by L. A. Fiore
“All those kids Drake pimped out, kids like us, fucker had it coming.”
“I agree, but it got me thinking. We’ve left a few enemies behind that might one day pay us a visit.”
I had been thinking that too. With the lives we led, it wasn’t wise to leave your foes breathing.
“We might need to take a stroll down memory lane.”
I agreed with Snake, but not tonight.
“Tonight I want a drink and a bed that doesn’t rock. Tomorrow we’ll get Tex and Tiggs on it.”
“Fair enough. I want a cold beer and pussy in no particular order.” He looked over at me. “Maybe we’ll see a redhead.”
I found jacking off to the memory of Willow more satisfying than sex with other women, but when I did give in to the demands of my body she had to have red hair. And I always fucked her from behind, because I didn’t need to see her face. I had a face.
“You still think about her.”
“You would think I would be over it. It was a day two years ago, but she’s still there. Just on the periphery, haunting me.”
“I get why she’s haunting you. We grew up with nothing, have seen and done things, but for just a little while you found that elusive heaven people always talk about. If you can find a path back there maybe you should take it. Or let her go, but pick one. Now let’s get that beer.”
Sometimes Snake surprised me with how insightful he could be. Still this was Snake. “Dr. Phil is definitely rubbing off.”
“Fuck you.” He said that with a smile.
I stepped out onto the deck. I didn’t sense the danger until it was too late. I had just enough time to push Snake back down the stairs as the boat was sprayed with bullets. I felt several rip through my flesh as I dropped to my knees. A man stepped into the light on the pier, a gun in his hand, a long scar down his face. He grinned then faded into the darkness. My blood turned the white deck red, the grim reaper breathing down my neck. Hell was waiting. I thought of her. Snake was right. For just a little while I had experienced heaven. I died with a smile on my face.
WILLOW
Present Day
Decker and I dove to a depth of sixty feet. Bubbles from his breathing apparatus danced happily to the surface. I didn’t just get my dream job; I really got to call paradise home. I had bought a dilapidated cottage that had taken me years to fix up, but it was right on the beach. My view was the turquoise ocean and white sand for as far as the eyes could see. The sounds of the waves crashing on the beach felt a bit like home.
My position was part-time, so when I wasn’t on a salvage I worked at one of the local resorts. I took little kids snorkeling or their parents diving at some of the man-made dive sites. It never got old seeing the expressions on the children’s and parents’ faces when they saw what beauty lived under the sea.
Yellow tail fish darted past, the brilliance of their tails bright against the murky water. In the distance, I saw the distinct movement of a shark, likely a Caribbean reef shark. They were very common in these waters; the almost lazy way he moved that glided him through the water.
The deeper we dove, the more haunting our surroundings turned, like even life under the sea kept a wide berth in respect of the souls lost. I had seen the sight more times than I could count and yet it brought tears to my eyes every time the ship appeared. The Magdalene was a British merchant ship that had sunk in 1783. It took years to locate her exact position in the Atlantic and after weeks of searching with metal detectors, it was sea snails that ultimately gave up the Magdalene’s location. Sea snails’ diets consisted largely of barnacles and barnacles were attracted to eroding conditions—like old, wooden hulls.
After weeks of excavating, we finally got our first look at what remained. The captain’s wheel was covered in barnacles; a ship that had sunk over two centuries earlier and yet the captain’s wheel was still intact. If I closed my eyes, I could see the captain with his long wig and Cavalier hat standing proudly behind the wheel navigating the seas. The masts had long ago eroded, the ropes disintegrated and the embellishments that uniquely identified the vessel had faded from the sand and water. The Magdalene had taken cannon fire to the port side and had sunk, falling bow first. When it settled on the ocean floor, it tilted to its starboard side. Had it been pirates? Had the crew fought valiantly?
So far we had found some coins, some candlesticks and bottles, but the elusive Les Deux Cadeaux remained hidden. It was believed to be a gift to King George III from the American colonists as a thank you for his support. What exactly the treasure was no one knew, only that they were a set and were made of gold and gemstones. The timeline fit since the Magdalene sunk in the same year that the American Revolutionary War ended with the signing of the Treaty of Paris. It was rumored that the pieces were stolen after the French declared war on Britain in 1793, which would explain why the pieces had a French name, clearly renamed once in French possession. But if the Magdalene never left the New World and the pieces really were still with her, why the story that it had?
Decker signaled for us to ascend. As soon as we broke the surface, I pulled out my regulator. “It never gets old.”
He flashed me a smile. “It never does.” He looked up at the gray clouds rolling in. “Looks like we’re in for some nasty weather.”
His tongue moved slowly up the inside of my leg, his hands slipping under my nightgown, over my hips and around to my ass. His hot breath teased the sensitive place between my legs. My breath burned in my lungs as I moved my hips encouraging him to move higher. To taste me in the place that was aching for him.
