“What else do you know about Declan?”
“I know he’s a son of a bitch who shouldn’t have his hands in the archaeological world. I also know he’s a ruthless tyrant who stops at nothing less than what he wants.”
Her eyes narrowed in speculation. “Sounds like you know an awful lot. In fact, it sounds like your being here has a personal edge to it.”
He dropped his hand. “It does. His company, Trifecta, funds a lot of underwater recovery projects. I happened to be on one years ago, a Spanish shipwreck off the coast of Antigua, documenting the find. I disagreed with Declan’s motives. He was on-site constantly as we got close to the goods. He didn’t care about preserving the artifacts or raising the ship. All he cared about was finding treasure.”
“That’s Declan.” She crossed her arms over her chest and tried to settle her quaking stomach.
“Anyway…” He started walking again, and she followed. “He had me thrown off the project because I disagreed with him philosophically. It burns the pride to be kicked off something you believe in, something you’re good at.”
“Was this before or after you met Patrick?”
“Before.”
“And through Patrick, you saw an opportunity to get back at him. Find La Malinche, flaunt it under his nose, and you’ve won.”
“Something like that,” he mumbled as he looked out at the water.
“Silly reason to get yourself mixed into something that could potentially be dangerous.” Colin had died for much less than that.
“Revenge is never silly. Isn’t that why you’re really here?”
Maren stopped and looked at him. Revenge was only the start. “I’m here for freedom.”
He stared at her a long moment, and she knew he was wondering what she meant by that. Glancing to her right, she realized they were already back at camp, and that they were no longer alone. Two figures stood on the porch of a nearby hut. One she recognized by the way he leaned against the railing, sipping the coffee in his hand. The other she recognized by the increased beat of her heart.
“Thanks for breakfast, Nate.”
“Maren—”
Steeling her nerves, she crossed the sand, then drew to a stop at the bottom step of Thad’s hut. But when she looked up, her stomach betrayed her and did an involuntary flip. God, he looked good in those worn jeans, faded blue T-shirt, flip-flops, and that stupid Red Socks hat he’d worn years ago.
Not being distracted by him these next few weeks was going to be harder than she thought if he looked this good every damn day.
Clearing her throat, she looked past Thad toward her father. “I’ll stay. For now.” Patrick pushed away from the railing, and his face brightened, but before he could get too excited, she added, “That doesn’t mean anything has changed, though.”
She didn’t wait for either of them to respond. She turned and headed for her cabin across camp. And with her heart racing, told herself she was doing the right thing. Someday—maybe—they would understand.
Someday maybe she could convince herself of that fact too.
CHAPTER FIVE
Thad glanced toward Patrick as Maren disappeared around the corner of the building. The old fart’s grin stretched from ear to ear.
Patrick chuckled and lifted his coffee. “Guess she told us. Wonder what changed her mind.”
Thad wondered too. He wasn’t sure if it was his conversation with her last night or her early morning impromptu breakfast with Drummer, but either way, he didn’t care. She was staying. He hadn’t come down here because of her, but his mood lifted dramatically just knowing she was sticking around.
Drummer approached the cabin. Hands on hips, he rested one foot on the bottom step and squinted through the sunlight. “Busy morning. I need a shower. We heading out to the boat today?”
Patrick glanced Thad’s way and lifted his brows. Drummer caught the movement, and his gaze followed.
“Yeah,” Thad said, tossing the last few drops of his coffee over the railing into the sand. He and Patrick had already agreed Thad would take the lead on the Conquistador’s recovery. Patrick would monitor and supervise all activity from the camp. “We need to check and catalog the gear. There’s a dive shop in town. If we need something, we should be able to find it. I’ve also got equipment coming on order. Probably be here today or tomorrow.”
“Sounds good,” Drummer said. “Gimme fifteen to get cleaned up.”
“I’ll be out at the rig, loading up,” Thad told him.
Drummer moved up the steps. As he pulled open the screen, Thad said, “Hey, Nate.”
