Chapter 27

Chapter Twenty-Seven

Kindra

A fter a few rounds of bowling in this heat, I'm more than ready to cool off, so we head toward the dock to participate in a water activity. After losing out on the first few days of the retreat, I'm eager to give the experience a real effort for what time I have left.

Ezra seems to have shaken off the funk he was in after lunch. I make a mental note to avoid the topics of sports and politics since they seem to sour his mood.

We board the fishing boat and travel below deck to change into wetsuits and scuba gear. Ice Pick, Maudlin Rose, and Grim are already dressed and waiting in the wheelhouse.

Before pulling out the wetsuits, Ezra gives me a crash course on scuba diving. I know more about the hobby than when I first boarded the boat, but I still don't think I know enough to participate. Then Ezra hands a neoprene suit to me, and I'm more afraid of the attire than the actual activity.

"How the hell do I squeeze into this?" I ask as I hold up the wetsuit. "Cat's smaller than me, and she wouldn't even fit in this thing. It looks like it was designed for a stick person."

Ezra holds up his suit. "They're meant to fit snug, pet. It creates an insulating barrier so that you don't freeze. It's also advised that you piss in the suit for warmth."

"Piss insulation. Got it."

He chuckles and helps me into my suit, and it's not that bad. No worse than wearing a waist trainer, which I tried in my late teens before I embraced my fuller figure.

Looking like demonic, emaciated Teletubbies, Ezra and I make our way up the stairs and onto the upper deck. Ezra shields his eyes from the sun and looks toward the wheelhouse. Grim gives us the thumbs up, and we motion back that we're ready to haul anchor and kill some Cattle.

Ice Pick comes down, and he and Ezra fool with the anchor while Maudlin Rose and I take a seat and watch. I steal glances at the silent woman beside me. Right now, covered head to toe in neoprene, she could pass as anyone's grandmother. You'd never know she's a highly sought-after serial killer who also enjoys sunbathing her butthole.

"It's very warm today," I say.

She smiles and nods.

"I hope the water cools us off."

More smiling and nodding from Rose.

"What did you think of?—"

She rises from her seat and walks away, heading toward the wheelhouse. Apparently, Ice Pick isn't the only one who can't read a room, as I've annoyed the poor woman to the point that she had to get away.

Ezra returns to my side, and I'm glad for his company after that awkward interaction.

"Why doesn't she speak?" I ask him.

"Maudlin Rose?"

I nod.

"Have you never noticed the scar on her neck?"

"No. Most times, she's been nude, so I didn't want to look too closely."

A deep laugh bubbles out of his chest and melts the crotch of my wetsuit. God, does he do anything that isn't sexy?

"She can't speak, love," he says. "Many of us have some sort of trauma that catapults us into this line of work. She's no different, though she isn't a discerning killer like you or me. She targets men, and having a penis is the only requirement."

"So what set her on her path?"

"She married at the tender age of fifteen, and the man was a monster in more ways than one. He tried to slit her throat in a drunk fit of rage soon after the honeymoon. She survived, but her vocal cords were too damaged to repair."

My hand rises to my throat. "Oh my god, that's horrible."

"It truly is. That's why we don't ask her any questions unless they have a yes or no answer."

"Well, fuck. That explains why she walked off. Now I feel like a shitbag."

He wraps a comforting arm around my shoulders and pulls me into him. "Don't worry. You didn't know, and she won't hold that against you. But that's why she sticks with Grim on these retreats. They have some weird sort of language. They can communicate without speaking."

"How beautiful and sad," I say. "At least they've found each other. Do they have a relationship outside of this?"

Ezra shrugs his shoulders. "I'm not entirely sure. They neither leave nor arrive together, so I'd say not."

I can't imagine finding someone who understands me in a way that no one else does, then only seeing them for a few days each year. Then I look at Ezra and realize I might be forced to imagine it.

We haven't talked much about what happens when we leave the island. I'm not sure what he wants or expects, and I'm too afraid to ask. If he says he just wants this to be a fun fling, I'll be heartbroken because I want more. I didn't at first, but now...

He has me rethinking everything.

I've pictured myself in a wedding dress, for fuck's sake! I've even picked out what Cat—my only bridesmaid—will wear, along with what I'll say to convince her to walk down the aisle with Bennet. I've imagined a house, a dog, and many happy nights spent before a roaring fire as we wear nothing but the clothes God gave us. No kids, though. We can't raise children while we're busy concealing our favorite hobby.

