“I didn’t mean it like--” he tried again to explain. “The hell you didn’t! This is bullshit! At the risk of repeating myself… which I hate to do, get your hands off me you--”
“I’m getting very tired of your name-calling,” Royce warned, pulling her off the pathway and into one of the garden rooms. “We will discuss this like adults.”
“Whatever. I’m getting very tired of your pawing me,” Becki mocked, “so why don’t you just let me go.” Becki pushed harder against his chest. Her heart did not want to leave, but they had already been over this once; he didn’t have time for her. God, would this day ever end?
“Stop squirming or you’re going to be embarrassed when I throw you over my shoulder and escort you to my room,” he growled.
All movement abruptly ceased. As she stood perfectly still, focusing somewhere over his left shoulder, Becki said wearily, “You are going to have to make up your mind, Royce. I can’t keep up. I thought you were “behind schedule” and couldn’t possibly fit me in. You were supposed to be leaving town, or did I misunderstand something?” Becki heaved a sigh before suddenly pinning him with her gaze, “You know what? It doesn’t really matter,” she announced.
Feeling as if he had been sucker-punched, he slowly allowed his arms to drop to his sides, giving her the freedom she wanted.
Becki stood against him a moment longer, and then forced herself to step away. She turned and squared her shoulders as her mother’s words echoed through her ears: “True character is measured by the grace in which a person handles life’s disappointments.” This is certainly turning out to be a big disappointment, Momma.
“I am leaving town, but I have to find something first,” Royce admitted. “Can we take a walk?” he asked, reaching out to grasp her hand.
“My turn to say hell no,” Becki answered as she slid her hand easily out of his grasp. “I don’t want to walk with you. I don’t want to talk with you,” Becki elaborated. “Hell, I don’t want to be in the same time zone as you right now.” Sorry Momma, she mentally apologized.
“I’ve been pretty understanding about all this secrecy bullshit, Royce. I didn’t call the police this morning when you traipsed through my living room wearing a hand towel. I bit my tongue even when I wanted more than anything to pressure you for information. You broke into my house, used my washer and dryer, drank my coffee, and took a shower, for-godsake. I had to think about that the whole time I was in there getting ready this morning. Then to top it all off, you kissed me like--”
She was on a roll now and prayed to make to the end without tearing up again. “You kissed me and then walked away without a backward glance. I’ve known you less than twenty-four hours, and you’ve managed to insult me more than anyone I’ve ever known. So you see, I don’t want to deal with you or your precious “time schedule”; and speaking of which, you shouldn’t waste any more of your oh-so-valuable time with me. Goodbye, Royce. Have a great life.”
Whew, she made it. Now, she just needed to get the hell out of here, so she could have a well-deserved melt-down in private. God, he got under her skin like no other. She should be glad to know she would never see him again, the arrogant bastard.
“Please?” Royce took the wind out of her sails with one softly spoken word.
Her brain screamed, Run--don’t walk, as far away as you can. Her heart whispered, Just a little while longer. With Lucifer sitting on one shoulder and an angel sitting on the other, her brain and heart battled it out.
Her heart won. “Ok,” Becki relented, “but I need to find Natie first.”
Royce recaptured her hand and tugged her in the direction of the sea wall that protected The Battery. A walkway, just inside the sea wall, provided a perfect place to stroll, hand-in-hand, while absorbing the beauty and splendor of Charleston. The water in the harbor was a little choppy today, and the occasional gust of wind blew through, but the wind and water always seemed to carry one’s troubles far, far away.
“Oh, the girl you were dragging around like a rag doll?”
“Very funny,” Becki frowned, as she continued to scan the gardens for her sister.
“Don’t worry, she is with Sean, he will take good care of her.”
“Who is Sean?”
“Sean is one of my--, uh--, employees. He is also a good friend.”
“See, that is just what I mean; the ‘uh--’, like you have to think everything through before you speak. That does not inspire trust, Royce,” Becki complained.
