by Kimber Davis
Tuck’s Treasure
By
Kimber Davis
©2012 by Blushing Books® and Kimber Davis
Copyright © 2012 by Blushing Books® and Kimber Davis
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Davis, Kimber
Tuck’s Treasure
eBook ISBN: 978-1-60968-702-1
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This book is intended for adults only. Spanking and other sexual activities represented in this book are fantasies only, intended for adults. Nothing in this book should be interpreted as advocating any non-consensual spanking activity or the spanking of minors.
Chapter One
On old map and a recommendation from a man she hadn’t seen in twenty years were not likely to make a good first impression, but Charlene didn’t care. Dylan Cray would listen to her come hell or high water.
She made her way slowly down the wooden pier, wishing she’d gone to her hotel to change instead of coming here straight from the lawyer’s office. Her suit and heels didn’t exactly mix well with the dock and the water below. But waiting could pose a problem. If Cray took off on is newly inherited boat then all would be lost. Her uncle had been very specific about who should help her on her quest.
“Hello?” Loud Bruce Springsteen music blared from the boat. Charlene cleared her voice and yelled the greeting again.
“You a bill collector?” The disembodied voice came from the other side of the boat.
“No, I’m not. Mr. Cray, I…”
“You a process server?”
Charlene smiled and shook her head. This guy was a piece of work. “No, I’m not. If you’ll let me finish…”
“You associated in any way with my ex-wife? I just inherited this boat and if the beast finds out she’ll be champing at the bit to take it out from under me.”
The E Street band broke into the loud strains of “Glory Days.”
“Mr. Cray I’m Charlene Tucker. Walter Tucker’s niece?”
The mention of her uncle brought a sandy blond head into view. Deep blue eyes viewed her with open hostility. “No kidding? All the way from Atlanta? I suppose you want the boat, too. Damn. I knew this was too good to be true.”
“I don’t want the boat Mr. Cray, I promise you. Permission to come aboard?”
Charlene stared at the man and tried to look innocent. She raised her eyebrows and gave him her best wounded puppy look.
When he wiped his hands on a rag and then threw it down into an open toolbox she thought maybe, just maybe, he might listen to her.
Charlene felt herself stiffen as he examined her from head to toe. She took the opportunity to do the same.
He’d placed his hands on his hips and spread his legs in a classic “trying to be the big dog” stance. His arms and naked chest were muscular. Sweat glistened on curly blond chest hair. That trail of hair disappeared into tight faded jeans that encased muscular legs that bespoke years of manual labor. And his eyes, his beautiful blue eyes, still shot daggers at her.
When he didn’t answer her request she assumed the same stance that he did. Hands on her hips she inclined her head toward him.
“Mr. Cray, my uncle spoke quite fondly of you. I am in no way interested in taking the boat that he left you, I promise. I have a business proposition that I want to discuss. Do I have permission to come aboard?”
Dylan inclined his head to match Charlene’s. “Spoke fondly of me, huh? When was the last time you saw him?”
Damn, she’d been hoping to avoid this part. “Well, he said nice things in his…”
“In his will?” Dylan’s shoulders moved slightly and she thought he might be laughing at her; then a smile crossed his face. “You didn’t know your uncle at all, so how could you know how he felt about me?”
“He left you his boat, didn’t he?” She put her hands on her hips, determined not to let him get the better of her. “I repeat, permission to come aboard, Captain?”
By way of an answer Dylan crossed the deck and extended his hand. Charlene took hold of it and stepped onto the deck. It was the first time she’d been on a boat in twenty years and the rocking motion sent a chill down her spine. She reached out to grab the railing to orient herself.
“You okay? You’re not gonna puke or anything are ya? Figured you knew boats since you’re Tuck’s niece. You gotta puke please do it over the side.”
Charlene laughed and then sat down in the plastic chair that Dylan pulled out for her.
“I don’t have to puke. It’s just been a while,” she said softly. “I wanted to find you at your house but the lawyer didn’t know where you live, and he wasn’t sure if you worked or not. I thought this might be a good place to look.”
“I’ve work,” Dylan said as he puffed out his chest. “Damn suit should keep his mouth shut. Your uncle and I gave fishing tours for years. I just haven’t given any since he died.”
“Well that makes what I have to ask a little bit easier, then.” Charlene shifted in the chair and kicked off her shoes to make herself more comfortable. Being on a boat had more of an effect on her than she’d imagined it would. She felt as if she were at home, something she hadn’t expected.
“And what is it you have to say?” Dylan perched on the railing and clasped his hands in front of him. He’d looked down to where she’d taken off her shoes, his eyebrows lifted in surprise. He obviously thought she was taking a bit too much for granted, making herself at home like she was.
“I want you to help me find Tuck’s Treasure.” Charlene’s voice was low. “I have a map. You have a boat. And Tuck specifically said I should ask you for help so here I am.”
“Oh yeah? When did Tuck tell you to look for me?”
