“It was a journal belonging to a man named Frederick Bazal. He was a member of the Knights of the Dragon. A scholar. The writing is a combination of many languages. He changes them frequently in the writing. If something happens to us, it’s in Ezra’s safe.”
“I can get to it,” he assured her.
“It’s dangerous. I started to read a few words and could sense the power.” She hurried on, not knowing if he’d believe her or think she was crazy. “You’ll need a scholar, maybe two—people who can decipher the languages. But you have to be careful. It’s dangerous to people like Ezra.” She didn’t want to come right out and say what he was. The phone lines were never secure.
“I can read whatever languages are written in the journal.”
“You can?” Of course he could. If he was like Ezra, he probably spoke many ancient languages. Maybe it was a stretch, but she believed she was talking with another drakon.
“I can. And to answer your earlier question, Ezra can stay underwater as long as he needs to.”
“I should go. It’s not safe for me to be talking out here.” Although the sound of the wind and waves, coupled with the distance she’d drifted made it safer than it would have been only fifteen minutes ago. The current was really starting to carry her.
“Any sign of Ezra?”
She peered out over the inky surface. It was difficult to see anything past the hand in front of her face. Only the stars and the moon gave her any light. She couldn’t risk a flashlight. She did check the luminous face of the watch, careful to make sure it was facing away from the Easton. Not that anyone could see it from this distance, but better to be safe than sorry.
“Nothing.”
“Listen to me. If he’s in the water, he’ll be okay.” Sam wasn’t sure who he was trying to convince, her or himself. “Call me back in an hour if he hasn’t returned.”
“I will.” It was a promise she could keep. “If I don’t, it’s because something has happened.” She didn’t want to think about what could happen. The ocean was a vast and dangerous place. She hung up, wanting to conserve power even though the phone had been fully charged when they’d left. She made sure it was on vibrate before she tucked it back into her pocket and zipped it shut. The last thing she needed was for it to ring.
She tugged the blankets over the bottom half of her face to block the wind, stared out over the waves, and waited.
…
Aaron Dexter walked on the deck with a bottle of whiskey in hand. He’d planned on staying in his room, but the space was tiny, barely enough room for a bunk.
The air was frigid, and he knew it was late, but he wasn’t going to be able to sleep, not without something to help him along the way. Which was where the bottle of whiskey came in.
He knew his days were numbered if he didn’t complete his mission. They might be numbered even if he did. The Knights were not known for leniency when it came to mistakes.
And losing a multi-million-dollar research vessel and letting Sam Bellamy escape with a priceless artifact were huge mistakes. It was all Sam’s fault. If she hadn’t taken the damn thing and tried to run with it, they wouldn’t have been focused on her. Maybe the whale, or whatever the hell hit them, would have been spotted on radar and they could’ve avoided it.
Or maybe he was grasping at straws.
All he knew was that he needed whatever else was down there. It was his only hope. He needed something to take to another member of the Knights to try to get some leverage. He needed someone who hated Karina Azarov. That shouldn’t be difficult to find. The Knights were all power hungry, and they all wanted to be leader.
And if there was nothing left in the wreckage? That was why he wasn’t sleeping. He leaned against the railing of the Easton and looked out over the water. He had divers of his own on the way, men loyal to him to join the crew of the Easton. He wasn’t risking any new artifacts slipping through his fingers.
Something splashed in the distance. He narrowed his gaze and peered out over the water. He reached into his pocket and drew out a small pair of binoculars. “Shit.” He scanned the water, but it was too damn dark to see much of anything. Who would be out there?
He panned back and forth and squinted. Was that the edge of a boat? Then it was gone. Probably a figment of his imagination caused by the cresting of the waves. He jammed the binoculars back into his pocket, cracked open the whiskey bottle, and took a swallow. It was mellow and warmed his stomach.
He continued to stare out over the water, not able to shake the sensation someone had been out there watching. Had Karina sent another team to keep an eye on him? Well, fuck them. If he found anything in the wreck below, he was keeping it.
