by Zoe York
“He thinks the accent helps him get chicks,” Jackson said to her. “But he’s from Chicago.”
“But I was born in Venezia,” Leo said, his dark eyes still gleaming. “And my entire extended family still lives there, so I can claim it if I want to.”
Jackson rolled his eyes. “We don’t have time for this. We should get to the boat.”
“Of course,” said Leo with a wink at Charlotte. “May I help you with your things, my dear?”
She didn’t have much—just her purse with the atlas and her airport shopping bag with her old clothes stuffed inside—so she shook her head. “I’m fine, but thanks.”
“Come on,” Jackson said, slipping a hand against her lower back and leading her to the car. She ignored the tremor his touch sent up her spine.
Moments later, they were on their way from the airport into the city itself. Leo was driving, while Jackson had settled into the backseat with her.
“Everything’s ready to go when we arrive,” Leo said. “Xavier and Alexei were just returning with some supplies when I left.”
“Good,” said Jackson.
“Any more encounters with Nash’s guys?”
“Not since we left Atlanta. Any word on Tav?”
“No.”
An uneasy silence fell between the men. Charlotte understood very little of what they were discussing, but that only made her more curious.
“How many of you are there?” she heard herself ask. “On your team, I mean.”
“Nine,” said Jackson, at the same time Leo said, “Ten.” There was another uncomfortable silence, until Leo told her, “There are only six of us coming today. Roth has the rest taking care of some other things.” He grinned at her in the rear-view mirror. “Don’t worry, there’s plenty of room for you.”
Jackson shifted beside her. “Just as long as everyone behaves themselves.”
“I always behave myself,” Leo countered, his smile widening.
Jackson shot a warning look at his teammate, though she doubted Leo saw it. She decided to shift the topic slightly.
“How long have you guys been doing this?” she asked. “The treasure hunting?” It still felt silly to call it that out loud, but Leo didn’t even blink.
“Roth’s been doing it the longest,” he said. “Fifteen years, maybe more. He didn’t put together this team until about three years ago, though. Handpicked everyone himself so we’d get a balanced set of skills between us. I’ve been here since the beginning. Jacky back there is our newest member. He hasn’t even been with us a year yet. Became a full member back in December.”
Jackson shifted in his seat. “That’s enough, Leo. You don’t need to bore her with our entire history.”
But Charlotte was the opposite of bored. Instead, her mind was working rapidly as the pieces fell into place.
“December…” she murmured, half to herself. The month Jackson had left her. But that didn’t make sense. He’d been disappearing on mysterious trips the whole time they were together.
“He had a pretty rigorous probationary period before that,” Leo continued as if he’d read her mind. “Half the team wasn’t convinced we needed another member. Complained it would just make each of our shares smaller, adding in another person. But our Jacky’s one of the best.”
“That’s enough,” said Jackson, clearly ready to end the conversation. But there was a knot in Charlotte’s stomach and a lump in her throat that threatened to choke her. Parts of his last letter to her were suddenly making a whole lot more sense. His words rang loud and clear through her mind: I knew the moment I met you that this would be a mistake, that I’d only end up hurting you, but I couldn’t help myself.
“You knew,” she whispered. “You were already involved in all of this, and you’d decided from the beginning that you’d leave me when they made you a full member of the team.”
Jackson slid closer to her and touched her gently on the cheek. “It wasn’t like that, Goose. I was only trying to protect you.”
“Bullshit!” She slapped his hand away. “And I told you to stop calling me that.”
He let out a long breath, but he didn’t move away from her. His nearness was suffocating, but she had nowhere to go in this car.
“I thought it would be easier for you,” he said after a moment. “It was one thing when I was just training with them—I mean, I felt bad enough then about leaving you so often. But once they let me on as a full-fledged member of the team, I knew things would change. I’d be gone all the time. Doing all sorts of dangerous shit. I didn’t want to put you through that. It wouldn’t have been fair to you.”
She let out a bitter laugh. “If you were concerned about my feelings, you should have asked me.” Both her eyes and throat burned now, but she refused to acknowledge either. “If you were concerned about my feelings, you wouldn’t have sneaked out in the middle of the night and left me some bullshit note.”
He reached for her again. “Charlie—”
She blocked his touch once more. “This isn’t… I mean, I’m not…” Emotions washed through her, one after the other: pain. Heartache. Regret. And then, eventually, a strange, twisted sense of relief. She’d finally gotten a proper explanation for why he’d left. And in the wake of everything else, that understanding left her feeling strangely cold and calm.
“You needed your freedom,” she said, and she didn’t feel like she was about to cry anymore. He started to speak, but she cut him off. “I understand. Honestly. You wanted to see the world. To do exciting, dangerous things. And truly, this life suits you—at least from what I’ve seen so far. This was a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity for you, and I was holding you back. Don’t argue—you needed the freedom to do this for yourself. I can see that.”
