by Nora Roberts
Marla suppressed a shudder. Her daughter was whole and safe and here, she reminded herself. But she kept a hand over Tate’s as reassurance. “Do you believe he killed Matthew’s father?”
“Matthew believes it. There.” She lifted a hand to point. “There’s the boat.”
On the bridge, Matthew studied the Triumphant. It was new, he noted, more luxurious than the rig they had used in Australia. As far as he could see, the decks were deserted.
“I’m going over, Ray.”
“Let’s take this one step at a time.”
“VanDyke’s already taken too many steps.”
“We’ll hail them first.” Ray maneuvered the boat between the Triumphant and the Sea Devil, cut the engines.
“Get the women in the cabins, keep them there.” Matthew picked up a diving knife.
“And what are you going to do?” Ray demanded. “Clamp that between your teeth and swing over on a rope? Use your head.” Hoping the scathing tone worked, he left the bridge. On deck, he glanced at his wife and daughter before going to the rail.
“Ahoy the Triumphant,” he called out.
“There was a woman,” Tate supplied. The hair on her arms and neck began to tingle as Matthew joined them. “Crew—seamen and stewards. Divers.”
Now, the Triumphant looked like a ghost ship, silent but for the flap of awnings and lap of the water on its hull.
“I’m going over,” Matthew said again. As he readied to dive into the water, VanDyke strolled out on deck.
“Good afternoon.” His beautiful voice carried over the water. “Gorgeous day for a sail, isn’t it?”
“Silas VanDyke.”
Like a pose, VanDyke leaned on the rail, ankles crossed, arms folded. “Yes, indeed. And what can I do for you?”
“I’m Raymond Beaumont.”
“Ah, of course.” In a gallant gesture, he tipped the brim of his panama. “I’ve met your charming daughter. Lovely to see you again, Tate. And you must be Mrs. Beaumont.” He bowed slightly in Marla’s direction. “I see where Tate gets her fresh and intriguing beauty. And it’s young Matthew Lassiter, isn’t it? How interesting to meet you here.”
“I knew you were a murderer, VanDyke,” Matthew called out. “But I didn’t know you’d sink to piracy.”
“You haven’t changed.” VanDyke’s teeth flashed. “I’m glad. It would be a shame to have all those rough edges polished away. I’d invite you all onboard, but we’re rather busy at the moment. Perhaps we can arrange a little dinner party for later in the week.”
Before Matthew could speak, Ray clamped a hand on his arm, fingers vising. “We have first claim on the Santa Marguerite. We discovered her, and we’ve been working her for several weeks. The necessary paperwork was filed with the government of Saint Kitts.”
“I’m afraid we disagree.” Gracefully, Silas took a slim silver case from his pocket, chose a cigarette. “You’re welcome to check with the authorities if you find it necessary. Of course, we are beyond the legal limit. And when I arrived, there was no one here. Just that unfortunate, and empty, boat.”
“My partner was seriously injured a few days ago. We had to postpone the excavation.”
“Ah.” VanDyke lighted his cigarette, took a contemplative drag. “I heard about poor Buck’s accident. How difficult for him, for you all. My sympathies. However, the fact remains that I’m here, and you’re not.”
“You took property from our boats,” Tate shouted out.
“That’s a ridiculous accusation, and one you’ll have a great deal of difficulty proving. Of course, you’re welcome to try.” He paused to study and admire a pair of pelicans in their dance from sky to sea and back again. “Treasure-hunting is a frustrating business, isn’t it?” he said conversationally. “And often heartbreaking. Do give my best regards to your uncle, Matthew. I hope this bad luck that runs in your family ends with you.”
“Fuck this.” Even as Matthew vaulted to the rail, Tate sprang to stop him. He’d barely shaken her off when Ray shoved him back.
“Top deck,” he murmured. “Forward and aft.”
Two men had stepped into view, each with rifles shouldered and aimed.