My fingers curled in his hair as I moaned deep in my throat. His nose brushed over my clit causing a spasm that made my toes curl. He pressed his tongue flat and moved it slowly up. My back arched, my thighs tightened around his face and then my alarm clock went off. Rolling over, I slammed down on the top of it with more force than was needed, but talk about terrible timing. I sat up and pulled my hands through my hair. Kace. The dreams started right after I moved. I couldn’t explain it, but somehow I knew he was dead. The ache in my chest, even now, was excruciating. In my heart, he was alive, hunting the seas…the beautiful, sexy, arrogant and dangerous man who had, in the course of one day and one night, irrevocably changed me. Over the years, my affection for him had turned to love. I loved him. I remembered him. I mourned him. I never took his necklace off, and the journal, I was very close to finding Isabella and the treasure she concealed. When I find her, I plan on dedicating the find to him. For now, I threw my legs over the side of my bed and dragged myself to the shower. Today, I hunted for a different treasure.
“Granddad, you should see it. It’s the most incredible sight. Considering how long ago she sank, she’s in remarkably good condition. I sent you some pictures. Your assistant can help you retrieve them.”
“Underwater photography. I am getting old.”
“Oh stop.”
“I can hear it in your voice. You’re happy. It’s all you were hoping and more, isn’t it?”
“Yes. Every time I go down, the lives and stories of those lost at sea consume me. It’s tragic and yet so beautiful. And to have a chance to tell at least some of those stories, to give a voice to those who lost theirs so suddenly. I now understand more why Mom and Dad do what they do. It’s thrilling.”
“And I love you bringing me into it. It’s like I’m living it with you.”
“How are you? You sound tired?”
“It’s nothing, just a situation with Harry.”
“Harry?”
“Got himself into trouble again. I love the man like a brother, but he is a lot of work.”
“Can I help in any way?”
“No, but thank you. I’m used to bailing him out. Send pictures when you find the treasure.”
“You know I will.”
There had been a storm the other night and the sand had shifted, another section of the ship had been uncovered. I was working at the stern, had been for months. This was where the captai
n’s quarters would have been located. The theory was the treasure would have been stored with the captain. It was painstaking work, but I had been through most of what remained of the captain’s quarters. If the treasure was here, it wouldn’t be long now before we uncovered it.
The large hoses had been pulled up once we uncovered the ship. Metal detectors were being used and when we got a hit, the digging was done by hand. Diver bags were filled as the crew uncovered the treasures the Magdalene was hiding.
Most of the furniture in the captain’s quarters had disintegrated over the years, but the structure of the ship was intact. Excitement bubbled up in me when I uncovered a compartment that, based on where it was located, would have looked like just part of the wall. I signaled for the rest of the crew, the discovery was one they would want to be included in.
We were careful to remove the panel causing the least amount of damage to the ship. I shone a light into the compartment and after the first pass my disappointment was palpable. Decker signaled for me to focus again in the back corner. It was filled with sand, but he saw something I didn’t. He and two other divers started sifting through the sand. I knew he’d found them by his body language. He signaled me over. As I approached, it was hard to put into words my reaction when I saw the two large objects coated in mineral cement...the butterflies flipping out in my stomach, the pounding of my heart, the tingling of my scalp, the anticipation. Our eyes connected, both of us were crying…happy tears, but the emotion was so profound it couldn’t be contained.
It took three of us on each object to pull them from their resting place. The balloons, used on heavier pieces, were attached to each object and we watched as they effortlessly floated to the surface. We followed behind to see the receiving team shouting in excitement. As they pulled the artifacts from the water using the small crane attached to the stern of the ship—the familiar whirly sound of the engine kicking to life—we climbed on the ship and ditched our equipment before joining the others on the deck. Seawater sheeted off the objects as they were lifted, feeling the heat of the sun for the first time in over two hundred years.
The whole crew circled the deck where the objects were slowly lowered. With the amount of mineral cement, it would take the team a while to clean them, but based on the size of them we had found Les Deux Cadeaux.
Decker came up next to me and draped his arm over my shoulders. “We fucking found them.”
“I can’t even put into words how I’m feeling right now.”
“You and me both.” He then shouted, “We celebrate tonight!”
The crew agreed by the resounding cheers that followed.
The sun peaked over the horizon and washed the sky with wisps of orange, yellow and purple, like brush strokes over a canvas. The sand under my feet, and the familiar and soothing sounds of the turquoise waves crashing against the beach kept me company during my morning run.
It had been three weeks since we brought up Les Deux Cadeaux and I was still riding the high. It was hands down, the greatest find any of us had discovered. Gem-encrusted crosses, two of them, they were exquisite. I hadn’t thought of the happy side effect of working in the industry my parents did, but there was one. The more involved I became, the more I understood them and their love of the hunt. It didn’t make the neglect of my childhood okay, but I understood better why. And actually finding a treasure...there weren’t words. Arrangements were being made for them to go to the Smithsonian. I would have to make a trip to Washington DC—because talk about exciting—to see something I helped bring up from the sea displayed in a museum.