He was quiet for a long time after that, but he was still sitting so close that she could smell the sweat on his skin, could see the sunlight bouncing off the thin layer of sandy-colored stubble on his chin. She was afraid to look him in the eyes. A stillness had settled over her, and as long as she maintained her composure, as long as she had that control, she thought she’d be all right. She couldn’t blame Jackson for the decision he’d made. He’d just spent the last year traveling around the world, living a life of adventure. She’d spent that same time working the same dull nine-to-five job she’d had for nearly eight years. Forever afraid to take that leap.
She felt the barest touch of fingers against her hair. “Sometimes people just move in different directions, Charlie.”
And sometimes one person moves and the other is too afraid to do anything but stay where she is. After all, the only reason she was here at all right now was because Jackson had shown up at her door. If it weren’t for him, she’d probably have spent the last twenty-four hours digging through paperwork and begging her boss not to fire her.
Up in the front seat, Leo coughed, and Charlotte shrank away from Jackson. For a moment, she’d forgotten they weren’t alone. Jackson, however, seemed unconcerned by the fact that they had a witness.
“Charlie, I—”
“How far to the boat?” she asked Leo, unwilling to have this conversation right now.
“Uh, about fifteen minutes, I’d guess,” said Leo, looking a little amused at the drama playing out in the backseat.
“We’ll continue this talk later,” Jackson said, low enough that only she could hear. She could tell by his tone that he had no intention of letting her escape this conversation a second time.
Her cheeks burned as she turned to look out the window. Jackson shifted slightly away from her, but the backseat still felt too small, too close—or maybe it was just that, near or far, he affected her completely. He always had, whether she liked it or not.
Charlotte forced herself to focus on the strange new world outside the car, and though she couldn’t completely forget the presence of Jackson beside her, she soon found herself enthralled by the city around her. Split was nothing like she’d imagined. Below them, a thousand red-orange roofs gleamed
in the rising sun, and beyond that, the Adriatic Sea shone a bright turquoise blue. She’d never seen anywhere like it. It was half modern city—complete with grimy advertisements on every corner and stray cats scampering down the side streets—and half historical wonder. She kept catching glimpses of a white tower poking out among the roofs down near the water.
“That’s Diocletian’s Palace down there,” came Jackson’s voice at her ear. “Built by the Roman emperor of the same name. They let you climb the bell tower. If you have a chance, you should. The view is amazing.”
He spoke to her as if she were on a vacation instead of possibly running for her life. But another thing struck her about his comment—he’d been here before. He’d probably been to a lot of places since he’d left her, while she’d never left Atlanta once in that time.
She spent the rest of the ride alternating between wonder and regret. But soon enough, they reached the marina, and she felt her excitement taking the lead as Leo and Jackson led her down one of the many docks. There must have been hundreds of boats here.
“This is us,” Leo said, stopping in front of a sailing yacht. “Thirty-seven feet of pure beauty, isn’t she?”
Charlotte knew nothing of sailing, but even she had to admit that it was a beautiful boat. It shone white and bright beneath the sun. There were two men on the boat’s deck, messing with some ropes on the far end of the vessel, and they looked over and called out a greeting to Jackson, who waved back.
“Come on,” Jackson said to her. “The sooner we leave, the better.” He led her toward the edge of the dock, to the end of the warped board they were apparently using as a gangplank. The thing was only about ten inches wide, but she had at least seven feet of water to cross between the dock and the boat. When she placed a foot on the board, it wobbled from side to side.
Jackson’s hand pressed gently against the small of her back.
“Don’t think about it,” he said softly in her ear. “Just run across.”
“Run?”
“If you try to do it slowly, it’ll shake,” he said. “Go quickly, and you’ll be fine.”
“If you say so.”
He laughed. “If you fall, I’ll fish you out of the water myself.”
Something about the tone of his voice said he’d enjoy that a little too much. Thanks for the vote of confidence, she thought. But she was the one who’d insisted on coming on this adventure. She didn’t come this far to balk at boarding a boat, of all things. Courage bolstered, she launched herself forward. The board wobbled beneath her, but within two quick steps, she found herself safely on the deck.
Jackson and Leo crossed behind her. And as she looked around, unsure of where to go, two more men emerged from the cabin below the deck.
“My man!” said the first, bounding right past her and giving Jackson a playful punch in the side. While Leo had appeared to be roughly the same age as Jackson—early thirties or so—this new arrival looked a little younger. He was also the stockiest of the three, and like Leo, he wore only a pair of shorts, showing off the muscles he’d clearly worked quite hard for—and an entire body full of tattoos. He had a pair of designer sunglasses pushed up against his jet black hair and a beer in his hand.
“A little early to be drinking, isn’t it, Toshi?” said Jackson, grinning.
The younger man returned his smile. “You have to try this stuff Leo found. This is much better than the cheap shit we have back in the States.”
The second man was older and a little more reserved—and he seemed less than amused by the others’ conversation. He was tall with ash-colored hair that had started to go gray at the temples, and there was something in his eyes—a worldliness, perhaps—that automatically gave him an air of authority.
“Do we have it?” the older man said, and he didn’t need to specify what he meant. His steel-colored eyes locked right on her, and she fought the urge to wither beneath that sharp, direct gaze.
The other two had fallen silent. She felt Jackson step up beside her, felt a reassuring touch of his hand against her back.
