Free Deep Fathom by James Rollins

toward him. “Herbal tea. Try it. It’ll help you relax.”
    He leaned over the steaming mug and sniffed. The medicinal tang was sharp after smoking his cigar. “I’ll pass.”
    Lisa pushed the mug closer. “Drink it. Doctor’s orders.”
    Jack rolled his eyes and picked up the cup. He took a few sips to placate her. It tasted as bad as it smelled. “Needs sugar,” he said.
    â€œSugar? And taint my healing herbs?” Lisa feigned shock and nudged the ashtray. “As it is, you have enough bad habits.”
    He took another sip and stood. “I should check on Charlie. See how the tests are going.”
    Lisa turned, her lips firm, her eyes hard. “Jack, Charlie and the gold aren’t going anywhere. Go to your cabin, shut the drapes, and try to sleep.”
    â€œIt will only—”
    She held up a hand. Her expression softened, as did her words. “Listen, Jack. We all know what’s got you so anxious. Everyone’s been walking on eggshells around you.”
    He opened his mouth to protest.
    Lisa stopped him with a touch. She stood, parted his robe, and raised a hand to his chest. Jack did not flinch at such casual intimacy. Lisa had seen him naked many times. On such a small ship, privacy was limited. But more than that, years ago, when Lisa first arrived onboard, the two of them had played at being lovers. Eventually it became clear their feelings were more physical than heartfelt. Without a word, their trysts had eventually ended, settling into a warm companionship. More than friends, less than lovers.
    â€œLisa…”
    She traced a finger down from his collarbone, trailing through the coarse black hair on his chest. Her finger was warm on his skin. But as it moved below his right nipple, the feeling vanished. Jack knew why. Across the middle of his chest lay a swath of trailing scars. Old burns. The scars were pale against his bronzed skin. Numb and dead.
    Jack shivered as he felt Lisa’s touch return, past the scarring, just above his navel. Her finger traveled still lower and crooked into the waistband of his trunks. She pulled him nearer. She whispered, “Let it go, Jack. The past can’t be changed. Only forgiven and forgotten.”
    Gently pushing her hand away, he stepped back. Those were easy words for Lisa to say, a girl who had led acharmed life in Southern California.
    She stared up at him, her eyes slightly wounded. “You weren’t found at fault, Jack. You were even offered the goddamn Medal of Honor.”
    â€œI turned it down,” he said, swinging away. He headed toward the door. The shuttle accident was a private matter, a subject he did not want to share and discuss. Not with anyone. He had enough of that from the Navy’s psychiatrists. Free of the pilothouse, he hurried down the steps to the boat deck.
    Â 
    Her heart heavy, Lisa watched the large man retreat out the door.
    In the corner, Elvis had lifted his head from the bed, and watched his master storm out. The big dog grumbled under his breath, a throaty complaint.
    Lisa settled into the pilot’s seat, still warm from its previous occupant. “My words exactly, Elvis.” She sagged into the chair. Though their fiery relationship had died to ash, Lisa could still touch the warmth of her old feelings: Jack’s hard body holding her tight, the heat of his mouth on her breasts and neck, his lovemaking both rough and tender. He was an attentive lover, one of the best she had ever experienced. However, strong hands and legs couldn’t build a relationship by themselves. It took an even stronger heart. Jack loved her. She never doubted this, but there was a part of Jack’s heart that was as dead and numb as the scars on his chest. She had never found a way to heal this old wound—and doubted she ever could. Jack would not let it heal.
    Lisa reached for the mug of herbal tea and dumped its contents into the trashcan. She had