“Ok, let me try again. Sean is an employee, but also my friend. I would trust him with my life,” Royce said reassuringly.
“I’m so not able to keep up,” Becki said with a sigh. “You wear me out Royce. You beat me up, and then tear me down. I don’t know what to expect, and about the time I think I have it figured out, you throw a curve ball. I don’t know why I’m here with you now; I should stay as far away as possible, out of self-preservation if nothing else, and yet--” Becki turned to face him looking deeply into his beautiful eyes, and quietly admitted, “and yet, I can’t seem to help myself. How crazy is that?”
“It’s not crazy,” Royce responded hollowly.
Becki rolled her eyes before clarifying, “That was another rhetorical question.”
Moving closer to the sea wall, she leaned out to look at the barnacles collecting on the lower portion of the wall before confiding, “I don’t really know you; I don’t really know anything about you. I do know you are keeping secrets, and you must be involved in something dangerous if the tat is at all significant. You never did explain why you have one so similar to Kurt’s.”
Royce shoved his hands in his front pockets, trying to figure out how to respond to everything she had just said without lying to her again. While he was still formulating, Becki whispered a confession that shot an arrow straight through his heart.
“I’m a little afraid of you,” she said softly, staring intently at Fort Sumter in the distance.
Becki felt his hands descend on her shoulders, and gently turned her to face him. He bent his knees slightly, bringing his face down to meet hers at eye level.
“You don’t ever have to be afraid of me,” he managed. “I told you this morning that I would not hurt you. I won’t,” he promised again. “You have my word.”
Realizing that he had misunderstood her words, she cupped his face in both hands and explained, “I don’t mean that I’m afraid of you physically. I know you are an honorable man, Royce; that much I do know. But there are so many things I don’t know.” Sliding her hands to rest flat on his chest, she continued, “Important things; like…who are you, really? And don’t give me that ‘home security’ story. I’m not buying it,” she warned. “How did you get here? What is it that you have to find?” Eventually she got to the heart of the matter, “Do you have a wife waiting for you somewhere, a girlfriend? Those are the things I am afraid of, Royce, the things that could potentially hurt me.”
“You are precious,” he said, dropping a quick buzz on her nose. He plucked one of her hands from his chest, and began walking again, leaving her no choice but to move with him.
“I direct and manage a team of recovery experts, a division of ART Security. There was a collection of artifacts, coins, stolen quite some time ago. The coin collection was eventually divided and then scattered around the world. One piece of the collection was last seen here, in Charleston. I’m trying to locate and return it to the rightful owners. Then my team will move on to recover the next, and then the next, until we have recovered them all,” Royce explained, sticking to the truth, but not the whole truth.
Becki stopped short and turned to face him. “Seriously, Royce? You are just looking for a bunch of old coins? That’s it? That’s the secret?” she played him, batting her eyes like the idiot he seemed to think she was.
“I can help you find them, Royce; I’m good at treasure hunting. I have a knack for finding things. Just yesterday, I found the coolest crate while Jonah and I were hunting sharks’ t
eeth.”
Obviously, she was not going let it go easily, so Royce presented one more detail, “The collection is worth a lot of money, Becki.”
“Do you realize you have never shown any interest in the crate that was stolen from my back yard?” Becki pressed suddenly. “Kurt acted really funny about that, Royce, and I thought at the time he was being overprotective. I’ve thought about your conversation with him, and the fact that I had to leave my own deck so you could talk privately. Something is not adding up, Royce. Are you really here just to look for some coins that a collector hired you to find?”
“I am,” Royce answered in all honesty.
“Great, then I can help.” Pulling out her cell phone, she opened messaging and looked at Royce with an expectant expression, “Explain what you are looking for, and I can get some of my friends…”
“No.”
“No?” Becki repeated.
“No,” Royce repeated firmly.