And then there was Sam Bellamy. It was logical to assume she was dead, the dinghy swamped and sunk or drifting out at sea. He’d shot her. Problem was, he didn’t have any idea how badly he’d hurt her.
She could still be out there. In fact, his gut was telling him she was.
Just then, something jumped in front of him and disappeared back into the water. A fish of some kind. Damned if he knew what it was. He hated the water. Much preferred to be on dry land.
If he found his way free and clear from this situation, he was never setting foot back on the ocean again.
He tilted the bottle back and took another swig. Tomorrow, he was starting his search for her. He’d rent a boat and cruise up and down the shoreline. There had to be a sign of her somewhere. She couldn’t have gone far.
He kept drinking and watching the ocean.
He couldn’t wait to get back on dry land.
Chapter Fifteen
Ezra turned his back on the Easton. The urge to lunge up, grab Dexter, and drag him down to the depths was almost overwhelming. He’d shot Sam. In Ezra’s mind, he deserved to pay for his crime. And only death would stop a man like him. He was a Knight to his core.
The only thing that could override the urge to extract his own brand of justice was that the Knights would double their efforts if one of their men disappeared from the deck of the Easton. That would possibly put his crew in jeopardy. Even more importantly, Sam was out there on her own, and he’d been gone much longer than he’d anticipated.
But it had been worth it. After a lot of searching, he’d finally unearthed a small metal box. Whatever was inside was potent. Even he could sense the muted power humming inside. He hoped this was the last of the Knights’ treasures from this wreckage. Likely was. They wouldn’t have risked sending too many priceless artifacts on the same sailing ship all those years ago. The danger of shipwreck had been a very real concern, as was evidenced by the Reliant. They hadn’t had radar, forecasts, and the coast guard to depend on. It wasn’t like today, where you could fly precious cargo around the world in a matter of hours instead of weeks or months aboard a ship.
He turned his back on the Easton, knowing he’d have to go out there later today and meet with his client and crew. Sam would be staying home on that trip. No way could he risk Dexter seeing her. And there was no way of knowing how many men or women the Knights had on shore.
Each passing hour meant the danger to Sam grew exponentially.
With the box secured in his claws, he swam toward the dinghy. It had drifted quite a bit farther than he’d expected. It had taken him much longer to uncover the hidden treasure, but he hadn’t given up. Finding treasure was what he did. It was in his blood, part of his soul. That Sam shared such a passion was a huge bonus.
She was awake, even though her eyes drooped. She was shivering, too. Her body wasn’t meant to handle these colder temperatures for this long.
She startled, then gave a small cry and flung herself at him, wrapping her arms as far around his snout as they would go. “I was so worried,” she whispered the words, and he could hear the fatigue in her voice. She was slightly hoarse, too. Not good.
He waited until she released him and then tossed the metal box into the boat. “Don’t touch it until we’re home.” He had no idea what it was, bu
t he respected the power it possessed.
Sam nodded. “I won’t.” She picked up one of the wooden paddles and shoved the box against the side of the boat. Then she left the paddle against it, using it to keep the box in place.
She stared at it and shuddered. “It’s powerful.” He could tell she was worried. “Maybe even more than the book.”
And wasn’t that just a happy thought. “Don’t touch it,” he repeated. With that, he grabbed the towline in his mouth and set out for home. The quicker he got Sam there, the better he’d feel.
…
Sam heaved a tired sigh when Ezra’s island came into view. He had to be exhausted. She was, and all she’d done was sit in the boat. Hours of tension had taken their toll. She yawned and forced her eyes to stay open. No way could she let herself fall asleep with that box sharing the dingy with her.
She still had the wooden paddle jammed against it, keeping it up against the side of the boat. The metal box was small. What could be inside that would give off such a hum of power? Sam wasn’t sure she wanted to know.