“I believe in guarding my possessions,” VanDyke explained. “A man in my position learns that security isn’t merely a luxury, but a vital business tool. Raymond, I’m sure you’re a sensible man, sensible enough to keep young Matthew from getting himself hurt over a few trinkets.” Well satisfied with the situation, he took another drag on his cigarette as the pelicans plopped gleefully into the water between them. “And I would be devastated if a stray bullet happened to strike you, or either of those precious jewels beside you.” His smile spread. “Matthew would be the first to tell you that accidents, tragic accidents, happen.”
Matthew’s fingers were bone white on the rail. Everything inside him screamed to take his chances, to dive in. “Get them inside.”
“If he shoots you, what happens to Buck?”
Matthew shook his head, riding on the rush of blood to his head. “I only need ten seconds. Ten goddamn seconds.” And a knife across VanDyke’s throat.
“What happens to Buck?” Ray insisted.
“You’re not going to ask me to walk away from this.”
“No, I’m telling you.” Fear and fury helped Ray muscle Matthew back from the rail. “This isn’t worth your life. And it sure as hell isn’t worth the lives of my wife and daughter. Take the wheel, Matthew. We’re heading back to Saint Kitts.”
Even the thought of retreat made him ill. If he’d been alone . . . But he wasn’t. Saying nothing, he turned on his heels and headed for the bridge.
“Very wise, Raymond,” VanDyke commented with a glint of admiration in his voice. “Very wise. The boy is a tad reckless, I’m afraid, not as mature and sensible as men like us. It was a pleasure to meet you all. Mrs. Beaumont, Tate.” He tipped the brim of his hat again. “Good sailing.”
“Oh, Ray.” As the boat circled around, Marla crossed to her husband on jellied knees. “They would have killed us.”
Feeling unmanned, helpless, Ray stroked her hair and watched the dashing figure of VanDyke grow smaller with distance. “We’ll go to the authorities,” he said quietly.
Tate left them, rushed to the bridge. There Matthew gripped the wheel, the course set.
“There was nothing we could do,” she began. Something about his stance warned her against touching him in any way. When he said nothing, she stepped closer, but kept her hands locked together. “He would have had them shoot you, Matthew. He wanted to. We’ll report him as soon as we dock.”
“And what the fuck do you think that will do?” There was something mixed with the bitterness in his voice. Something she didn’t recognize as shame. “Money talks.”
“We went through all the proper channels,” she insisted. “The records—”
He cut her off with one flaming look. “Don’t be stupid. There won’t be any records. There won’t be anything he doesn’t want there to be. He’ll take the wreck. He’ll strip her, take it all. And I let him. I stood there, just the way I did nine years ago, and I did nothing.”
“There was nothing you could do.” Ignoring her own instincts, she laid a hand on his back. “Matthew . . .”
“Leave me alone.”
“But, Matthew—”
“Leave me the hell alone.”
Hurt and helpless, she did what he asked.
That evening, she sat alone in her room. She imagined this was what was meant by being shell-shocked. The day had been a series of hard slaps, ending with her father’s shaken announcement that there was no record of their claim. None of the paperwork they had so meticulously filed existed, and the clerk Ray had worked with personally denied ever having seen him before.
There was no longer any doubt that Silas VanDyke had won. Again.
Everything they had done, all the work, the suffering Buck had endured was for nothing. For the first time in her life, she was faced with the fact that
being right, and doing right, didn’t always matter.
She thought of all the beautiful things she had held in her hands. The emerald cross, the porcelain, the bits and pieces of history she had lifted out of its blanket of sand and brought into the light.
She would never touch them again, or study them, see them winking behind glass at a museum. There would be no discreet card heralding them as pieces of the Beaumont-Lassiter collection. She would not see her father’s name in National Geographic, or pore over photographs she’d taken herself on those glossy pages.
They’d lost.
And it shamed her to realize how much she had wanted those flashes of glory. She’d imagined herself going back to college, impressing her professors, sailing through to her degree on a wave of triumph.
Or simply sailing off with Matthew, riding on the current of their victory on the way to the next.
Now there was nothing but bitter failure.