Becki’s phone beeped at that moment and flashed message from Natie; Catch ya this pm 6 at Kurt’s”
As he watched Becki respond to the text message, he thought about his current predicament. Finding this coin was proving to be more difficult than he had initially anticipated. The Council thought they were getting close to being able to lift the cloaks currently surrounding each coin. Sean was here hoping to use the new software and receptors he had developed to pick up a trail of digital bread crumbs that should have been left behind by the coins. He was not certain how long the digital trail might last or how close to the trail the receptors had to be in order to pick it up. The software was still in the final stages of development, but if Sean could collect enough data at this location, he might be able to better use the technology to locate the remaining coins.
Joanna would be arriving in the morning to work the magic angle; together, hopefully, they could peek through the cloaking spells.
Coins and spells. Grim reminders to Royce that he could not allow himself to be become emotionally entwined with someone like Becki. Someone good, someone blissfully unaware of all things immortal, someone unaware of the reality that things do go bump in the night, someone sweet and innocent.
“That was Natie,” Becki announced. “Come to think of it, she could help too. Now, back to my original question: What is it exactly that we should be looking for?”
Turning to look across the water at Fort Sumter, Royce pulled Becki close to his side and tucked her under his arm. “I’m not going there with you Becki, so just stop. I can’t share the details of the recovery mission; the owner insists on privacy.” Regretfully he continued, “I also can’t get involved with you.”
Becki immediately stiffened and shifted to pull away from him.
“I can’t get involved; no matter how intelligent, sexy, and beautiful you are,” Royce pinned her once again with his beautiful eyes, continuing, “not because I don’t want to, but because I can’t.”
Royce still held onto her, cherishing these few moments, tucking away a memory to pull out on a lonely day. His thoughts drifted to the coin collector, the one found dead in Savannah. He stiffened his resolve and forced himself to say, “There are things you wouldn’t understand; things I can’t tell you. Unscrupulous people are involved; people who will hurt or kill anyone who gets in their way. I can’t risk it, Becki. I can’t risk you being in danger because of me and what I do.”
“Wow, I guess I just don’t appreciate antiques and art near-enough, because I’ve never seen anything worth killing someone for. In fact, most of what is considered ‘art’ seems just plain ugly to me.”
Royce chuckled. “You have a point there. I do wish things were different, Becki. You are a breath of fresh air. Someone will be very lucky to call you his own.”
“By someone, you mean someone other than you,” Becki clarified, her arm around his waist, her head tipped looking at him from under long dark lashes. “If that is how you feel, then you need to stop kissing me and stop with all this touchy-feely stuff, because you are sending mixed signals. I know you feel what I feel, or at least something similar, and to think that you can just turn and walk away from it, from me-”
She stood watching emotions play over his face-- waiting for Royce to say something.
“Can you do that Royce? Can you really do that?” she whispered hopefully.
Becki felt her heart breaking as she saw the answer in his eyes.
The moment was shattered by someone calling her name.
“Becki? Hi doll, how goes it?”
Trevor Simmons, cruising by in his Porsche 911 convertible, was just what she needed…a knight in shining armor. And what a chariot he possessed!
Royce’s silence was answer enough. Sliding her arms from where they were still resting around Royce’s waist, she stepped quickly toward the car. Pretending her heart wasn’t breaking, and pretending she didn’t care, she pasted on a smile.
“Hi Trev, give me a ride?” she asked.
“Sure Babe. I’ll give you a ride anytime…anywhere.” Trevor made a production of raking his eyes up and down her body, leering as if she were all his bad-boy fantasies rolled into one. “It will be my pleasure doll,” he assured her. After casting an I-got-the-girl look at Royce, he turned back to Becki promising, “And yours, I guarantee it.”
“Take me away, Trev,” Becki whispered, her smile slipping just a little.
He smiled wickedly, “Hop on, I mean in. Let me make your dreams come true doll face.”
