by MJ Fredrick
“Look,” Adrian said, stepping forward, one arm out, blood roaring in his ears as he assessed the situation. He couldn’t cross the distance fast enough to knock Smoller aside. If he did, he might still be too late to protect Mallory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t plan to die down there today.”
“Well.” Smoller loosened his grip on Mallory a bit, but Adrian couldn’t let himself relax. He knew the man too well. “Perhaps I wasn’t clear. But you need to know not to defy my authority.”
Adrian’s bowels iced when Smoller raised his eyes to Adrian. He saw the cool hate in them. God, no, not Mallory.
“It won’t happen again,” Adrian said quickly. “I understand, all right? What will it take? Anything—” Panic ripped the last word out of him, even as he knew the price of that word.
Smoller shook his head sadly. “No, I know you, Adrian. You’re too headstrong. You need a lesson.”
Mallory’s whimper floated across the water toward him. He’d make the jump. He’d have to. His whole body tensed as he readied himself, only to snap in shock when the shot rang out.
Chapter Seventeen
Linda swayed for a moment, her eyes bright with surprise, her hands closing over her chest. Between her fingers, blood blossomed. Mallory watched with horror as the girl toppled and fell beneath the waves. Adrian’s anguished cry carried across the water. Mallory’s muscles went limp as she followed the movement of Smoller’s arm lowering the gun.
Mallory’s throat closed in panic, her breath escaping in whimpers. He’d killed Linda for no reason but to teach Adrian a lesson, to teach both of them a lesson. That he was in charge and he’d brook no rebellion. The man she’d known before had been hard, determined, but never capable of murder.
Ears ringing from the gunshot and her own pounding heart, she swung her gaze to Adrian as she allowed Smoller to support her weight on one arm. Her husband still wore his gear, his attention on the water where Linda had gone in, but when he moved toward the edge, Smoller, who’d obviously been watching him too, pressed the gun to Mallory’s head.
“Don’t even think it, Reeves.”
Adrian whirled, his eyes wild as he pled with the man holding her. “Jesus, Smoller. Jesus! She was just a girl, no threat to you.”
“And no use to me, either. Easily replaceable.” He stroked the gun down Mallory’s cheek and she shuddered with revulsion and pain. Adrian’s expression was hard as he took in the message.
“Are you ready to dive with me, sweetheart? I’m sure you’ll be perfectly biddable.”
Terrified, she looked over at Adrian, but his gaze had returned to the water where Linda had gone in. She could see the responsibility weighing on him. If he hadn’t been defiant, if he hadn’t brought her here…
“Time to go,” Smoller said. “Would you like a suit this time?”
Adrian’s muscles quivered with tension and fear from the moment Mallory disappeared underwater. He’d seen the rage in her eyes over Linda’s murder, and she was descending with the murderer. He was helpless; he couldn’t dive again and risk the bends—then he’d be no good to anyone. He had to hope that Mallory had more sense than to act on her anger—she’d always had more control than him—that she now knew what Smoller was capable of.
Hell, he’d known Smoller was a son of a bitch, but he’d never suspected he could murder someone for greed. Once again Adrian searched the surface of the water for Linda. She’d been just a girl, a girl he’d been responsible for, and now she was dead.
If Mallory died too, he didn’t want to go on living.
Mallory scanned for sight of Linda’s body as she descended. The girl had been wearing her dive belt, so she probably wouldn’t surface for some time, if at all. The creatures of the sea could be brutal.
Like the man ahead of her. They were in more trouble than she’d realized.
Anger and fear made her tremble as she swam alongside the two men who accompanied them. She didn’t think they’d kill her. He wouldn’t risk hurting her here, where it couldn’t do as much damage to Adrian.
Nonetheless, she was having trouble breathing, her throat tight, as if the arteries in her throat had expanded to accommodate the adrenaline racing through her body. Her movements were jerky and slow, every muscle in her body tensed to the point of snapping. She didn’t know how she’d reach the bottom, much less gather the treasure he wanted.