Drummer paused. “Yeah?”
“Whatever you said to her this morning, thanks.”
“Don’t thank me. She’d already decided to stay before I ran into her. But I don’t think she did it for you, numbnuts.” He looked Patrick’s way. “Or you, old man. I have a feeling that woman doesn’t do anything unless it’s exactly what she wants to do.”
One side of Thad’s lips curled. Yeah, he remembered that about Maren. Nice to know some things hadn’t changed.
The screen door slapped closed as Drummer headed into the casita. When they were alone, Thad sobered and looked Patrick’s way again, intent on finishing the conversation they’d just started when Maren and Drummer interrupted them. “So…Declan…”
Patrick tossed the dregs of his coffee over the railing. “Off the coast of St. Kitts. Shipwreck there he’s just started scavenging. So far, my guys tell me he hasn’t even looked our direction.”
Thad rested his hands on his hips. Above, a bird cawed as it swooped low over the swaying palms. “That’ll change.”
“Not likely. Unless someone here feeds him information, and I know that won’t happen, we should be free and clear for quite some time.”
“Never underestimate the bastard, Patrick. Word will spread. The locals will talk. And no matter what, Declan will find out. He has a sixth sense about these things. You think Maren’s up for this?”
“Maren needed to get back on a dig. She’s ready. She can handle this. I know you don’t think so, but trust me, she can handle just about anything.”
Thad wasn’t sure about that. He’d seen her last night, and he knew she was still struggling with the hows and whys of being down here, but Drummer was right. She never did anything unless she wanted to.
He pulled the keys from his front pocket. “I’ll radio you from the boat later and give you an update.”
“Enjoy the sun,” Patrick said, moving down the steps and heading the other direction.
Thad crossed the camp just as Lisa was emerging from her hut. “Hey, Red. You working on the boat today, or here?”
Lisa stopped near the back of the Jeep. Thad yanked open his backpack and searched for his sunglasses. “Here. I work better alone. The camp should be deserted once Patrick gets his grunts out of the way. I’ll set up in the dining hall. By the time you all come back for dinner, I should have the seafloor mapped and will be able to tell you exactly where our ship is located.”
Thad chuckled. “You always were a cocky broad.”
Lisa grinned. “Someone has to be.” Backpack slung over her shoulder and a full coffee cup in hand, she started down the dirt road, then glanced back. “Be nice to each other.”
Thad looked over his shoulder. Maren stood a few feet from him. Her freshly showered hair was piled on top of her head, a few loose strands framing her face, and the familiar scent of pomegranates wafted in the air around her.
God, she smelled incredible. Thad fought from drawing in a deep whiff and went back to his bag. “Now why would she think otherwise?”
“I guess she knows us both pretty well,” Maren said.
Thad pulled his glasses out and slid them on, then turned to face her. And wow, she looked even better than she smelled. Short denim shorts, a thin white tank that showed off her small waist and hips and the supple curve of her breasts, a knapsack slung over her shoulder and dusty hiking boots on her feet that proved she
was as rugged as the rest of them. He’d always been interested in girls who could get gussied up one minute but were just as comfortable dressed down, and she still definitely qualified. Awareness zinged through his body and shot straight to his groin.
Realizing where his thoughts were going, he cleared his throat and refocused on why he was here. The situation was going to be awkward anyway they sliced it. It was better to clear the air than just let things fester. “Look, Maren—”
“No, Thad. Let me start. You took me by surprise yesterday at the airstrip. As soon as I saw you, I knew Patrick had tricked me to get me down here. I shouldn’t have taken things out on you, and for that I apologize.”
Thad stared into her light blue eyes, a little taken aback. The Maren he remembered was as fiery as the girl who’d leapt out of his Jeep yesterday before they’d come to a complete stop. The one he was being faced with today was calm, collected, and sounded…practiced.
“There’s no reason for you to apologize,” he said slowly.
