Barefoot in Pearls (Barefoot Bay Brides Book 3)

by Roxanne St Claire

  “It’s been rumored for years in the archaeology world,” she told him, all the information she’d been given spilling out faster than he could likely process. “The ships are still out there, but have never been discovered. But there’s folklore, and possibly some archaeological clues to support it, that when the San Pedro was going down, the sailors managed to get some of the gold off the ship and drag it through shallow waters to a small island. A small island, Luke.”

  “Like Mimosa Key.”

  “Yes. An offshoot tribe of the Calusa lived here, as proven by many of the artifacts in that box. They may have hidden the gold.”

  “That’s insane.”

  No kidding. “Speaking of insane, Dr. Marksman was out of his mind with excitement. This would be a monumental find, obviously. He called it the Lost Gold of the Calusa, and he said archaeologists and even treasure hunters have been looking for it for years, but much farther north. No one ever thought there were Calusa Indians living this far south until we found all that stuff hidden in the house. Oh, and Luke, that core sample? It’s not even from Mimosa Key!”

  “I know,” Luke said gruffly. “And Marksman thinks this legendary ‘lost gold’ is on Cutter’s property?”

  “Some of it, at least. The rest is at sea. But, Luke, if there’s gold on that property, it technically belongs to Cutter, although I suppose there are legal hoops to jump through.” She managed a smile. “But I have a feeling he won’t be too upset about the delay.”

  But Luke didn’t smile. If anything, he looked angry.

  “Don’t you believe me?”

  “Of course I believe you, Arielle, look at this place. Someone is willing to go to a lot of trouble and”—he practically growled with anger—“I don’t want you anywhere near it.”

  “I won’t stay here tonight,” she assured him. “We need to report this, and we have to tell Cutter. He’s going to want to search the land, and once this gets out, we can expect Barefoot Bay to be inundated with treasure hunters.”

  He wasn’t even listening. He kept looking around the room, as if thinking, a storm brewing from the inside out. “It’s always like this,” he mumbled.

  “What?”

  “People lose their wits, their ability to think.” He sliced her with a gaze darkened by a world of hurt. “Gold makes people stupid and dangerous and deadly.”

  Maybe it did, but something was making him furious. “Deadly?”

  “Where there’s gold, there’s…murder. Always.”

  A chill crawled up her back, a menacing ice pick of a sensation that matched the tone of his voice. “No one’s been murdered, Luke.” She said it almost to reassure herself because he looked so certain.

  “And no one’s going to be. Not on my watch.” He put his hands on her shoulders and gave her a nudge. “Let’s go. And not a word about gold, Arielle. Not to the cops when you report this robbery, not to my sister, not to anyone. Do you understand? Has Dr. Marksman told anyone?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t think so…” She slowed her step and took a moment to feel the low level of something dark and scary, not just in his words, but all through the apartment. It wasn’t like the greed she’d felt at the house on the hill, though it was similar.

  No, this was deeper and darker and far more sinister. This was more like…desperation. Extreme desperation.

  Chapter Twenty-two

  It was late and Luke was starving by the time they finished with the two deputies from the Collier County Sheriff’s Department who took a report and walked through Arielle’s apartment. Gussie and Tom had whisked Alex off to Tom’s house, both of them wanting her as far away from the robbery as possible. Of course, they’d insisted Arielle and Luke stay with them for the night, but Luke had a few things he wanted to do first.

  He whipped his truck into the Super Min’s parking lot for errand number one.

  “Why are you stopping here?” Arielle asked.

  “I need to talk to the lady who owns the place. Does she work nights?”

  “Sometimes, but if Charity’s not here, someone can find her. Why do you want to talk to her?”

  “I want to know more about that guy who said he was going up to the property,” he said vaguely, climbing out. “Come with me.”

  She didn’t ask any more questions, but then Arielle had been pretty quiet for the last few hours, answering the deputies’ questions, staying close to Luke, barely talking to Gussie as the evening’s events progressed.

