Sea Haven 01 - Water Bound

onto her face to cover her usually direct stare, she climbed back aboard her boat. For some reason she could look straight at Lev, and strangely, the way she looked at him hadn’t bothered him as it would most people.
    Shrugging, she pushed off with her boat and swung around the other boats tied up to the dock to bring hers under the platform. The hoist was already in position and Ralph lowered the hooks for her to attach her nets to the scale.
    “You came in early,” he called to her. “I just got here.”
    She shrugged.
    “No one else went out today,” Ralph said, scribbling on paper and attaching the name of her boat to the white totes he filled with her urchins.
    Rikki was relieved at that. She liked the other divers, and the thought of that monstrous wave running them over was frightening.
    “Saw you had company. Something wrong?”
    She stiffened but forced a casual shrug. “No,” she muttered after a long awkward silence. The men were used to her sullen answers and rarely tried engaging with her.
    She turned quickly away, leaving him to deal with the bins himself.
    Normally she helped, but she didn’t want to chance him asking her any more questions. She drove her boat back to her berth and scrubbed it down meticulously as she always did, losing herself in the task while the water lapped at the Sea Gypsy , rocking her gently. She focused completely, not allowing anything into her mind but the sheer feeling of her boat, the sky and gulls surrounded by water. She loved the way the droplets of water glistened on the deck like diamonds, prisms of glittering colors, each unique 50

    and beautiful. Sometimes she got caught up in looking at them for long periods of time. She had to force her mind to stay focused on finishing as quickly as possible, and it took discipline not to disappear into the routine and flow as she usually did.
    Each net was put away carefully, her hoses rolled in the way she had to roll them, a loose, precise circle that appealed to her. No one ever touched her equipment. They didn’t put it away exactly as it was supposed to go, which was another reason she didn’t have a tender on her boat. But how could she explain how uncomfortable it was to Blythe—people touching her things and meaning to do well, but only making her crazy by not putting things exactly where they should be. There was a right way, and no one seemed able to comprehend that.
    She sighed and pushed her glasses on her nose. She’d stalled as long as she could. Her boat and equipment were as clean as she could get them. She had inspected her air compressor and the hoses, and now, if there wasn’t a dead body on the seat of her truck—yuck—she would have to face the music and do something with him. Better the dead body. If none of her family was home, she’d be stuck with him, and she had absolutely no idea what to do with him because no one— no one— came into her house while she was in it.
    Blythe was the only person she let in and she couldn’t be inside while Blythe was. She pushed her thumbnail into her mouth and chewed on it, frowning as she made her way back to the truck. She stood outside for a moment, drawing in air, steeling herself to be in such close confines. He was in her truck. That was almost as bad as him being in her home. She was beginning to wish she’d never pulled him out of the water.
    Biting her lip hard, she yanked open the door. Lev exploded out of the blanket, wrapping both hands around her neck and pinning her head to the seat. She couldn’t move, couldn’t breathe. Fury shook her before panic set in. His fingers were like steel pins, cutting off her airway. Her world began to go black and small stars burst in her brain. Just as suddenly, he let her go.
    She slipped to the ground, coughing, holding her throat, gasping desperately for air.
    Her glasses had come off. When she could finally breathe, she glared up at him, her eyes meeting his. He looked more confused than ever—not remorseful, confused. And damn it all, she was the one with no social graces, and at least she knew enough to know that he should be feeling tons of remorse.
    “Get the hell out of my truck,” she snarled, reaching to snatch her dark glasses and shove them back on her face. She avoided rubbing at the marks she knew would be on her throat. It felt swollen and tight. He could have 51

    easily killed her. She recognized that he could have in seconds. The knowledge didn’t make her any less