Becki climbed in, forced a flirty laugh, and said, “I’m just dying for someone to make my dreams come true.”
# Royce watched as Becki drove away with the other man, leaving him standing alone. Just like you wanted, right? If he were being honest, he felt the separation to the pit of his stomach. It felt like something was being ripped from his soul; an unfamiliar, and somewhat painful sensation.
“Oh shit, Dude, what’s she doing with him?” Sean asked as he approached Royce.
“Hmmm? Oh, he’s a friend of hers evidently; she needed a ride back to her car,” Royce responded, not fully engaged in the conversation. He was busy wishing his life were different. In that moment, Royce wished to be an ordinary guy, a banker maybe with an ordinary nine-to-five day job. Who was he kidding? That would drive him nuts inside a month.
“I hope not,” Sean continued, his tone serious for once, “that’s one deadly friend.”
“Deadly friend,” now that got Royce’s attention.
“Speak to me in English Sean; clear, concise sentences, starting now.”
Sean knew Royce meant business, which must mean that Royce must be more involved with Becki than he was willing to admit. The kissing episode in the park might have been Sean’s first clue, but now Royce was going all “deadly-special-forces” on him. There was definitely something brewing here.
“Do you need a definition of NOW?” Royce thundered.
“Well,” Sean quickly responded, “that was one Trevor Simmons – Warlock Extraordinaire. He’s been on our radar for the past couple of years. He was in Savannah around the time the coin collector turned up dead. Trevor has been keeping less-than-desirable company, as in bloodsuckers. And, his bank account seems to have a steady flow of deposits, large deposits.”
Royce felt his heart stop. How did Becki figure in with a warlock who was likely a murderer and kept company with night walkers? What did she know, and why was Trevor interested in her? This changed things, a whole plethora of things. Becki had no idea of the danger she was in. He had to find a way to protect her while keeping her at a distance. He had to be able to think clearly. He could never forgive himself if he let something happen to Becki.
“Pin him,” Royce said, referring to a process of tagging an individual so they could track their movements. The process involved scanning a person’s aura to capture DNA traces, a technology recently developed by ART. Sean, a geek with too much time on his hands, was somewhat of a genius. The process had just been perfected, and they were beginning to
use it more and more.
“I may be able to grab a shimmer, but he wasn’t here very long,” Sean cautioned as he grabbed a gadget out of his back pocket. Holding a device that closely resembled a cell phone, he began punching buttons, walking around in circles, and waiving the phone-like gadget frantically in large circles.
“You have to get it, Sean. We need to find Trevor. I don’t know why he’s here, but I suspect it has something to do with the coin. I do not want Becki caught in the back-lash of this mess,” Royce said. He stopped his pacing long enough to observe, “You look like an idiot doing that, and you’re attracting attention.”
A family out for a stroll stopped short when they saw Sean waving his arms around. The parents actually crossed to the other side of the street, shepherding their children tightly together and forming a protective wall between them and the “mad man”.
Giving them a nod, Royce just smiled.
The mother could be heard instructing the children to “stare straight ahead and don’t look at them.”
“Tomorrow we’ll go to the aquarium, right Mom?” The oldest child asked. “Hopefully, they screen people before they let them in there.”
“Sean, wrap it up,” Royce said tersely, feeling sweat gather in the small of his back. It was quite warm out even with a slightly stronger breeze than normal.
“I’ve got nothing, Boss; I’m not picking up even the slightest shimmer of Trevor’s aura. I’m sorry,” Sean sighed. “We’ll have to set a TRAP.”
The Techno Residual Aura Procurement device (TRAP) had been developed as a DNA collection mechanism. The advanced technology allowed for nonintrusive collection of DNA by trapping residual aura. The Aura was then decoded and transposed into DNA. The resulting DNA could be fed into Sean’s system and used to track or pin-point the subject.
Treasure Tides (The Coins) Page 7