“Last night.” Charlene stiffened her shoulders as she waited for the handsome man’s response. She didn’t have long to wait.
“Lady you’re nuts,” Dylan laughed as he stood up. “Tuck’s been dead for a month now. Last night! Humph. I don’t give a crap if you do have beautiful green eyes and gorgeous ta-tas. I want your ass off MY boat. Now.”
Charlene put a hand to her chest, then settled back into her chair. “Don’t talk about my breasts. I want to talk about the map.”
“Is your hearing defective? I said get off, now.” He pointed to the area where she’d just entered the boat. “I won’t say it again.”
This wasn’t working out the way she’d planned. Maybe she needed to appeal to him on a different level, even if the idea did give her more than a moment’s pause. She needed to talk to him, though, before he forcibly removed her from the boat. “We can discuss the map or we can discuss my body. It doesn’t matter to me as long as I stay where I am until you hear me out.”
“Fine. Then let’s discuss your tits. Let me see them.” Dylan pulled up the chair across to Charlene and sat down. He forced his knee in between hers and smiled wickedly.
“This isn’t show and tell. I said talk, not look.”
“Lots of times those two things go hand in hand. That’s why it’s called show and
tell. You want to stay. I want you to leave. So show me.”
Charlene stiffened but stayed where she was. She knew what he was trying to do. He wanted her gone and he thought that by embarrassing her she would leave. Well he had another thing coming. Tuckers didn’t scare off that easily.
“I want to talk about the map.”
“And I want to talk about your boobs. You said we could discuss either one and since this is my boat I think I’m in charge.”
“Tuck says the treasure would be worth millions.”
She watched his face harden. “Did he tell you this last night? You didn’t even bother to come when he died, which was a month ago.”
Charlene’s breath hitched in her throat. “No one told me about his death until the lawyer called.”
“Really? I called your mother because her number was in Tuck’s house. She’s a real piece of work.”
This time she swallowed hard. “Yes, I know. My mother didn’t care for her brother very much, considered him a…”
“A bum? Well, let me tell you, Tuck did what he wanted to do, he lived his life the way he wanted and he paid his bills. He was a good man.”
Tears burned her eyes. She remembered her uncle from when she was a child, from before whenever it was that he and her mother had their falling out. Her family would come to visit him every summer and he’d take her out on his boat. His smile had been bright and he’d always been laughing. She cleared her throat to try and get hold of her emotions.
“The treasure is off the island where his house is, near the Bahamas.”
Dylan leaned toward her and Charlene could smell corn chips on his breath. It competed with the salty smell of the sea, which wrapped around him. It was a fitting aroma for this man of the sea and she thought once again how attractive he was. Not now, Charlene. This isn’t the time, or the place for this.
“Let’s talk about you visiting with Tuck last night, shall we? What exactly do you mean? Did his ghost come to you?”
“Not exactly.” She fixed him with a hard stare. “I had a dream about him and he was very specific in that dream. I didn’t see a ghost, but I think he was visiting me that way”
“Dreams happen.” He sat back in his chair and put his hands on his thighs. “You’re here, thinking about your uncle. That in itself could have prompted what you say is a dream. Why would I believe that Tuck came to see you?”
“He said you’d say that.” She licked her lips. “Do you have something to drink?”
“No. Give me some proof that he talked to you in your dream.”
“Tuck told me about the woman in Jamaica.”
She felt Dylan stiffen and then he laughed. “Anyone at the local bar could have told you that. The story is legend. Try again.”
“He told me about your tattoo, the one on your ass of the shark eating the car. He said it symbolized your desire to stay on the water and away from civilization.”
She thought, for just a moment, that he believed her. His eyes widened just a little, and then he shook his head, his lips spreading in a lazy smile.
“Again common knowledge. One more chance, sweetie, cause just like baseball it’s three strikes and you’re out.”
Charlene took a deep breath and tried to concentrate. If this next statement didn’t work she was in serious trouble.
“And he told me that when you found out Tuck was dead you came to the boat and cried like a little baby, then you took the boat out. There was a bottle of rum, and you drank it, or part of it, taking a shot and then pouring a shot into the sea as an offering of sorts to Tuck. He said you talked to him. Told him he was like a father to you. He wanted me to tell you he couldn’t have had a better son if he’d sired you. He said not to cry like a city boy, but to find the treasure.”
She’d expected him to scream and holler at her, call her a liar. Instead he went totally still, his gazed fixed on her face. He stayed in that position for several minutes and then she saw him take in large gulps of air as if fighting to get his emotions under control.
The boat rocked gently as the silence increased. She should say something else, but that might cause problems. He wasn’t being smart like he’d been earlier, so there was more than a little chance that he believed her, that what she’d just described was exactly what had happened when Dylan found out Tuck was dead.
“Let me see the map.” The words made her jump just a little. For so long the only sounds had been the lap of the water against the side of the boat, the occasional laugh from someone on a neighboring boat. His command had shocked her, but it was good to know he believed her.