“She’s got it,” Jackson told the older man. “This is Charlotte Carver.” He gave her side a soft squeeze. “Charlie, this is Roth.”
“Lucas Roth,” the older man said, proffering his hand.
Warily, she accepted his greeting, clasping his fingers. His grip was firm, his eyes assessing as they roamed over her and finally came to settle on the purse she clutched closely to her side.
“It’s in there,” he said. It wasn’t a question, but she felt the need to say something in response.
“Yes.”
Jackson still had his arm around her, a silent gesture of support for which she was extremely grateful. She knew she should move away, but as she glanced around at the boat full of men—all of whom appeared to be much larger and stronger than her—she was fully aware of how out of her element she was.
Or how lucky I am, she thought, giving this team of Jackson’s another look. Maybe she was just delusional from exhaustion, but most of these men were incredibly attractive. Even Roth, for all of his sternness, had something about him that made her curious about the man beneath the frown.
Though it was easy to forget that with the way he was looking at her.
“It’s probably safer if I hold onto the atlas,” he said, holding out his hand.
Her stomach tightened, but she silently cursed at herself for being an idiot. She’d known she’d have to give up the atlas eventually. There was no point in delaying it. Still, she felt a twinge of sadness as she handed it over, as if she were losing a little bit of herself. Which is dumb, because it wasn’t even yours in the first place. It was Vincent Rinaldi’s.
Roth’s weathered fingers skimmed over the gold embossing on the atlas’s cover, but his eyes were still on her.
“Thank you for bringing this to us,” he said, without even the barest hint of a smile—or any gratitude—in his face. “I hope your travels have been pleasant so far.” His eyes shifted to Jackson, then back to her. “As I can see you’ve had the chance to learn, this is shaping up to be a rather dangerous expedition. Perhaps you’d be more comfortable staying here in Split for the time being? I can make arrangements for you in a nice apartment building right by one of the beaches.”
But Jackson’s arm tightened around her. “I don’t think that’s a good idea.”
“Of course it’s a good idea,” Roth countered, as if lecturing a child. “This isn’t a game. It’s not safe for her here.” His gaze was back on her again. “We’ll make sure you get a share of the haul. You have my word on it.”
But Jackson was shaking his head, and she could feel the tension in the muscles of his arm around her.
“She stays with us,” Jackson said.
“We need to be able to move freely,” the other man said. “That means we can’t have anyone slowing us down. You’ve already seen how dangerous this is going to get.”
“All the more reason why we shouldn’t just leave her somewhere by herself,” Jackson said. And then, “You already agreed to this over the phone.”
“Because you said that in all likelihood she’d run home long before she ever set foot on this boat.”
That was like a kick right to the gut. But before Charlotte could ask either of them to elaborate, Jackson released her and stepped toward the other man.
“She’s involved in this now, whether we like it or not. Blame me if you like, but if Nash is onto us, you know what that means. She’s safer with us.”
Roth’s mouth went rigid. She’d heard the way Jackson and Leo had talked about this man—he was the leader of this little team, and it was clear they respected him deeply. She hadn’t realized she’d be in the middle of something.
But the decision, such as it was, appeared to have been made.
“We’re leaving in ten minutes,” Roth said, looking around at his team. And with that, he turned and climbed back down below, the atlas still clutched in his hand.
Charlotte st
ill felt a little like the wind had been swept out of her sails, even when Roth had completely disappeared below and Jackson turned back to her. She’d known she was stepping into Jackson’s territory, but she hadn’t really expected it to be so… well, awkward.
But if the others were feeling that awkwardness, they hid it well.
“Aren’t you going to introduce me?” said the one with the tattoos, twisting around Jackson to place himself right in front of her.
Jackson was already back to his normal self, and he rolled his eyes at his friend before looping his arm around her waist again, as if to protect her from the other man’s enthusiasm.
“This is Toshi,” he told her. “He’s an even bigger player than Leo.”
“Hey, hey, hey. Don’t be knocking me right out of the gate, man,” said Toshi. To her he added, “Jacky here has it out for me. But don’t worry—I don’t go after my brothers’ girls.”
Charlotte started to point out that she was most definitely not Jackson’s “girl,” but before she could get out the words, Jackson had already started introducing her to the other two men on the boat. The big one on the left with the short, chestnut hair was Alexei, and he greeted her with the hint of a Russian accent. The other one was lither and had wavy, sun-bleached hair, and Jackson introduced him as Xavier.
She didn’t have time to speak with any of the guys, though. They’d all jumped to action preparing the boat for departure.
“We should take your things downstairs,” Jackson told her.
She nodded, eager to do something besides stand here like an idiot. She followed Jackson through the opening and down the ladder-like steps to the area below deck.
She’d never been on a boat before, so she was pleasantly surprised to see how many conveniences were down here below the deck—even if quarters were a little cramped. Roth was nowhere to be seen—he must have shut himself behind one of the narrow doors on either side of the stairs—but there was a small kitchenette tucked away to the left, and next to it, a short table jutted from the wall beneath a panel of electronics.
