Beneath Still Waters. Alex Archer
Present Day
With her heart pounding, Annja Creed stood balanced precariously on the edge of the cliff and stared at the gleaming water far below her.
She could hear the shouts of those following her up the tunnel through the rocks and knew that they would catch up to her soon. She didn’t want to be here when they did. She had just a few minutes at best to decide what she was going to do.
Not that I have all that many options, she thought. She couldn’t turn back; doing so would only bring her face-to-face with those coming up behind her, and there was no way she would be able to get through them in the narrow confines of the tunnel. Nor could she stay where she was, for the ledge was narrow and there would be no room for her once the others arrived. Their sheer numbers alone would force her over the edge.
She glanced over the side of the cliff again; it certainly seemed like a long way down.
Did she really want to do this?
The voices were closer now, so close that they had to be just around the last bend in the tunnel. She knew that she had run out of time.
Annja had to make a decision, and she had to make it now.
Do or die, she thought. Paul did it. So can you.
She glanced once more toward the water below her, crossed her fingers in the universal plea for good luck and, taking a deep breath, stepped off the edge just as the others emerged from the rocky tunnel.
Annja’s stomach jumped into her throat as she plunged toward the water, but at the same time she felt the thrill of doing something she’d never done before rush through her frame. It wasn’t every day that she leapt off a fifty-foot cliff into the ocean below, and she relished the feeling of being so alive in the midst of that moment, even as she dropped like a stone. As the surface of the water loomed nearer, she pulled her legs together, pointed her feet downward and pressed her hands flat against her bare thighs, tucking her arms against her torso. By the time she hit the water, she was perfectly aligned to strike the surface and she did so with barely a splash, cleaving the water and disappearing into its depths as if she was born to be there.
The crystal blue water was warm and inviting, and she felt invigorated by its touch. She let the fall carry her down until she began to slow, then with powerful kicks and strokes of her arms she headed back toward the sunlight above. When she broke the surface of the water she found her companion and new love interest, journalist and photographer Paul Krugmann, treading water nearby and waiting for her.
“Well?” he asked.
“We have to do that again!” she said, and his smile matched her own.
They were in Jamaica, cliff diving at the world-famous limestone cliffs on Negril’s west side. They had had lunch at Rick’s, a cliff-side café that gave them a good view of the divers nearby, and a short time later had decided to try the jump themselves. Neither was a stranger to taking risks. If the locals could handle it, so could they.
It turned out to be just as exciting and entertaining as they’d thought it would be. They made three more jumps together, each one as exhilarating as the last, before their dive “instructor” waved them aboard the waiting boat for the short ride back to their beachside resort on the other side of the island. Paul was in Jamaica on business, sent there to do a photo montage piece on the resort where they were staying. He’d asked her to join him, saying they’d make a holiday of it, and she’d agreed. It had sounded as if it would be fun, and that was something she was sorely in need of.
Annja had just gotten back from a trip to Europe on behalf of Chasing History’s Monsters, the cable television show she co-hosted each week. The show focused on the point where history intersected with myth and legend, and had taken her all over the world as its status as a cult favorite among the intended audience grew. Annja wasn’t as popular as the show’s other host, Kristie Chatham—for she tended to be more serious, focusing on the historical and scientific issues behind each episode’s central theme, never mind that Annja had fewer “surprise” wardrobe malfunctions while filming—but that was just fine with her. She’d worked too hard to build her reputation to throw it away for ratings and other such nonsense, much to the continued disappointment of her producer, Doug Morrell.
Chasing History’s Monsters had Annja on the road quite a bit during any given year, but she could live with that. She made use of the time on location to pursue her other major passion, archaeology. Just as her reputation as a television host had grown over the past few years, so, too, had her success as an archaeologist.
She’d made some startling discoveries over the past few years, some so amazing that she had been forced to keep news of them to herself. Those that she could talk about had cemented her reputation as both an adventurer and a scholar. She’d developed a network of museum contacts the world over as a result and was often called in to assess the provenance and authenticity of items the museums had recently acquired or was intending to purchase. More than once she’d saved a museum director from falling victim to a clever forgery, and the good will she’d generated had come back to her twofold.
But all work and no play made Annja very cranky, especially given her other, more esoteric duties as bearer of Joan of Arc’s sword, and she’d impulsively agreed to accompany Paul to the Caribbean.
She and Paul had been dating for the past six months or so, which might not be much for him but was the longest stretch of time for any relationship she could remember in, well, forever it seemed. So far, things had been light and easy, which was probably the very reason it had been going so well. Annja’s job could take her away at a moment’s notice for weeks at a time, something few of her former boyfriends understood or wanted to deal with, but Paul was different. He lived the same sort of life, traveling at the whim of the clients who paid for his journalistic services, so he wasn’t the type who would begrudge her the time away when work came calling.
Annja glanced over at him as the boat chugged toward the resort, admiring his sun-bleached hair and rugged good looks. He had a strong but wiry build and was deeply tanned from spending so much of his time outdoors. He wasn’t hard on the eyes, which didn’t hurt any, and so far had been both thoughtful and considerate in their time together.
Who knew? Maybe she’d found one worth keeping this time around.
She laughed aloud at the thought and, hearing her, Paul looked over and grinned in return.
Yep. So far, so good.
The boat took them around the island and up to the long wooden dock that stretched into the bay in front of the resort. They disembarked with the rest of the passengers, followed the group down the length of the dock to the shore, and then headed up the beach toward the entrance to the hotel. Annja’s long hair and slim, athletic, bikini-clad body caught the attention of more than a few of the men on the beach, but she barely noticed. She was used to people appreciating her for her beauty or simply recognizing her from the show, so being the focus of attention wasn’t all that novel anymore. In fact, sometimes it could be a real pain in the butt.
They entered the lobby, the cool stone floor beneath their bare feet a welcome respite from the hot sun outside, and headed for the elevator. Once inside, Paul punched the buttons for the fourth and fifth floors, where their respective rooms were. Annja liked the fact that when planning the trip Paul hadn’t automatically assumed they would share a room, even though they were romantically attached. It was one of the things she appreciated about him—his willingness to give her room and let her take things at her own pace.
As the numbers on the floor panel ticked upward, Paul turned to her and said, “An hour to rest and change and then dinner?”
“Sounds good to me.”
The elevator stopped at his floor. As the doors opened he gave her a quick kiss and then stepped out into the hall as Annja continued upward.
Paul had gotten her an oversized corner suite with an incredible ocean view. After arriving, she stood in front of the window for a short while, simply admiring the