She reached into her purse and pulled out the five by 7 manila envelope that contained the folded piece of paper, a copy of what the lawyer had given her. Dylan snatched it from her hand and opened it quickly, unfolding the paper and frowning.
“Where’s the original?”
“With the lawyer.” She sat back in her chair. “Will you help me?”
He fell silent again as he studied the map, and then he shook his head, handing it back. “Tuck talked about this supposed treasure all his life. If it is there, why didn’t he get it before he died?”
Charlene shrugged. “I can’t answer that question. All I know is that last night he was very specific. He said the treasure was from pirates long gone, that he’d found it while he was diving years ago and that he hid it.”
“Yeah, right.” Dylan stood and moved his chair back to where it had been before. He dropped the map in her lap. “Thanks for the bedtime story, sweetie, but I’ve heard it before. I find it hard to believe that Tuck would leave his so-called treasure for us to find after he was dead and gone. The exit’s that way.”
He walked back toward the stern and Charlene stood, hurrying behind him. It was time to pull out what the dream Tuck had called her secret weapon. “Either you help me or I’ll get Max to do it.”
“Excuse me?” He’d wheeled around so fast that Charlene had to take a step back, almost losing her balance. She hadn’t realized she’d been that close to him. He put a hand on her shoulder to steady her, but the angry stare in his blue eyes didn’t match the nice gesture. “You want to say that again?”
“Tuck said if you wouldn’t help me I should go to Max. He said Max could use a portion of the treasure, even if you wouldn’t take it.”
Dylan’s laugh was more a snort of derision. “That son of a…” When he laughed she was surprised. “That’s just like Tuck, pulling out the one name that would piss me off.”
Charlene stood her ground when he took a step closer to her. They were standing just inches apart now and the smell of salt water reached her nostrils again. “I’ll be damned if I let Max Ives get anything from Tuck, whether it’s money or just the satisfaction that you’d come to him for help.”
Well, her uncle had definitely known what he was doing, she thought to herself, carefully schooling her features so they didn’t show her surprise at winning their little standoff. Thank you Uncle Tuck. “You’ll help me, then.”
He held out his hand and she gave him the map. He studied it carefully and she could see him calculating the distance to their destination from the Keys, where they were now. “I need to get some supplies. We can leave first thing tomorrow morning, and by first thing I mean just that. Be here by six.”
When he turned without saying goodbye she let the smile she’d been fighting come through. This just might work after all. “See you tomorrow.”
He answered with a grunt and she turned toward the dock, grabbing her shoes before she stepped back onto the wood. Better not to push her luck. Dylan Cray would help her, and that was all that mattered right now.
* * *
Dylan waited until she was walking back toward her car before he clenched his hands in fists and shook them at the sky. “Damn you, Tuck, what the hell are you up to now?”
He hadn’t wanted to tell Miss I’m Here From Atlanta to find the treasure that Tuck had come to see him in a dream, too. In that dream he’d l
aughed and told Dylan that a beautiful redhead would be coming his way soon.
“Treat her nice and do exactly what she asks you to do,” Tuck had said, laughing. “If you don’t I’ll be mad at you, son.”
Son. Dylan closed his eyes as he remembered the endearment Tuck had always used when referring to him. Tuck hadn’t had any children, and Dylan’s own parents could care less if he lived or died. They spent their lives fighting with each other, the only thing that seemed to give them purpose. Dylan was pretty sure that he’d been born from one of their make-up parties after one of those fights.
He didn’t have any brothers or sisters. Growing up it had been just the three of them, and Dylan had spent most of his time in his room, listening to them screaming, and then hearing their bedroom door slam. He knew better than to interrupt either the rights, or the making up. He’d stayed in his room and read books, and dreamed of owning a boat and going out to sea.
Now he had the boat, and his first real trip on it would be with the woman Tuck had told him would be coming into his life.
“You could have told me she was your niece,” he said, knowing there would be no answer. Tuck had talked about his niece quite a bit, saying that, like Dylan, she was an only child.
“Her mother’s a real witch, though,” he’d said one day as they’d sat watching a few of their customers work their reels. “She was always upset that I didn’t do anything with my life, as she put it. Said I wasted it, which, of course, I didn’t. I tried to tell her I loved my life but she thinks it’s all about making money.”
Maybe that was the reason Tuck had never retrieved his treasure, if there even was one, Dylan thought. Maybe he thought going after the money would make him like his sister. Thinking about that made Dylan wonder about Charlene Tucker. Why was she here? For the money? Or because her uncle wanted her to be here?
She hadn’t had contact with the man for twenty years, and if she was in her thirties, which was where he’d pegged her, she’d had a good many years since she’d become an adult to make contact with her uncle. Why hadn’t she done it? Did she, like her mother, think Tuck had wasted his life? If so then she didn’t deserve the money.
