Solange scrambled up the rest of the steps, pushing open the planked door to the gear room. She hated this place. A narrow ledge, not two feet wide, circled the top of the round windmill. There was no railing, no protection. One misstep, and you could fall right into the massive, grinding teeth of the gear turned by the windmill blades.
An ugly thought coiled around her brain. If Ana had the scepter …
She had to hide. Wait it out. Ana would leave if she thought Solange wasn’t here. That main floor was dark. She might never see that scepter on the table.
But if she did … Solange needed a solution fast.
She followed the ledge to the door that led outside, the only way to get to the three giant sweeps that turned constantly in the wind. She could hide here, watch through the door, see if Ana had—
Whoosh! The giant blade spun right in front of her, the force almost knocking her over. She pressed herself against the rounded stone, the chill seeping through her, too terrified to look back to see if Ana followed her up there.
“Senhora Bettencourt!”
She had. Solange remained silent, willing the young nurse to just go away.
“Senhora Bettencourt!” The door opened slowly, and the first thing Solange saw was white velvet.
“Senhora! Do not do this!” Her brown eyes were full of sympathy, no doubt certain she’d found her boss about to commit suicide again. It wouldn’t have been the first time. She held up the scepter in the velvet. “Where did you get this? Do you know what value it is? There is a tale of this, a folklore!” She practically quivered with excitement.
“What are you talking about?”
“You found this? Here in the mill? It is….” She lifted it as though making an offering to the gods.
“Mine.” Solange took it from her.
“Oh, no, ma’am. This belongs to Portugal!” She let it go, but only because she needed to put a hand on Solange to coax her back inside. “There are stories, oh, madame, wait until I tell you what you’ve found. Here! On your farm! You will be famous!” She beamed in the moonlight. “You will be the most famous person in all of Portugal. This will go into museums. It will travel the world!”
But that wasn’t what Solange wanted.
“Come,” Ana said, affection and excitement making her eyes dance. “Come back down, Senhora. You have been doing so well for months. You don’t need to do this.”
As Ana turned, urging her inside, Solange gripped the wrapped scepter, nudging the huge diamond handle behind Ana. “No—I don’t.”
The push was hard, furious, and full of strength Solange didn’t know she had. Ana gasped, reached out for balance, and when she did, Solange slammed the giant diamond into the young woman’s back with enough force to topple her.
For a split second Ana seemed to hang in the air, just long enough to look right in Solange’s eyes and realize what was happening to her. Then she plunged forward and the giant windmill sweep whooshed by with enough force to blow her off the side, her blouse billowing as she fell into the air, her scream lost in the wind as she tumbled down, down, down to her death.
The sound was lost in the crashing waves and the constant, aching groan of the windmill gears.
Solange cradled the scepter. All that power.
CHAPTER
FIVE
THE TAP ON the lab door surprised Con, and so did the stab of disappointment that it wasn’t Lizzie. Was she still out with Paxton?
Alita lifted the corner of a napkin covering a plate, offering it to him along with a slow, sweet smile. “It would be a crime for you to miss Brady’s Bacardi Double Chocolate cake just because you’re babysitting the treasure.”
“That was thoughtful of you.” He took the plate and she raised a brow, obviously waiting for an invitation. He’d had long chats with Kenny and Walt Brubaker today but only a few minutes with Dave the divemaster in his effort to infiltrate the crew. Guess it was time for Diver Barbie. “Have you had any? I’ll share.”
Dimples deepened. “I hoped you’d ask, since I’m sacrificing the last piece for you. I thought Walt would stab me with his fork when I reached for it.”
Con stepped to the side to let her in, his gaze sliding over the skin-tight jeans and T-shirt. “I’m getting the impression Brady is the most beloved crewmember on the boat.”
“He is a masterful chef,” she said, breezing in and giving the lab a visual sweep. “And he only bakes dessert when we make a great recovery, as motivation.” She turned and trained deep blue eyes on him, the dimples still at work, a lock of dark hair sliding over her cheeks. “Where is it?”
That didn’t take long. “Locked up.”
She pointed to the cake. “That should buy me a look, don’t you think?”
“I don’t know.” He pulled out a stool from the center table and offered it to her, taking the one next to it. “Haven’t tasted it yet.”
She slowly ran one finger over the icing, gathering a clump on the tip, then lifted it to his mouth with a look of pure sex. “Then have some.”
He took the lick she offered and managed not to make a face. He didn’t like sweets, and he didn’t like pushy women. But he’d play her game, because his job wasn’t quite done here.
“Very good.”
She smiled as if he’d paid her the compliment, and not the cake. “So, I hear you were a Navy SEAL.”
He’d told Kenny, who’d been in the Navy. “Word travels fast.”
“On a boat with a dozen people in each other’s face 24/7? You bet it does. How long have you been diving?”
“A while. How about you?”
“A few years.”
He took a small bite of cake, avoiding the frosting. “What’s your background?” He knew, of course. Dropped out of the University of Miami from a marine biology program, married a boat captain and started diving, divorced him a year later, kept diving.
“I’m a marine biologist.”
And a liar. “Who dives for treasure.”