Too restless to stay in her room, she headed out. She would walk on the beach, she decided. Try to clear her head and plan the future.
It was there she found him, standing with his face to the sea. He’d chosen the spot where they had once come onto the island. Where she had looked, seen him look, and had known she loved him.
Her heart squeezed with sorrow for him, then settled. For she was sure now what to do.
She walked to his side and stood, letting the breeze ruffle her hair. “I’m so sorry, Matthew.”
“It’s nothing new. Bad luck’s my usual kind.”
“This had to do with cheating and stealing. Not with luck.”
“It always has to do with luck. If I’d had better, I’d have gotten to VanDyke alone.”
“And done what? Rammed his boat, boarded it, fought off his armed crew single-handedly?”
It didn’t matter now how foolish she made it sound. “I’d have done something.”
“Gotten yourself shot,” she agreed. “A lot of good that would have done any of us. Buck needs you, Matthew. I need you.”
He hunched his shoulders. A poor defense, he thought. Being needed didn’t suit him. “I’ll see to Buck.”
“We’ll see to him. There are other wrecks, Matthew. Waiting. When he’s better, we’ll find them.” Needing to let hope surge, she took his hands. “He can even dive again if he wants to. I talked to Doctor Farrge. They’re doing amazing things with prostheses. We can take him to Chicago next week. The specialist there will have him up and around in no time.”
“Right.” As soon as he figured out how to pay for a trip to Chicago, a specialist, therapy.
“When he gets the go-ahead, we’ll go someplace warm where he can recuperate. That’ll give us time to research another wreck. The Isabella, if it’s still what he wants. What you want.”
“You can’t spend time researching wrecks in college.”
“I’m not going back to college.”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m not going back.” Delighted with her decision, she threw her arms around his neck. “I don’t know why I thought I needed to. I can learn everything I have to learn by doing. What difference does a degree make?”
“That’s stupid talk, Tate.” He reached up to pry her arms loose, but she pressed against him.
“No, it’s not. It’s absolutely logical. I’ll stay with you and Buck in Chicago until we decide where to go next. Then we’ll go.” She touched her lips to his. “Anywhere. As long as we’re together. Can’t you see it, Matthew, sailing wherever we want, whenever we want, on the Sea Devil.”
“Yeah.” The fact that he could, all too well, made his limbs weak.
“Mom and Dad will join us when we find another wreck. And we will find one, better than the Marguerite. VanDyke won’t beat us, Matthew, unless we let him.”
“He already has.”
“No.” With her eyes closed, she laid her cheek against his. “Because we’re here, we’re together. And we have everything ahead of us. He wants the amulet, but he doesn’t have it. And I know, I just know he never will. Whether we find it or not, Matthew, we have more than he ever can.”
“You’re dreaming.”
“What if I am?” She drew back and was smiling again. “Isn’t that what hunting for treasure’s all about? Now we can dream together. I don’t care if we never find another wreck. Let VanDyke take it all, every last doubloon. You’re what I want.”
She meant it. The certainty of that made him giddy with need, terrified with guilt. He had only to snap his fingers and she would go with him wherever he asked. She would leave everything she had, or could have, behind.
And before long she would hate him nearly as much as he hated himself.
“Seems to me you’re not giving a lot of thought to what I want.” His voice was cool as he tipped up her chin and gave her a careless kiss.
“I don’t know what you mean.”
“Listen, Red, things went to hell here. I put in a lot of work and had to watch it slip right through my fingers. That sucks, but it’s not even the worst of it. I’m already saddled with a cripple. What makes you think I want to take you on as well?”
The cut was so quick, so sharp, she barely felt it. “You don’t mean that. You’re still upset.”
“Upset doesn’t cover it. If you and your by-the-book family hadn’t gotten in the way, I wouldn’t be standing here empty-handed. Ray just had to go through channels. How the hell do you think VanDyke got on to us?”
Color leeched from her cheeks. “You can’t blame him.”