Mallory shoveled as much treasure as she could into the baskets, barely paying attention to the ancient artifacts that passed through her fingers. She needed to keep alert, had to watch him, to see if she could read him, know what he wanted ahead of time.
She couldn’t imagine how Valentine could hate Adrian so much. Why did he want to destroy him, or was that just a side effect of his greed? She must have missed the animosity when they’d worked together, or even afterward, when he’d befriended her. As she dug, she flipped through her memories, found nothing that would point to them all ending up in this situation together.
“Good haul,” Smoller said when they surfaced.
Her heart clenched. She’d seen ceramic incense burners, parts of ceramic pots, enameled crucifixes and bronze utensils hauled up in the basket. She would love to get a look at the carvings, study what they said, but she was unlikely to ever have a chance. She was here for her diving ability, not her language. None of what they’d discovered today was important to him.
For the first time she could understand the anger Adrian had felt those years ago in Tunisia. At least no one had died on that excavation.
“As a reward, you and I will have a special dinner to celebrate.” He turned, making sure Adrian heard that, before he climbed onto the barge and headed for his yacht.
Mallory didn’t want to think of the time she’d have to spend with Valentine over dinner. She would have to sit face to face with the man who’d murdered Linda in cold blood. She was going to choke on her food.
And then he was on deck, carrying a bottle of wine and a picnic basket as if he’d come courting.
She didn’t acknowledge him as he set out the dinner, popped the cork on the wine, all under the watchful eye of his hired muscle. She did note that he didn’t provide cutting utensils for the meal of fish and salad.
“To a productive day,” Smoller said, saluting her with his glass.
Was he even capable of reasoning with? She’d seen him kill today, with no regret. He wasn’t going to let them walk away unless she could find his humanity.
“The find will be worth a lot more if you catalogue it properly,” she began, toying with the lettuce of her salad. “I’ve seen some priceless items tossed into the basket like bargains at the dollar store. Each of those things could bring you the money you’re looking for, and you’d have the bonus of discovering a Mediterranean ship in the Caribbean. You could live off the money for the rest of your life.”
He sat back and considered her. “Is that what you and Adrian had planned to do?”
“I—” She stopped herself. She had no idea what Adrian had planned to do with the money, other than pay his debts, maybe fund another site. “No. Adrian was writing a book.”
Valentine’s bark of laughter carried over the water. “He can’t sit still that long.”
He did know Adrian. But Mallory refused to be drawn in by his familiarity. “At least he’s not willing to kill for what he wants.”
Valentine leaned on the table and stroked a finger down her cheek. She flinched and he laughed. “Are you certain? I know I saw murder in his eyes when I was holding the gun to your head. Hell, if he could see us now, I’d wager he’d want to kill me.”
She yanked out of his reach as he twined a lock of her hair around his fingers. “He wouldn’t kill an innocent, frightened girl. I never thought you would be capable of something like that. Why would you do it?” The last words came out choked as she thought of the young woman that she hadn’t even liked much, but who’d died so suddenly, so violently, so senselessly.
His brows drew together in an expres
sion of sympathy, but she knew now to look past that into his eyes, the flat eyes of a shark. Had he been like that after Tunisia? She had been so upset, she might not have been able to recognize it.
“Adrian didn’t leave me a choice. Don’t you see?”
How could he think that? “No. I don’t. He was bargaining with you, he was promising you he’d follow directions.”
“And I didn’t believe him. You didn’t believe him—I felt the tension in your body.”
“Because you had a gun to my head!”
“Yet you didn’t think I was capable of shooting anyone.” He leaned back, templing his fingers. “I submit that you didn’t believe Adrian when he promised he would do whatever I told him to do. Now he will, if only to keep you safe. You must remember that the choices you make, that he makes, will come back to you.”
“I trust my husband,” she said stubbornly, hoping he didn’t see through her doubt. Adrian was out in the field for a reason—he didn’t play well with others, especially not the man who stole from him.