My run led me into the center of tourist activity on the island, though it was early so no one was out and about yet. There was a bakery that made the best coffee and fritters. I got one every morning. Perhaps counterproductive, eating the calories I just burned, but they were that good. I slowed to a walk to cool down when my cell rang. Zoe Doyle. We met at the resort. Our friendship was instant. She was a free spirit. Her mom had been a B-list movie star who had retired to the island but she hadn’t been able to kick her drug habit, one that eventually took her life. And in true Zoe fashion, she turned the tragedy into something positive. The reminder that life was short had Zoe living each day to the fullest. She also had a flair for the dramatic, likely a trait she picked up from her mom. She was constantly changing her look, one week she would be old Hollywood glamour and the next she would be Goth. She was outgoing, funny and my best friend. She was also slightly nuts.
“I have a date tonight. He’s probably like five foot with three eyes. Or he has a lisp. I bet he has a lisp.” So like Zoe to skip the greetings and go right to the reason for her call.
“I doubt he has a lisp.”
“Maybe he’s dreamy? What if he’s like finding the end of the rainbow dreamy? Unicorn dreamy? A unicorn riding a rainbow dreamy? Shit, I don’t have an outfit fit for meeting a man like that.”
Zoe loved to shop. She didn’t need a reason to shop but when she had one, look out. She didn’t need me for this conversation and still I asked, “Have you been drinking?”
“Ha!”
“A unicorn riding a rainbow is dreamy? Maybe when you’re five.”
“You know what I’m saying. I want him to be ridiculously hot, but he probably looks like Frodo.”
“Is this someone from the online site you wanted me to join?”
“Yes.”
“And there is a concern the men that use the site look like Frodo?”
“You never know.”
“I think you really need to stop coloring your hair. It’s beginning to affect your brain.”
“Funny. Oh, I have to go. Towel fetish is making his way over here. He insists on four towels every morning. What the hell do you do with four fucking towels? Seriously, is he making a rope so he can sneak out through the window to avoid paying his hefty bill? I’ll call you later and tell you all about Frodo.”
“I’ll be waiting by the phone.”
“Smart-ass.”
I disconnected as I pulled the door open to the bakery. The owner, Dwayne, wasn’t a fan of the cell phone. He thought people should talk to each other and not to their phones. I didn’t disagree. As soon as I entered, I heard his deep booming voice.
“Willow. Morning.”
“Hey. It smells good in here.”
“I’m experimenting.”
“I’ll be your guinea pig.”
“I’m going to take you up on that. You want your usual?”
“Please.” I checked my watch. I had somewhere I needed to be.
“Here you are. Tomorrow I’ll have some new items for you to try out.”
“Twist my arm.”
I paid for my breakfast, grabbed one of the papers and headed outside. When I first moved here six years ago I was overwhelmed with the place. So much to do and see, but even in the midst of so much decadence, there was poverty. Much like that little girl in Cancun. One man in particular caught my attention because even though he was homeless, he always had a smile. He earned money by drawing the tourists, not that he had a lot of success with that. He had drawn my picture and while he did we chatted. He had been an investment banker on Wall Street. A workaholic who was married to his job. While here on a forced vacation from his company, he had had a total breakdown. Even years later, he continued to live on the streets because of the simplicity. But what touched me was I recognized loneliness. I knew what it felt like to be lonely. I didn’t wish that on anyone. So ever since that first meeting when he drew my picture, we had breakfast together. Coffee, a fritter and the morning paper.
“Morning, Warren.”
“Did you see that sky? It’s going to be a beauty of a day.”
I settled on the bench next to him, crossed my legs and handed him his coffee and fritter. “You want sports?”
“Yes.”
I only read the entertainment section in the paper. The rest was too depressing. And for the next hour, we enjoyed the quiet of the morning and each other�
��s company.
I helped Decker load up the equipment in the smaller of the two boats he had. They were off on a dive, one that didn’t require me. I actually preferred being part-time because I hadn’t regained my land legs back from our last dive and they were off again.
“What is it this time?” I asked.
“Gold.”
“Gold? Like coins?”
“Bars.”
“What kind of wreck has gold bars?”
“One we’re going to salvage,” he said with a grin. “Seriously, Harry’s been looking for this particular ship for a long time. He got some news recently and he asked if we could check it out.” He studied me for a minute. “Do you want in?”
Yes was on the tip of my tongue, but nine times out of ten nothing came of the dives and I was still recovering from the last one. “I’ll hold down the fort. Harry still has his feet in the water, doesn’t he?”
“I can’t imagine you ever entirely let it go.” I suppose Decker was right about that. I didn’t see my parents ever retiring and if they ever did, they would still have their fingers on the pulse.
“How did you meet Harry anyway?”
“He heard about a computer algorithm I created and had an application for it.”
“Oh, is that all? You make it sound so simple. I suck at technology. I can barely use my cell phone.”
“For me it kind of is simple. I’ve always been good with computers, popping on them at the local libraries when I could.”
“And it landed you a job.”
“Exactly.”
“I’m happy Harry found you.”
He flashed me a smile.
“Happy hunting,” I said with a smile.