“Hell I can’t.” He tucked his hands into his pockets. “Me and Buck, we ran a different kind of operation. But you had the dough. Now we’ve got nothing. All I have left after months of work is a gimpy uncle.”
“That’s a horrible thing to say.”
“Plain fact,” he corrected and ignored the coating of disgust in his throat. “I’ll get him set up somewhere. I owe him that. But you and me, Red, that’s a different can of worms. Passing the time for a few weeks, a little entertainment on the side to break the monotony is one thing. And it’s been fun. But you hanging around my neck now that the deal’s in the toilet—that cramps my style.”
She felt as if someone had hollowed her out in one vicious scoop. He was looking at her with a faint grin on his mouth, cool amusement in his eyes. “You’re in love with me,” she insisted.
“You’re dreaming again. Hey, you want to weave a little romantic fantasy with me in the starring role, fine. But don’t expect to sail off into the sunset.”
It had to be worse, he decided. He had to be worse. Words alone wouldn’t shake her loose, wouldn’t save her from him. Even as his own actions revolted him, he cupped his hands over her hips, drew her intimately close.
“I didn’t mind playing the game, honey. Hell, I enjoyed every minute of it. As lousy as things turned out, why don’t we try to cheer each other up. End things with a real bang.”
He clamped his mouth over hers, hard. He wanted nothing soft or sweet in the kiss. It was greedy, demanding and just a little mean. Even as she started to struggle, he slipped a hand under her blouse, closed it over her breast.
“Don’t.” This was wrong, she thought frantically. It wasn’t supposed to be like this. It couldn’t be like this. “You’re hurting me.”
“Come on, baby.” Christ, her skin was like satin. He wanted to stroke it, savor it, seduce it. Instead he bruised it, knowing whatever marks he left there would fade much sooner than the ones he was leaving on himself. “You know we both want it.”
“No.” Sobbing, she shoved and clawed herself free. In defense, she hugged her arms tight. “Don’t touch me.”
“Just a tease after all.” He forced himself to meet her haunted eyes. “All talk, no action, Tate?”
She could barely see him for the tears spilling out of her eyes. “You don’t care about me at all.”
“Sure I do.” He heaved a sigh. “What’s it going to take to get you in the sack? You want poet
ry? I can dig some up. Too shy to do it on the beach? Fine. I’ve got a room your old man’s paying for.”
“None of us meant anything to you.”
“Hey. I pulled my weight.”
“I loved you. We all cared.”
Already past tense, he thought. It wasn’t so hard to kill love. “Big fucking deal. Partnership’s dissolved. You and your parents go back to your nice, tidy lives. I go on with mine. Now, do you want to go bounce on the mattress awhile, or do I go find somebody else?”
Part of her mind wondered that she could still stand, still speak, when he had torn out her heart. “I never want to see you again. I want you to stay away from me and my parents. I don’t want them to have to know what a bastard you are.”
“No problem. Run on home, kid. I got places to go.”
She told herself she wouldn’t, that she would walk, head high. But after a few steps, she did just that. She fled, with her tattered heart bleeding.
When she was gone, Matthew sat down in the sand, lay his aching head on his knees. He figured he’d just completed the first heroic act of his life, by saving hers.
And he decided as the ache pulsed through him, that he wasn’t cut out to be a hero.
CHAPTER 10
“I CAN’T IMAGINE where Matthew could be.“ Marla spoke in undertones, fretting as she paced the hospital corridor. ”It’s not like him to miss his visit to Buck. And especially today, when they’re transferring Buck to a regular room."
Tate shrugged. Even that hurt, she discovered. She’d spent a sleepless night mourning a broken heart, giving it every tear inside her. Still, in the end, she had salvaged her pride and now braced against it.
“He probably found a more interesting way to spend his day.”
“Well, it’s not like him.” Marla glanced over when Ray stepped out of Buck’s room.
“He’s settling in.” The bolstering smile did little to erase the concern in Ray’s eyes. “He’s a little tired, doesn’t really feel up to visitors. Matthew come in yet?”