“Your husband.” He narrowed his eyes, assessing. “I’ve been meaning to ask you about that. You’ve spent your whole life looking at the past, but doesn’t it get old? I mean, if you’re always looking behind you, how can you ever move forward? Here you are, back with the man you walked away from.”
She couldn’t let him rile her, which was clearly his purpose. If she let her anger overtake her, she might do something stupid and lose her focus. Keeping her focus was key. They had to get out of this alive.
“You held Dr. Vigil’s gambling debts over him to ruin Adrian.”
Smoller sipped from his wine glass. She might be able to break the glass quickly enough to use it as a weapon. As if reading her thoughts, he edged her glass away from her.
“I had so much more than that to hold over him. Robert Vigil was my father.”
Mallory’s insides iced at Smoller’s conversational revelation. She snapped her mouth closed as her mind raced with the implication. She tried several times before she could speak again.
“Your what? Dr. Vigil didn’t have a family.” She searched her memories. No, no mention of a family, of a wife, of a child. She looked closer at the man, could see no resemblance, though he was older than Dr. Vigil had been when she’d met the professor.
“Did he know and walk away?” She couldn’t imagine the man she knew and loved being capable of doing that. He’d loved her so much. She never would have thought he’d walk away from his own flesh and blood.
But then they discovered his betrayal of Adrian, and she realized she hadn’t really known the man. The idea made her stomach clench.
Smoller looked out over the water, fingers playing with the stem of his glass. “He knew. But the job came first. The job, and after a time, his precious Adrian.” He smirked, but she understood the pain in his eyes.
That was why he hated Adrian. Jealousy, and not because of something Adrian controlled. Jealousy over a father’s love.
No wonder Dr. Vigil and Adrian had been so close. They were too alike. And Smoller hated Adrian for it. The little bit of food she’d eaten threatened to rise up her throat.
“Just because your father ignored you, you decided to ruin Adrian?”
“No, of course not.” Smoller waved a casual hand and reached for his wine again. “I did it for the money. I never did understand why my father was happy to play in the dirt, leave his family alone.”
Mallory hated that she could identify with that. She couldn’t afford to sympathize with this man. He was a killer. “There are a lot of things you don’t understand. Like loyalty.”
“Ah, you’re talking about Linda.” He was amazingly nonchalant about the woman he’d shot.
“She was just a girl and you murdered her!”
All of the humor left Smoller’s face as he leaned close to her. “Your lover killed her. Don’t forget that.”
Mallory brushed off a chill at the expression in his eyes. “I’ve lost my appetite.” She pushed her chair back. “Good night, Valentine.”
Adrian was bleary eyed when he walked out on deck the following morning. He’d played Linda’s murder over and over in his mind. No matter how he played it, he couldn’t find a way to stop him. If Smoller was that desperate for the box, Adrian was powerless to stop him from killing them all.
With Smoller, there were five guards, now that one had been disabled from his fast ascension. Adrian had heard the helicopter arrive to take him away last night. At the first sound of rotors, Adrian had bolted, but the largest of Smoller’s men was stationed outside his door, and by the time he’d figured out how to open a window, the helicopter was gone.
He’d stayed awake the rest of the night, torn between replaying how he might have escaped and terrified Smoller had sent Mallory away to fuck with him.
And he’d worked out a plan of escape.
Now he scanned the barge for Mallory. She walked out on the deck of Smoller’s boat wearing shorts and a T-shirt, not even glancing at the gear as her crew prepared for their dive. Was Smoller going to let her in the water?
For a fraction of a second, Adrian considered taking his chance today and leaving without her, then coming back. No, not possible. Hell, he was having a hard time getting into the water without her.
“What’s the holdup?” Smoller demanded, walking out of the pilothouse of his boat. “We’ve got to be getting close. I need you down there.”
As he suited up, Adrian strained to see past him to Mallory, but she’d disappeared. He shook his head, put the regulator between his teeth and dove.