  He hustled around the truck to help her out, but when she slipped her hand into his, he felt an involuntary shudder. There was a time when he would have thought that little shudder was the impact of their mutual chemistry. Now, he saw fear in her eyes.

  And all he wanted to do was erase it.

  A teenage girl looked up from the counter when the bell dinged to announce their entry, her age making Luke wonder how difficult it would be to get information out of her, but Arielle instantly smiled.

  “Ashley, I didn’t know you worked here.”

  “Oh, hi, Ari. I come in every once in a while when Charity is in a bind.” She leaned forward and whispered, “She can’t keep good help. Shocker, huh?”

  “This is Lacey Walker’s daughter,” Arielle told Luke. “Ashley, this is Luke McBain, Gussie’s brother.”

  Luke didn’t wait for the introduction formalities to be over. “Do you know how we can reach your boss?” he asked. “I need to ask her a few questions.”

  “She’s in the back doing the books.” Ashley pointed over her shoulder to a locked door. “And if I know Charity and her closed-circuit cameras, she’ll be—”

  The back door popped open. “What do you want from me?” Charity wasted no energy on a friendly smile, which, at the moment, suited Luke just fine.

  Ashley bit back a smile and shared a look with Arielle, but Luke walked closer. “Do you remember you told us about a man who was going up to the North Barefoot Bay property the other morning?”

  Her brows furrowed, but she nodded.

  “Did you get his name or personal information?”

  “Why do you need to know?”

  “None of your business,” he shot back. “But I know you like to gather personal information, so don’t even try to tell me you didn’t.”

  An eyebrow—well, a dark line painted to look like a brow—arched up over her reading glasses. “Everything is my—”

  “Not this,” he said, cutting her off. “This is a matter of grave importance. Did you or did you not get his name?”

  She crossed her arms and narrowed her eyes, meeting his gaze in challenge. But he flattened her with one of his own, knowing the power of how important this was coming through every cell in his body.

  “No,” she finally said. “He was a miserable prick who wouldn’t tell me his name.” She threw a look at Ashley. “Sorry, kid.”

  Ashley shrugged. “Believe me, I know what a miserable prick is.”

  “Can you describe him in more detail?” Luke asked. “Clothes, hair, size, anything distinct about him?”

  “If I know why you need to know.”

  Arielle stepped forward. “My apartment was broken into this afternoon, Charity. We think that man who you said came in here and bought Red Bull and a newspaper might be able to help us.” She reached out and put a hand on Charity’s arm. “I feel so violated,” she admitted softly. “And I want to find out who did this to me and my apartment.”

  Her technique worked better than his, making Charity soften visibly.

  “Bastard,” the woman mumbled with another apologetic look at Ashley. “I suppose you know what that is, too.”

  “All too well,” Ashley said.

  “No, I didn’t get his name,” Charity told them. “He was big and husky, talked on the phone the whole time.”

  “I thought you said he told you he was going up to the property,” Luke said.

  She managed to look sheepish. “He said it into his phone, not to me.”

  Irritation roc
ked him. “What else did he say into that phone?”

  “Nothing I remember,” she said. “But his fingernails were filthy.”

  “His fingernails?” Arielle asked.

  “Like he’d been digging in dirt?” Luke suggested.

  “Exactly,” Charity said. “Stubby, dirty nails and a big hairy chest. Sorry, but that’s all I got. And next time y’all are pickin’ at me for asking questions”—she pointed one of her long nails at Arielle, then Ashley—“remember that some people want answers.”

  Luke thanked her and put his hand on Arielle’s shoulder to guide her out, aware that she was looking hard at him. “What is it?” he asked.

  “I totally forgot to tell you about the weird note I got in the mail.”

  He blinked at her. “What weird note?”

  “A couple of days ago I got this typed note in snail mail that said”—she frowned, remembering—“‘Put the pearls back where you found them.’”

  He drew back, not even sure where to begin with that information. “Why didn’t you tell me that? Who knows you found those pearls? And where are they now?”

  She stopped the onslaught with a raised hand. “I said I forgot. I didn’t think anyone was looking for pearls in my apartment because I was focused on the gold. And you’re the only person who knows about the pearls.”