“Yes, there is. I let my emotions rule me yesterday. I was tired, still a little airsick, and overwhelmed. But I won’t let it happen again. We’re both mature, rational adults. We can forget about everything that happened in the past and work together now as professional colleagues. I have complete faith you won’t be anything but one hundred percent ethical where I’m concerned.”
Thad wasn’t exactly sure how to interpret that. It was the equivalent of let’s just be friends but instead of friends, she wanted to be cold, distant professionals.
“Fresh start?” She held out her hand in a peace offering, lifted her brows, and waited. And he looked down at her long fingers and slim palm and had an insane urge to wrap his hand around hers, then pull her in for a swift, hard kiss, just to prove they’d always be a hell of a lot more than “colleagues.”
He took her small hand in his, and as their skin brushed, an arc of electricity shot up his arm. His gaze darted to her eyes. If she felt it too, though, she didn’t show it. Not even the smallest twitch.
Smiling sweetly, she released his hand, then moved around him toward the front of the Jeep. “Is Nate coming?”
That urge to kiss her came back tenfold, and as the scent of pomegranates wafted by him again, Thad turned to watch her, only just barely keeping his feet planted in the thin dirt beneath his flip-flops. “Yeah.”
“Good.” She opened the door and climbed into the front seat, then slipped on a pair of Ray-Bans. “I’m anxious to get started. The sooner we get going, the sooner we can get home. I have people waiting for me.”
Thad wasn’t sure what that meant, but some deep-seated place inside wanted to find out. She couldn’t be married. She wasn’t wearing a ring, and Lisa or Patrick would have told him if that were the case. And why the hell did the thought of her being married suddenly cause a knot in his stomach?
He slammed the tailgate closed and moved around to the driver side of the vehicle, more dazed than he’d been in weeks—no, months. Irritated with himself, he looked toward his casita, then leaned into the cab and laid on the horn.
A loud blare echoed, followed by a muffled, “I’m coming. Jesus, keep your panties on,” from the direction of his hut.
Maren laughed. And the sound was so sweet, Thad’s mood lifted all over again. “Move your ass, Drummer!” he called.
Dressed in cargo shorts, a blue dive T-shirt, and flip-flops, Drummer jogged down the steps of their casita with a sandwich in hand and a frown on his face. He tossed his camera bag and backpack into the rear of the Jeep, then climbed into the backseat. “You barely give a man time to shower, let alone grab a bite to eat. All I ever hear from you is ‘do this,’ ‘do that,’ and ‘hurry the hell up.’”
Thad closed the door and shoved the Jeep in gear. “You should learn to get up earlier, Cinderella.”
Maren chuckled again as they pulled out of camp. “And eat less. We just had breakfast. How can you be hungry already?”
“I’m a guy, sweetheart,” Drummer mumbled from the backseat as he bit into his sandwich. “We’re always hungry, aren’t we, boss man?”
Maren looked Thad’s way and lifted her brows.
And as he drove, Thad ground his teeth against the wicked shot of heat cascading all through his body. Yeah, he was hungry. But not for food. At least not right now. Now he was hungry for the woman seated next to him. The one he’d vowed never to touch if he ever saw her again. The one he was suddenly plotting to get his hands on as soon as they were alone.
The marina was littered with fishermen and a scattering of tourists searching for a chance to dive in some of the best waters in the world. Thad pointed out the boat to Maren as they drew close. The Escapade looked like an ordinary yacht, forty-eight feet long, a wide deck, with a generous cabin below. But knowing her father, Maren suspected the technology on board would be state-of-the-art—GPS, side scan sonar, Doppler, Pulse 12 metal detector, the works. The man never did anything half-assed.
Unless of course it had anything to do with family. Then he didn’t give a damn.
Forcing back the contempt and reminding herself to keep the mood light and noncombative, she climbed on board and tossed her backpack on the deck. A quick peek in the pilothouse confirmed her predictions, and she let out a slow whistle. “Patrick spent a pretty penny on this.”
“Investors did,” Thad said, easing by her.