Smoller was right; they had to be getting close. The wreck had been thoroughly compromised. Adrian’s gut twisted to see it. The masthead had been removed, and during the search for the casket, artifacts had been tossed from one part of the ship to another. They’d never learn what they needed to learn from her now.
He’d lost it all on this one, every dime he had, every dime he’d hoped to make. Odd how that was just striking him, the reality of it. Was it sinking in because of the stress of Robert’s death and their kidnapping had kept emotion at a distance, or because of something else? Even with his career and credit ruined, the loss didn’t cut as deep since he’d found Mallory again. He hoped, if they walked away from this, that they’d walk away together.
This time he’d give her the real wedding she’d always wanted. Maybe she’d still wear flowers in her hair, though. She’d been so pretty with the flowers fluttering around her face, up on that hillside. Would she want a stateside wedding? And a house. She’d want a house, and kids, and he was finally ready to give them to her.
Kids. He smiled at the thought of Mallory growing large with his child, nursing it at her breast. He’d fucked up once, he wouldn’t do it again. Yeah, he could see himself inside that white picket fence, chasing a toddler, mowing the lawn, maybe even getting a dog, settling down.
Damn. Bubbles escaped around his regulator as he smiled again. Maybe he’d had too much adventure in the past weeks to be thinking like this. Or maybe Smoller had done him a favor after all. Adrian grinned.
That single thought snapped Adrian to. Where the hell had that come from? Jesus. Oh hell. His thoughts, which had raced through his head moments ago, now moved sluggishly. He watched his hands float in front of his face, had to concentrate to close his fingers into a fist.
Nitrogen narcosis. Rapture of the deep. But he wasn’t so deep, only about a hundred feet. He’d swum deeper than this in the past and not been affected.
The crew had stirred up so much silt trying to get to the rest of the artifacts that when he looked around, he couldn’t see anybody, and no one could see him. He struggled to keep focused, like a drunk behind the wheel. He was an experienced diver; he wouldn’t do anything dumb like take his regulator out of his mouth and try to give it to a passing fish.
No, he’d only planned a wedding to the woman who had left him.
The woman he had to get back to, or else.
; Focus, Adrian.
Okay, well, which way was up? This deep, the sun didn’t filter through the water, and with all the silt floating around him, he couldn’t see the ground, or feel it with the toe of his fin. Even if he felt it, he couldn’t be sure what was real.
This was how experienced divers died. Panic kicked his heart against his ribs. Mallory. If he died, what would happen to her?
He didn’t have time to wait for the silt to dissipate. A delay like that could deplete his oxygen before he reached the surface. He lifted his wrist to his face to check the gauge on his watch to monitor his depth. Purposely, he didn’t look at the air in his tank. He needed to worry about one thing at a time. Okay. His watch told him he was at ninety-eight feet. Keeping his eyes on the readout, he finned in the direction he thought was up.
Uh, no. Moving slowly, deliberately as he continued to fight the effects of the narcosis, he made a U-turn, swam a few feet before checking the computer again. Huh. Still descending. In one part of his mind he knew he’d be concerned if not for the narcosis. He adjusted his angle and finned on, this time checking his air level. He’d already used almost half a tank. Not good. He didn’t have time to find his way out and decompress.
He was screwed.
He kept his breathing shallow, even. He’d better not panic. Even one minute of panic would kill him.
Who knew there were so many possible angles? He’d stopped making such big turns and now just made small adjustments in his quest for the surface. The problem was, he couldn’t swim too far to find the depth or he risked losing too much energy and too much air.
The thought hit him that he should find the guideline. If he didn’t, he’d surface too far from the boat and Smoller would not come after him.
No, he couldn’t worry about that. He had to get to the surface first. Once he had air, he could worry about getting his bearings.
Another wrong turn, and his air supply was dropping fast. How could that be? He checked his computer. More time had passed than he realized as he considered his next move. Damn narcosis. He had less than a quarter tank of air left, as well as the pony tank strapped to his chest. He loved diving, but he’d be damned it he let the ocean get him, so he took every precaution.