  “Did they take them?”

  She shook her head. “I put them in a safe-deposit box after I got that note.”

  He guided her up to the passenger seat in his truck. “I have a bad feeling about this.”

  “And here I thought I’m the one with all the feelings.”

  “Not anymore, Little Mermaid.”

  * * *

  Ari curled into the overstuffed guest chair in the corner of the Barefoot Brides office, watching Luke silently tap away at her computer. He was searching for a tech trail on the e-mail that she’d sent to the person who’d run the ad looking for the pearl necklace. On the conference table, she’d laid out the unsigned note and envelope she’d saved.

  Threads of thoughts, knots of possibilities, and a few loose ends threatened to tangle in her head as she went through what they knew and didn’t about this situation. There was gold, there were pearls, there was land, and her apartment had been trashed. The pressure of stress, exhaustion, hunger, and worry made her close her eyes and drift off.

  Footsteps in the hall, fast and light, followed by a soft shriek startled her back awake.

  “Elijah! Get back here!”

  Suddenly, a tiny strawberry-blond head appeared in the doorway, almost immediately followed by Lacey Walker, who snagged her son.

  “Oh, hello!” She choked out the greeting and scooped up the toddler, who shrieked again with joy. “I’m afraid our game of hide-and-seek got out of control.”

  “Hi, Lacey,” Ari said, sitting up and fighting a yawn while Luke greeted her.

  She looked from one to the other, shifting Elijah’s weight to her hip. “What are you two doing here so late?”

  “Just some research,” Luke said quickly.

  “My apartment was broken into,” Ari added glumly, knowing Lacey would find out soon enough. The news elicited a gasp from Lacey. “No one was hurt,” Ari assured her. “But Luke’s helping me.”

  Lacey shook her head. “I hate to hear about any kind of crime on Mimosa Key. It’s always been such a safe place to live, but we’re growing. The resort, now the baseball team, and a lot of expansion and change happening in a few years.”

  “I don’t think this had anything to do with the resort or the Barefoot Bay Bucks coming to town,” Ari said.

  “Still.” Lacey shifted the child in her arms, but he arched his back, ready to run again. “Did you call the sheriff?”

  “Oh, yeah, and we’re not staying there tonight.”

  “Where are you staying?”

  Luke gestured to the overnight bag of clothes they’d brought from home. “We’re bunking at Tom’s house with Gussie and Alex.”

  “I don’t think so,” Lacey said quickly. “Acacia is empty.” She glanced at Luke. “It’s one of our villas, right on the water. You should stay there. It’s not huge, but you’d be so much more comfortable, and honestly, it’s not booked for a few more days. You’re welcome to it.”

  The thought of a whole night in the villa with Luke sent an unholy heat through Ari.

  “That is so generous of you,” he said before Ari could answer. “We’d love to take you up on that offer. Right, Arielle?”

  As if she could refuse. “If it’s not a problem, Lacey.”

  “None at all. Have you had dinner? We can get something sent over from Junonia.”

  Gratitude washed over Ari, making her stand and fight back the burn of unexpected tears. “Oh, Lacey, that’s so sweet of you.”

  “Of course, no problem.” Lacey tipped her head and patted Elijah’s back with a slow, motherly beat, a hand that could somehow calm anyone and anything. Instantly, Elijah dropped his head on his mama’s shoulder. “You’ve been through a trauma today.”

  “We have,” Ari agreed, remembering how so many of the Casa Blanca employees commented on Lacey’s maternal streak. Right now, being mothered felt as good to Ari as it must to Elijah. “And not having to sleep in a guest room or on a sofa at Tom’s house is a blessing.”

  “Well, it’s one of our smaller villas, but I’m sure you’ll be comfortable,” she said. “And the chef has a pasta special tonight that I’ve heard is getting rave reviews. We’ll send it over with a bottle of wine.” She lifted an eyebrow, taking in Ari’s face. “Or two.”