She’d have to tell Ezra she’d called his friend, as he’d be sure to mention it when they were in contact again. She knew he wouldn’t be pleased, but he’d have to get over it.
As if seeing his home had given Ezra a boost of energy, he sped up. The dingy bounced across the waves. She slid sideways and gave a small yelp. He slowed almost immediately and was there, poking his big dragon head over the side.
“You okay?” It was still odd to hear Ezra’s voice coming from the large creature, albeit a much deeper version.
“Yeah. I just wasn’t expecting the burst of speed.”
If a dragon could look sheepish, he did. “Sorry about that.”
She shook her head. “No, that’s okay. I get it. I want to get home, too.” Both of them froze when she realized what she’d said. She’d called Ezra’s house her home. “We should keep going.” Her fingers were numb because she couldn’t put them in her pocket to keep them warm and hold the paddle securely at the same time.
Ezra ducked beneath the waves, and the boat began to move once again, only this time at a much slower pace. Even so, the dock came up swiftly on the right.
There was a flash of light beneath the waves, and then Ezra jumped onto the dock and secured the rope. Water dripped down his chest. He raked his fingers through his hair, sending rivulets of water down his shoulders and back.
There was something so solid, so enduring about him. He was also completely naked. She might be cold and wet and miserable, but she was also human. There wasn’t a woman alive who wouldn’t be moved by the sight of him.
“Sam?” He held out his hand. She tried to release the paddle, really she did, but she’d been holding it for so long her fingers had cramped.
She licked her lips, tasting the salty sea. “I’m not sure I can.”
Ezra swore and jumped into the boat. It dipped to one side, coming perilously close to capsizing, but he immediately adjusted his position and it settled. He crouched beside her. “What’s wrong?”
“Ah, my hands are cold.”
“You should have told me sooner.” He wrapped his big hands around hers. In spite of being in the water for hours, he was still warm.
“What could you have done?” She hadn’t told him because there’d been no point. It’s not like he’d had a pair of gloves in his back pocket or anything, because he’d been totally naked and, more importantly, a dragon.
“This.” He leaned close and took a deep breath. When he released it, the warm air flowed over her skin. He did it again. This time his breath was even warmer, almost hot. It felt wonderful against her chilled flesh.
“Oh, that’s so good.”
“Try moving your fingers,” he instructed. She did, and he blew once again. This time, the breath he released was much larger. It circulated around her entire body. She shuddered and began to shiver. It was only when warmth hit her that she understood just how cold she was.
“You should have kept your hands under the blanket.”
She shrugged. “It kept sliding off. I couldn’t hold the blanket in place and keep the paddle steady on that box you found.” Not at the speed they’d been clipping over the water, but she didn’t tell him that. He’d only feel bad.
Ezra pried the paddle from her thawing fingers and tossed it aside. His big hands enveloped hers until she could move them normally once again. “Let’s get you inside.” He helped her stand. She was grateful for the assistance. After so many hours of sitting, she was a little shaky.
He lifted her and deposited her on the dock. Then he looked at the metal box. It was next to the edge of the boat, looking completely innocuous. They both knew that to be a lie.
Ezra retrieved the blanket and tossed it over the box, putting a layer between him and the artifact.
“Maybe you should drag it out to sea and dump it.” Might be safer for both of them.
“I need to see what’s inside first. Once we know what we’re dealing with, I might just do that. The book, too.”
As much as it hurt her archaeologist soul to destroy precious artifacts, she was more than ready to take the boat out herself and dump both if need be. Some things were never meant to be found.
He climbed back onto the dock and took her hand. “Come on.”
“What about the rifle?” It felt wrong to just leave it there.
“I’ll get it later.”
They hadn’t left any lights on in the house. Of course, Ezra didn’t need them, but she was all but blind except for the moon and stars. She stayed close. The last thing she needed was to take a tumble.
She was stiff, like some old lady, shuffling along.
