that, Archie?” Miguel wondered.

Sure, the guy was technically a billionaire. He lived frugally, megayacht aside. They appreciated the beauty of nature above all else. The female form especially. Tosin would bet Archer couldn’t name any more fine artists than he could. Van Gogh, Picasso, Michelangelo, the basics.

“I thought
Waverly
might be into it. I—uh, want to surprise her. If something catches my eye, I mean. I’ll know it when I see it.” Archer turned away then motioned for them to hurry. “You coming or not? Let’s go.”

Tosin looked over at Miguel, who shrugged then said, “I’ve got nothing to do for a while anyway. Sabine is taking advantage of the better internet connectivity here to transmit her test results and hold a few videoconferences. Besides, we’ll probably stumble across someplace to eat along the way.”

“Sounds good.” Tosin strode side by side with his friend as they both studied Archer, who hustled to the tenders as if he needed to reserve a spot on his own damn boats.

What was up with that?