  Ari laughed softly and reached out, giving Lacey and her son a hug. “Thank you. This has been a wretched day.”

  “Then get some rest in Acacia and enjoy a good dinner,” Lacey said. “In the meantime, I hope they find whoever did it and throw them in jail. Did they take anything super valuable?”

  In truth, they’d taken nothing. Not so much as a piece of costume jewelry. And, somehow, that was even creepier than if she’d been cleaned out. “Just my general sense of security.”

  Lacey looked sympathetic. “I’m so sorry, Ari. Not feeling like you’re safe in your own home has got to be the worst part. At least tonight you’ll have a safe place to stay and a very strong man to protect you.”

  Ari smiled. “True. Luke was a bodyguard in his previous job.”

  Lacey lifted her eyebrows, interested. “That’s a handy kind of man to have around. I’ve been thinking about beefing up resort security. Maybe I’ll pick your brain one of these days.”

  “Anytime,” he said. “Consider it payback for the villa.”

  “Great plan. I’ll call the front desk, and they’ll have a key to Acacia ready for you in a few minutes.”

  Elijah wormed and wiggled as Lacey blew a kiss and left them alone. Luke turned again, half-smiling. “Why’d you tell her I was a bodyguard?”

  She waited a minute, then answered honestly. “Because you were, and I think it’s cool.”

  He pushed away from her computer, standing slowly. “You don’t know the whole story.”

  “Then tell me.”

  “I’d rather not.”

  Bristling, she looked hard at him. “I’d rather you did.”

  “Why?”

  “Because you’re…” She swallowed hard. “You’re important to me.”

  He looked down, avoiding her eyes. “You think that, but—”

  “I know that,” she fired back. “I feel that, and I know that doesn’t always mean much to you, but it’s powerful to me, Luke. I feel that you’re important in my life, and I care about your past and what you did and how it happened and how it formed you into the man you are today.”

  He suddenly looked…pained. His eyes grew dark, his lips tight and grim, his jaw clenched.

  Why did he hate it so much when she cared? What was he afraid of?

  He finally lifted his gaze to meet hers. “I’m not qualified to be in security—”

  “Come on,
Luke. No one cares that you were in the Foreign Legion and not some more ‘respected’ organization. You did it. You can handle a gun. You worked as a bodyguard.”

  “Not a very good one.”

  She opened her mouth to launch the next argument, but instead said, “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “What happened?”

  “Short version? The person I was protecting died.”

  “How?”

  “I killed him.”

  “Oh.” She took a slow breath, not sure what to say to that.

  “And when I did, the bullet also went right through the heart of the woman I loved.”

  She just stared at him.

  “So, bottom line, I’m a shitty bodyguard. Drop the subject, okay?”

  She mouthed the only possible answer. “Okay.”

  Chapter Twenty-three

  There were a lot of things Luke liked about Arielle Chandler, chief among them the way she looked as she walked around the back patio of the villa after dinner, pausing to sip her wine, or gaze at the moon over the bay, or dip the very tip of her toe in the bubbles of the Jacuzzi in the corner of the pool.

  Her hair glistened in the ambient light from beyond the French doors, and her body, dressed in a gauzy long dress that hinted at the curves underneath, was high on his list of favorite things.

  But the thing he really appreciated—especially tonight—was that she wasn’t a demander. He’d dropped a bomb what was now hours ago, telling her something he’d never even told his sister or parents, and she hadn’t once insisted he say more.

  Most women would be, You killed him? And her? Why? What happened? But not Arielle. They had walked along the stone path to the small villa centrally located at Casa Blanca, and while he opened the wine, she’d showered and changed. After a drink, they shared a delicious dinner.

  All the while, they talked about the robbery, the pearls, the mysterious message, and the shipwrecked gold that might or might not be hidden somewhere on Cutter Valentine’s property.

  They asked each other questions, they posed possible answers, they strategized about their next move and how they would tell Cutter. After dinner, they took their wine glasses poolside, to the patio that offered a gorgeous view of the gulf and the moon-drenched sands of Barefoot Bay.