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head like a shield against the fiery bits of…something hailing down on her from above.
    The dinghy rocked up and down from a shock wave, but Ryan kept her sheltered long after the roaring in her ears faded. She shook her head, but a dull ring remained along with a steady, crackling noise not too far away. She blinked and peeked out around the shelter of the dinghy.
    “Oh my God,” she breathed, watching flames lick over the listing hull of
Neptune’s Revenge.
“It blew up,” she said, feeling numb. “It blew up.”
    Ryan shook his head. “It was blown up.”
    “Blown up? But who would do such a thing—” She cut herself off, because she knew. The diver she’d chased down — that’s why he attacked her.
    The outrage in Ryan’s face turned to concern. He touched her cheek, and when he drew back, his fingers were smeared with blood. Her blood?
    “Jesus, Mia, are you okay?”

Chapter Eight

    It was just a bloody nose caused by being flung against the oar of the dinghy, but nobody would listen. Not Ryan, whose eyes went wide as if Mia were showing the first sign of the bends. Not Lucky, either, or Hans, when they finally honed in on Ryan’s shouts and motored the launch over. The flow of blood slowed down by the time she wobbled onboard, but that didn’t stop Stanley from zooming in on her face. She might even have smacked the camera out of his hands if it weren’t for a comment that stopped her dead in her tracks.
    “We can make the evening news with this footage!” he exclaimed.
    Evening news. Unexpected camera footage. Of her.
    Bile rose in her throat along with memories. A whole lot of ugly memories.
    Something at her side moved, cougar-fast, and all the guests cried out.
    It was Ryan, snatching the camera out of Stanley’s hands. Ryan, leaning over Stanley like a very angry Zeus clutching a lightning bolt. Ryan, stepping to her rescue.
    Again.
    “Get. The. Camera. Out. Of. Her. Face.” He growled it, so low and menacing that everyone went still. Deathly still.
    A very silent minute ticked by, finally broken by Stanley’s squeaked, “Sorry.”
    Ryan muttered something and dropped to his knees in front of her, cupping her face with both hands.
    “No more diving for you,” he murmured, stroking her cheeks with both thumbs. “Not today. Not tomorrow. Not for the rest of the week.”
    “You can’t tell me what to do,” she peeped.
    He put on that
watch-it-lady
, New York cop thing he did so well and dabbed at her face with a towel. So tenderly that she had the sensation of bubbles expanding in her bloodstream — in a good way. The next thing she knew, she was drooping against his chest. And damn it, she couldn’t quite summon the willpower to pull away.
    All the way back to shore, Ryan watched her with eyes that swore murder and damnation at anyone who came close. Which included the ambulance crew when they checked her out, and the police, once she was finally proclaimed in good health and hauled to headquarters for questioning.
    Wait a minute. Questioning?
    She’d barely had a chance to change out of her swimwear before they brought her in, and there she was, blinking at two Dutch officers from across a Formica table. The man was tall and fair, the woman dark-haired and dark-skinned. Both of them studied Mia for some sign of…of a lie?
    “Wait a minute. I didn’t do anything,” she blurted.
    The female officer crossed her arms. “You were diving in the immediate area of
Neptune’s Revenge
right before it exploded.”
    “So was the man who attacked me with a knife,” she shot back.
    “The man you
say
attacked you with a knife.”
    “A man with dark eyes and a blue hooded wetsuit and UltraFlow fins…. Wait a minute.” Her heart thumped for a couple of beats before she managed to continue. “Why would I make something like that up?”
    The male officer cut back in. “No one is saying you made anything up. We’re just trying to gather the facts.”
    Facts. Like a ship blowing up