“Hey, someone around here has to understand the environment. I know, I don’t look like a marine biologist. But you do look like a Navy SEAL.”
“I wasn’t one for very long,” he said, never comfortable with the idea that people thought he had some long and illustrious career as a SEAL. “How’d you get into diving?”
“The way all women get into a lifestyle change.”
“A guy?”
She shrugged. “Of course. But he’s gone.”
“And you’re still diving.”
“It’s an addiction, as you know.” She tapped the tabletop with her nail. “So let me see it. It’s not against the rules for me to look at it.”
He pushed off the stool to unlock the cabinet. “Lot of rules on this boat, aren’t there?”
“When Judd Paxton’s signing the paychecks, we follow the rules.” She came up next to him, letting her body brush his, her smile flirtatious. “Most of them, anyway.”
He opened the steel-encased door and took out the medallion that had spent the afternoon soaking in a vinegar solution and under the ministrations of Charlotte Gorman’s well-trained hands. The coral was gone from the gold, which gleamed, and the jewels were almost perfect.
“Charlotte thinks it needs some more cleaning, but …” He angled it for her to see. “It is a beauty.”
She nodded, her eyes widening appreciatively. “And worth a ton.”
“Have you seen anything like it before?” he asked.
“Nope.” She ran her finger over the crucifix. “Makes you wonder just what we’re searching for here.”
“Doesn’t it, though? What do you think?”
She shrugged, still studying the artifact. “We’re too far out for the 1715 or 1733 fleets, so something independent, probably. Something that didn’t go down in a hurricane, or it would be closer to shore.”
“Any ideas?” he asked, holding her gaze, knowing the eye contact might open her up to talk.
“Not a one. I’m just here for the money
.”
He inched away. “I thought it was an addiction.”
“I’m addicted to money.” She laughed, leaning into the space he’d left between them. “Is that something you find unattractive?”
“Not passing opinion on it.” He returned the medallion to the cloth bedding Charlotte had made for it and reached to close the cabinet door, but Alita put her hand in his arm, stopping him.
“You need to see it again?” he asked.
“I just….” She leaned over and let her shoulder press into his arm. “I kind of want a picture of it.”
Another one with pictures? “No can do, sweetheart. That would be against Mr. Paxton’s rules.”
“Screw Mr. Paxton.”
“I suppose you could try that and see if he lets you take pictures.”
She put a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Is that your price?”
Con spun at the sound of a shuffled foot and a tap that pushed open the entry that he’d left ajar.
Lizzie stood there, a knowing smile on her face. “That didn’t take long.”
For a moment, he just looked at her, a sensation kicking him that was exactly the opposite of what he’d felt five minutes ago when Alita arrived.
“As you know so well,” he said, closing and locking the cabinet door, “things aren’t always what they seem.”
“Well, I seem to be intruding, so see ya later.” She nodded at Alita and turned to leave, but he reached her in two steps, getting hold of her elbow as she stepped into the hall.
“Wait.”
Surprise darkened her amber eyes. “What?”
“How was your excursion?” Dumb question, but he didn’t want her to leave.
She smiled, almost as though she got that, but behind him Alita cleared her throat and Lizzie’s gaze slid past his shoulder.
“We’re just about done,” he said softly.
She flicked a playful finger at his unbuttoned shirt. “I see that.”
“Don’t leave.” He still held her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I want to talk to you.”
She slipped out of his grip, her gaze skimming his face, stopping at his mouth, then going back to his eyes. “Stop by later.”
“I will.”
“On one condition,” she added. “Bring your phone.” She mouthed the last three words so Alita didn’t hear.
She headed away slow enough that he could watch the sway of her faded jeans, a siren call of a backside he’d already seen in the flesh, and wanted to see more.
He turned his attention to Alita, wondering how quickly he could get rid of her.
She was on his makeshift cot, thumbing through The Odyssey.
“Color me impressed, Constantine.”
“Don’t be.”
She laughed, leaning back on two hands, letting her sizable rack jut forward, a toss of thick black hair completing the come-on.
He reached for Alita’s hand and her eyes sparked, but then she realized he was helping her up from the cot. “And I need to get back to reading.”
“You’re kicking me out.” There was a note of surprise in her voice. She probably didn’t get turned down too often.
“Thanks for the cake.”
She gave his hand a little squeeze and sent a regretful look at the closet where he’d locked the medallion, confirming that she wanted it, or a picture of it, as much or more than she wanted him.
Could she be the traitor?
“Hope you’re just as lucky tomorrow,” she said as she headed out. “Brady said he’ll make strawberry cheesecake.”
“I’ll do my best, but Lizzie found that medallion.”
“Yeah, right.”
“You don’t believe me?”
“Lizzie never finds anything,” she said, stepping out into the hall. “Since we’ve been on this dive, she comes up empty-handed every time. Then she goes down with you and, bam, she brings up the best recovery of the trip so far. You were a sweetheart to let her have credit for it.”
“Maybe I’m good luck.”