When he passed, Maren caught a hint of that husky male scent as the air stirred near her and his warm body brushed by. That moment back at camp rushed through her memory, the way his skin had tingled against hers when he’d shaken her hand. How hot and alive he’d been next to her. Refocusing on why she was here, she glanced up with the intent of smiling politely, then noticed his profile and couldn’t help but falter.
Chiseled jaw, strong neck, square chin, and lush, masculine lips. Every bit the man she still dreamed about at night, and the one she saw in her daughter’s face every time she looked at her. Emotions tightened her chest, mixing with memories she fought to keep back. Averting her eyes, she turned away and blinked several times to keep from getting sucked back under.
“Lab’s set up in the salon downstairs,” he said.
Thankful for the distraction—and the fact he hadn’t seemed to notice her little hiccup—she headed for the stairs. Being close to him was hard enough without the added knowledge he was aware of her. And the fact he hadn’t argued with her when she’d proposed they put the past behind them and simply be professional colleagues? That just proved there was nothing left between them and that he’d moved on long ago. A good thing, she assured herself.
So why did that knowledge depress her?
Shaking off the crazy thoughts, she moved down the stairs into the main salon. As she’d expected, the Escapade wasn’t merely a sailing vessel, but a full-fledged working research vessel. A long counter against one wall and large, rectangular table in the middle of the salon would suffice for the work she needed to do once they started gathering artifacts. There was a small galley ahead and a door leading to two staterooms. After glancing around the bedrooms, she turned back for the salon. If nothing else, the extra room on board might come in handy if she decided to work late some night or just wanted to get away from the group.
Back at the counter, she took out her notebook, slipped on her glasses, and focused on making lists of chemicals and supplies she’d need. Even though her father’s main goal was La Malinche, they were bound to unearth other important artifacts. To keep her ruse up, she’d have to play her part to the letter.
They’d need more containers, muriatic acid for cleaning brass, bronze, and copper pieces, citric acid for electrolyte cleaning. She’d have to pick up nylon brushes in town, bags for labeling and cataloging finds, and picks and hammers to dislodge conglomerate—the chunks of calcium carbonate that formed over objects underwater after centuries of chemical reactions.
As Thad had explained to her on the drive to the marina, the artifacts would be cleaned, bagged, a
nd stored, then shipped to a research lab in Mexico once the dig was complete.
She reached for her laptop in the bag at her feet and began typing in notes and making lists of what still needed to be done to prepare for the work ahead.
Still busy two hours later, she barely heard Thad when he wandered into the cabin. With her notebook open next to her, her eyes busily scanning the pages, and her fingers clicking across the keyboard, she didn’t look up until he shifted his weight and cleared his throat.
“Drummer and I are heading into town to pick up supplies at the dive shop.”
“Hmm.” She held up a finger to stop him while she kept typing. She hit the Save key, swiveled on her stool, and took the pencil out of her mouth. “I’ll go with you. I need to get a few things as well.”
“Sounds good.”
He stepped to the side to let her pass. Their bodies brushed as she moved, just a whisper touch. Just enough so the casual contact sent a shiver of awareness through Maren’s entire body. She tried not to react but couldn’t help drawing in a quick breath and inhaling the clean scent of soap and male sweat mixed with salt from the ocean.
She fought to keep her eyes open and not savor the feel of being close to him again. How was it possible he smelled the same after all this time? Recognition swamped her, and her heart rate jumped before she could steady it.
Thad followed her out to the Wrangler, where Drummer was waiting. They drove into the village, parked, and Maren climbed out, relieved to have some distance and a chance to get her bearings. She scanned the area.
“An hour and a half long enough?” Thad asked.
“Should be. I’ll put together an order. We can pick it up on the way back.” She moved into the crowds and resisted the urge to look back to see if he was watching her.
It only took about an hour to locate the supplies on her list. Most of it she was able to find at the local hardware store. A few items she had to order. She made a mental note to let Patrick handle those.
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