I'm only missing one important thing, and that's Ezra's input. He's the main character in my fantasies, after all.

The boat comes to a stop before I can muster the courage to broach the topic. Ezra places a chaste kiss on my lips before he and Ice Pick begin their anchor duty.

Grim descends from the wheelhouse and joins us on the deck. He's no longer wearing his wetsuit. Instead, he's stripped down to his beloved Speedo.

"Rose and I have decided we'll stay on the boat while you swim," he says. "We may join you in the water, but we may not. Have fun."

He turns and retreats up the steps, but not before I feel like I'm the reason they're staying behind. I need to make this up to Rose somehow.

Ezra, sensing my downward spiral, sidles up to me and leans close to my ear. "This isn't because of you," he says. "To be frank, they're probably staying behind to fuck."

Images of their naked bodies slamming together rush unbidden through my head, and I feel a bit queasy. I'll chalk it up to seasickness if he asks.

"Let's just get in the water," I say.

Once we're weighed down with gear, we head to a lower deck and make our way to the rear of the boat. A white buoy bobs in the wake nearby. I can only assume this marks the activity area.

Needing no assistance, Ice Pick covers his face with a diving mask, grips a machete to his chest, and drops back-first into the water. Despite his large size, he doesn't float back to the surface. In fact, in the span of only a few seconds, he's disappeared from view.

Ezra fiddles with the tanks strapped to my back, assuring everything is connected and working properly. "Just remember that you shouldn't hold your breath. We won't be very deep, but just keep breathing, especially when we're coming to the surface."

"What, will my lungs explode or something?" I laugh as he comes around to face me.

He doesn't so much as crack a smile.

"Ezra? Will my fucking lungs explode?"

"We aren't going that deep, pet."

He grips my hand and tries to lead me to the boat's edge, but my feet are massive lead weights.

"I don't know if I want to do this anymore." I back up a few steps. "Maybe I should stay on the boat. You know, in case there's an emergency."

Instead of laughing at me and saying I'm being ridiculous, or shrugging his shoulders and leaving me to listen to the elderly love making, he pulls me into him. His powerful arms wrap around me, and he places a kiss on my head.

"We don't have to do anything you aren't comfortable doing. Besides, if we want to drown some Cattle, we could always have Jim set something up at the pool."

He inadvertently digs a knife into my pride. I'm not a wuss who needs a kiddie pool set up for playtime. I just don't want my lungs to, you know, explode.

I take a deep breath and pull away from him. "No. I'm fine. Is there anything else I need to know aside from everything you've already told me?"

"Just stick close to me. I won't let anything hurt you. I promise."

Drawing the mask over my face, I nod. "Let's fucking do this."

I don't sound nearly as cool as I did in my head. The mask pinches my nose and gives my voice a nasal quality.

"Breathe in and out regularly," he reminds me as he lowers his mask. "I'll be right with you. If you panic, just give me the signal."

I step to the edge of the short deck and take a deep breath. Small whitecaps break near the boat. Overhead, the sky is a cloudless blue, broken only by the occasional offshore bird who dares to venture out this way. I suppose this is a beautiful day to die if I must.

I turn to face Ezra.

"You can do this," he says. "I've only known you for a short time, but it's long enough to know you can do anything you put your mind to. You're stubborn as an ass and as bold as an Irishman after a few pints."

I close my eyes and place the regulator into my mouth as Ezra steps toward me. His warm lips press against my forehead. Well, the sliver of forehead peeking between the top of the mask and the wetsuit's hood.

I assume the position, which is this weird crouch with my back to the water. Now I'm supposed to simultaneously lean forward and fall backward at the same time. Gripping the regulator with my left hand and the back of the mask strap with my right, I drop into the water.

Water surrounds me, and I swim a few feet away, pop to the surface, and give Ezra the thumbs up so that he knows he can safely enter the water without landing on top of me. He gives me a wave and steps into the water instead of doing the lame backward roll he had me do.

Floating at the surface, I wait for him to emerge in front of me. Seconds drag on and turn to minutes. Surely nothing happened to him...

I dip my face below the water and peer into the depths, right as a cloud of blood rushes toward me.