Or maybe she wasn’t showing her finds to the crew. Maybe she was slipping them into her weight belt when no one was watching. And then maybe she was contacting someone who secretly met her at night and she handed them off. Maybe he’d better get up to her bunk, now.
“Well, I’d like to dive with you tomorrow,” Alita said. “So I can rub up against some of your luck.”
“That’s up to Dave, I suppose.”
Even after he closed the door, he could hear her footsteps on the stairs. He waited long enough for the sound to disappear, for Alita to go into her bunk, or maybe up to the main deck where some of the crew was watching a movie and eating cake.
He retrieved Lizzie’s phone from the hiding place, then slid it into the pocket of his jeans next to his own.
Locking the entry with a new dead bolt he’d installed, not bothering with shoes, he moved soundlessly up the stairs to the quarters deck, paused to make sure the hall was empty, then took a few long strides to her door.
One tap, and it was open.
“That was fast,” she said, then she peeked around him. “Or did you bring your new girlfriend?”
He grinned. “Stop, or I’ll think you’re jealous.”
She rolled her eyes and stepped back, letting him in.
“You cleaned up,” he said, looking around. It wasn’t exactly pristine, but he could see more surfaces than before.
“That’s why I need your phone,” she said, holding her hand out. “I lost mine. I need to use yours to call it. And don’t even think about giving me shit for having one. We all signed papers, and I bet half the crew has them.”
“Who’s so important that you’d trust me with your secret?” he asked, pulling out his phone.
“My sister. I have to check on her.” The answer was guileless, and, if his gut was correct, honest.
“What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?”
“She’s alone, that’s all.”
“How old is she?”
“Twenty-six.”
He laughed. “And no babysitter?”
She snagged the phone he offered and dropped on the bunk. “I just like to talk to her every day. We’re all we’ve got now.”
“You can call her from that, if you like.”
“That’s okay. I just want to find my own phone.”
Normally he’d have dialed, not wanting her to see how advanced the phone was, but he needed her to look at the keypad. When she did, he surreptitiously slipped her cell phone from his pocket and flicked it under the blanket.
In a second, the bed vibrated with a soft hum.
“Oh, thank God,” she said on a sigh of relief. “How in the heck did it get under there?”
“You should try making your bed.”
“We all have our flaws.” She lifted the sheets and blankets and dove halfway under them as she sought the source of the vibrating. She glanced up from the sheet cave, shaking her head a little as she looked at his exposed chest. “Well, some of us do, anyway.”
He smiled at the compliment. “I have plenty of flaws, believe me.”
“Faults, maybe.” She whipped her hand up, victoriously producing the phone. “But flaws? You have none. You’re great looking, have a charming personality, an excellent diver, and you share the wealth and credit with your crewmembers. You even worried about my burns before yours last night.”
“Yet you were ready to think the worst of me when you saw Alita Holloway in the lab.”
She nodded. “I was, but since you came to my phone rescue so quickly, I believe you can add ‘avoiding her charms’ to your list of attributes.”
“If you’re not careful, you’re going to start to like me.”
“Don’t worry. Won’t happen.”
He laughed softly. “Why not?”
“Because I’m …” She trailed off as if she’d said too much.
“You’re what?” He trailed a finger up her arm to coax her. “Why don’t you finish that sen
tence?”
“I don’t want to.” She looked at her phone again. “I wish I could trust you, though,” she said softly.
“Because you have secrets, don’t you?”
“Everybody has secrets.”
Bracing his arm behind her, he leaned closer. “Tell me yours.”
For a second, he thought she would. Then she jerked away, pushing herself up from the bed, but he grabbed her arm.
“Never mind,” he said reassuringly. “I’m not interested in your secrets.”
She settled back on the bed, not quite as close, but near enough for Con to feel her warmth. “You’re interested in something,” she said, eyeing him. “I haven’t figured out what it is yet, but you’re after something.”
“Two guesses, Lizzie.” He let his gaze drop to her mouth, brushed a curl out over her cheek, and kept his eyes open so he could watch hers close as he kissed her. “First one doesn’t count.”
CHAPTER
SIX
THE CONTACT WAS so light, Lizzie was more aware of sweet, warm breath than the feel of his mouth. Her eyes began to close but his didn’t, so she fought the urge to sink in to the kiss. Instead she held his eye contact, as electrifying as his mouth, as sexual and sensual as anything she’d ever felt.
Silver blue. Intense. Locked on her.
He angled his head slightly and added an infinitesimal amount of pressure, just enough to make it a real kiss and send a wave of warmth from her mouth to her … everywhere.
His fingertip grazed her jaw, a whisper of a touch, barely a caress. She breathed in a little, and that seemed to pull him deeper into the kiss, the tip of his tongue softly, slowly circling the opening of her mouth.
Her eyes heavy, her hands achy, she finally closed her lids and lifted her arms to rest on his shoulders, turn her torso toward him, and pull closer. He met her halfway, his chest against hers, their thighs pressed on the bed.
The instant they had body contact, he slid his tongue into her mouth, stealing more breath and sending more heat through her. A soft moan vibrated her mouth, and she wasn’t sure if it was him or her or both, but the sensation just made her want more.
MAKE HER PAY Page 6
