Diving with a Hammerhead: Beneath Aquatica's Waves, #3

By Charlie Richards

Solomon Lynch figured his decision to help his boss’s son escape from under his dominating thumb would cost him his job. Instead, it nearly costs him his life. He’s jumped and beaten in an alley, but Solomon has no delusions about who sent the men. He only lives because his ropes weren’t tied tight enough, and he manages to escape the cinderblock that was meant to send him swimming with the fishes.

He doesn’t remember much after that, but rousing in an unfamiliar place is a mixed blessing. Doctor Anthony Keller is hawt! Solomon realizes instantly that the doc returns his attraction, but his instincts tell him that Anthony is hiding something. Besides that, how can he drag the handsome man into his screwed-up life, a life that could be cut short any minute by a vindictive rich guy?

• Language: English
• Publisher: eXtasy Books Inc
• Release date: Feb 23, 2018
• ISBN: 9781487418861

Book preview

Dedication

Life is like the ocean, it can be calm or still, and rough or rigid, but in the end it is always beautiful.

~Unknown

Chapter One

Solomon Lynch nodded as he took the pink slip. Well, the paper wasn’t actually pink, but it meant the same thing. The sheath of papers folded and tucked into an envelope meant he was out of a job.

Damn.

Still, Solomon couldn’t say he was sorry about it or even surprised. He’d been a security guard at Armando Whitney’s estate for just over six months. Having witnessed the man’s overbearing, controlling nature when focused on his business was one thing, but he’d seen that same domination in regards to Armando’s son, Braylon.

When Solomon had seen that Braylon was tearing away from the estate like a bat out of hell, he’d let him go... against orders. He’d been instructed to secure the gate and had refused. Even knowing it was going to cost him his job, Solomon had opened the gate, instead.

Please clear out your locker and leave the estate as soon as possible.

Solomon rose from his seat before Stiles Gribble’s desk. The man was Armando’s head of security, bodyguard, and chauffeur all rolled into one. He wondered just how much Armando paid the guy to be at his beck and call.

Not enough.

In Solomon’s opinion, it could never be enough. After getting out of the military, no longer under the thumb of Uncle Sam, he’d vowed never again to have to always follow orders without question. Guess he should have thought about that before taking a job for a control freak.

Hindsight. Just swell.

With the envelope of papers in hand, Solomon exited Stiles’s office. He strode swiftly through the back halls to an employee lounge. A couple ex-coworkers were sitting at the table—Jim and Thanos. Both men smirked at him, and Jim’s expression held a definite hint of malice.

It seemed his actions had made the rounds of the place. Most of the men were actually really loyal to Armando. It just went to show that money could buy a man... and Armando had plenty of cash to do just that.

Solomon wasn’t one of them, nor had he ever tried to be.

Ignoring the pair, Solomon crossed to his locker. He tucked the envelope under his arm so he could spin the dial on the combination lock. Just as his lock clicked, releasing, Solomon heard both men’s chairs scrape across the floor.

As Solomon opened his locker, he peered over his shoulder, verifying where Jim and Thanos were headed. He spotted them standing and staring at him... right about the time he felt something spray across his face. Both men burst out laughing.

Peering into his locker, then down at himself, Solomon took in the blue liquid coating everything. He ground his teeth as he realized it was a paint bomb. It had obviously been rigged to go off when he opened his locker.

How juvenile. What are we? In high school?

Without sparing either man a glance, Solomon grabbed his paint-splattered black-leather jacket. He ignored the mess on his shirt and pants, flopping it over his shoulder. After he’d picked up his small duffel bag, he tucked the damp envelope into a side pocket, then headed out of the space.

Jim opened his mouth to say something, but Solomon leveled a cold glare at the man, shutting him up.

Solomon rounded the edge of the estate house to the covered employee parking lot where his motorcycle waited. Opening the left saddlebag, he pulled out a plastic bag left over from a trip to the beach. He placed his blue-covered items into it, then tucked them inside and closed the saddlebag.

Crossing to the opposite side, Solomon opened that bag. From inside he pulled a couple shop towels. He wiped down his face as best he could, then placed a clean towel over his hair, effectively protecting the inside of his half-helmet, which he placed on his head.

Finally ready, Solomon drove home, looking forward to a scalding shower.

Hours later, Solomon hung his freshly scrubbed leather jacket on a hanger. He grimaced, uncertain how it would look once dry. Still, he’d given it his best shot.

Solomon figured he could have complained about the juvenile prank. Somehow, though, he doubted that much would have come of it. Armando’s people had it in for him... probably instigated by the rich man himself.

Armando had been sitting in on the meeting when Stiles had asked for Solomon’s explanation of how the gate had opened. The look on the rich bastard’s face when Solomon had clearly stated, I opened it so Braylon could leave, would be forever etched into his mind.

It had been a look of absolute rage mixed with hate as Armando coldly stated, So you defied my orders on purpose.

Damn, I’m glad I no longer have to work for that asshole.

Since Solomon no longer had to work the next day, he decided to get some food for a picnic on the beach. He might even go surfing. Making a promise to check the weather when he returned home from the store, Solomon grabbed his wallet, stuffed it into his back pocket, and headed toward the door.

Solomon just remembered to grab the envelope off his counter. He’d already filled out his 401k transfer paperwork. For some reason, he would feel so much more comfortable once he’d completely broken away from any company Armando was associated with.

To that end, Solomon dropped the envelope in his apartment building’s outgoing mail slot before heading outside and walking in the direction of the nearby corner market.

Shoving his hands into the pockets of his zip-up hoodie, Solomon strode swiftly down the street. As he walked past an alleyway, he heard the unmistakable sound of flesh smacking flesh. He paused, peering into the gloom.

Huh. When did it get so late?

With the setting sun casting long shadows on the street, Solomon could only see the silhouettes. There were two people bent over a third figure, who appeared hunched on the ground. After a second of hesitation, Solomon started toward them.

Hey! Solomon called. What’s going on here? What’d that fella ever do to you?

The man closest to Solomon straightened and turned, but he still couldn’t make out his features since he had his jacket’s hood up. The second man rounded the guy on the ground, so he stood beside the first. Both men cracked their