As soon as they were inside, Ezra dumped the blanket on the floor just inside the door and kept going toward the stairs. He turned on the light at the bottom. Sam blinked and held her free hand in front of her eyes. It seemed overly bright after being in the dark for so long.
“What are you doing?” Securing the artifact was the most important thing.
“Getting you into the shower.” Her teeth were chattering by the time she reached the top. “Letting you come with me was a mistake.”
She yanked her hand from his as soon as they entered the bedroom, walked over to the bedside lamp, and turned it on. “It’s not like you had a choice.”
He snorted. “I could have just left you here. Not like you were going anywhere without a boat.” He was right. She didn’t like it, but he was right.
She tried not to stare at his muscled back and tight butt bisected by his amazing tattoo as he went into the attached bath. But it did help drive away some of the chill. She rubbed her hand over her face. The cold had obviously hampered her brain cells if she was justifying leering at him.
Her entire life had entered the twilight zone. Or maybe she was Alice falling down the rabbit hole. She was involved with a drakon, and they were being hunted by a secret society, or at least she was. They didn’t know about Ezra.
She looked longingly at the bed but didn’t dare sit. If she did, she might never get back up. And she desperately needed to use the bathroom and get a shower.
Water began to run in the shower. As if some force was pulling her, she moved toward the open door and peered in. Ezra was setting out fresh towels on the vanity.
“Get your damp clothes off.”
He was right. They were damp. The boat had protected her somewhat, but it hadn’t held back the spray from the water as he’d tugged her along or the occasional larger wave while she’d been drifting.
She blinked several times and toed her wet sneakers off. Ezra grew impatient and came to help her. He tugged off her coat, the sweater and shirt beneath, leaving her in her bra.
“I can do it.” She wasn’t some damsel in distress who needed rescuing. Except that’s exactly how they’d met. He’d rescued her from death at the hands of Aaron.
He dropped his hands back to his sides instead of reaching for her bra. She wasn’t sure
if that was a good thing or a bad thing. “I’m going to get the rifle and hide the dinghy. I’ll be back.”
“Don’t touch the box.” She wanted to be there when they opened it, just in case.
He briefly touched the side of her face. “I won’t.”
She nodded and went up on her toes and kissed him. Ezra groaned and dragged her against him. The kiss was hot and deep and much shorter than she wanted.
“Boat,” he reminded her. “And shower.” He urged her toward the stall and left her alone.
Chapter Sixteen
Ezra placed both hands against the tile and leaned forward, letting the shower spray fall over him. The boat was anchored back in the cove, and the rifle was stowed in its proper place. The shower was to rinse the salt water from his skin and also to try to cool his ardor. His dick was so hard he was hurting. He’d wanted to go to Sam, sweep her into his arms, and carry her up to his bed.
But she was exhausted. Being in the small, open boat for hours, worrying about him, had taken its toll. She needed care, not him climbing on top of her so he could slake his lust. He shook his head and grabbed his shampoo. Sam had used his shampoo. Her hair and her skin would smell like him. It was ridiculous just how much that pleased him.
He wanted to be the one who provided everything she needed. Not exactly politically correct, but he’d never claimed to be that enlightened.
He rinsed and stood there another minute, letting the water beat down on him. Salt water or fresh, it never failed to revive him.
Only his hunger to be near Sam and his physical hunger for food hurried him along. She was already in the kitchen putting together a meal, and he didn’t want to be away from her any longer.
He dried off and pulled on a pair of jeans, doing his best to ignore his hard-on. He knew damn well a man couldn’t die from arousal. It only felt like it.
He could hear her humming when he silently padded down the stairs. After a quick glance toward the front door to make sure the blanket and the treasure it contained was still there, he went to the kitchen. Sam was standing in front of the stove stirring something in a pot. He inhaled deeply and the fragrance of tomatoes, basil, oregano, onion, and other spices hit his nose.
Drakon's Plunder (Blood of the Drakon) Page 15
