by Anna Hackett
Morgan scanned around the crowd for that tawny head of hair. She spotted him over by the bar. He was a head taller than most of the other people in the room. The bartender was handing him two full glasses. “Hurry it up.”
“Fifty-five grams. And the heat sensor will be disabled in three, two, one…”
Coop walked past Morgan, handing her a napkin topped with a few hors d’oeuvres. “Fifty-five grams,” he murmured quietly.
Okay, now for the switch. Morgan moved closer to the emerald, looking like she was studying the tiny carvings on the gem. Her heart was beating hard and fast, but she breathed steadily.
She held her left hand up over the emerald and lifted the hors d’oeuvres close with her other.
It was all a matter of timing. And Morgan had excellent timing.
With a quick slide, she skimmed the emerald off as she set the napkin in its place.
Adrenaline flooded her system, but she’d had years of practice controlling it. She took a step back, her fingers closing over the emerald. It felt cool in her hand.
No alarm sounded, and no one converged on her with shouts or screams. She quickly turned, wrapping the emerald in a small cloth she’d brought, and slipping the priceless gem down her neckline, nestling it in her cleavage.
She wandered over to the window, looking at the reflection of the party in the glass.
“Slick.” Dec’s amused voice.
Morgan hid a smile.
“There you are.” Mr. Handsome had returned. He handed her another champagne flute. “Now, I just have to know your name.”
Job done, Morgan decided she deserved a drink. She took a large gulp, the champagne fizzing on her tongue. Ugh, she’d much prefer a beer. “You first.”
“Dr. Zachariah James.”
Morgan choked on the champagne.
Dr. James moved closer, patting a hand to her back. His warm palm hit the bare skin between her shoulder blades. “Hey, take it easy. Did it go down the wrong way?”
She was instantly distracted by the feel of his hand. Skin to skin. Again, she felt that disconcerting tingle where they touched. “I’m fine, Dr. James.”
“Please, call me Zach.” Up close, she saw golden streaks through the green of his eyes. “Dr. James is so stuffy, and Zachariah is a mouthful.”
He straightened, his gaze moving over her shoulder. Then his flirtatious manner disappeared in a blink, his body stiffening. It happened so fast she couldn’t quite believe it, and his hard face became nearly unrecognizable.
She turned, following his gaze. He was staring at the pedestal…and the napkin of hors d’oeuvres resting on top of it.
Dr. James’ hands turned to fists at the sides of his rigid body. “Goddammit!”
Chapter Two
Zach James knew most people thought he was a pretty easygoing man, quick to smile and share a laugh.
But that was only because he showed people what he wanted them to see. He’d learned very young to keep his true feelings hidden, or they got used against you. So right now, he let very little of the anger and frustration storming through him show.
He saw the gorgeous woman watching him. She’d caught his eye instantly, with her long, shapely legs and intriguing face with an equally intriguing scar on one cheek. Her short, pixie-cut hair was as dark as ink, her skin bronze, and her eyes the most fascinating aqua blue, just like her tiny dress. He expected to see confusion on her face, but her gaze was impassive, watching him steadily.
Declan Ward sauntered up to them, his hands in the pockets of his trousers. “Evening.”
“We were watching you,” Zach bit out.
He’d wanted the new security system to work out. He’d helped design it. He hated that visitors to the museum had to view things through inches-thick glass. Zach believed people should be immersed in history and culture, be able to interact and marvel at it. Not that artifacts should be locked away.
But as an archeologist and historian, Zach’s first priority was always to safeguard the artifacts.
“I’m not here alone,” Declan said.
A waiter appeared just behind Declan. The man gave a single nod, his face grave.
“This is one of my team, Ronin Cooper.”
Now that Zach looked at Cooper, he wondered how the hell the guy had ever passed for a waiter. He had broad shoulders, a powerful body, and a look in his dark eyes that was more than a little frightening.
Zach shook his head. “Well, you guys are good.” He held his hand out. “I want the emerald back.” He’d hired Treasure Hunter Security, but every second the jewel was out of his sight left him twitchy.
Declan shrugged. “I don’t have it.” He nodded behind Zach. “She does.”
Zach turned and his gut tightened. No way. The insanely attractive woman he’d been drawn to had a faint smile on her face.
The wide-eyed wonder was gone. She winked, reached down the front of her tight dress, and pulled out the Mughal emerald.
“You were watching me, too,” she said. “But you only saw what you wanted to see.”
Right. He’d only seen legs up to her ears, and pouty red lips that had made him think dirty, dirty thoughts. He’d seen a sexy woman who shivered each time he’d touched her.
Now, he saw a dangerous glint in her eyes. There was a lot more to this woman than her good looks. But a part of Zach was angry that her reaction to him might have just been an act.
She handed over the emerald.
Zach took it, ensuring his fingers brushed against her palm. He watched her carefully.
She pulled her hand back quickly, something flashing in her eyes.
He smiled. At least something about her had been the truth. The emerald was warm, and he realized the warmth came from her skin. Hell, from her breasts.
Shit. The last thing he needed now was an erection. “Treasure Hunter Security came highly recommended, but I wanted to be sure.” He looked at Declan. “I wanted to see for myself.”
Declan raised a brow. “A test?”
“You can call it that,” Zach answered. He waved over one of the museum security guards. He passed off the emerald. “Get it back on the display, and set someone to watch it.”
“You need our help with museum security?” Declan asked.
“No.” He looked at the woman again. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for security, Ms…?”
“Then I was doing my job right. And it’s Morgan. Morgan Kincaid.”
Morgan. It was a strong name, unbending. And looking at her now, he thought it suited her. But off the job, did she bend for a man? Did she melt under someone’s strong hands? “Well, you intrigued me the first moment I saw you. Now I’m even more intrigued.”
Morgan raised a brow. “Well, you’d best get un-intrigued, Dr. James.”
Oh, no. He didn’t plan to do that.
She leaned in closer, lowering her voice. “And you should always remember to expect the unexpected.”
Declan cleared his throat, looking amused. “Dr. James, you aren’t the first guy to fall for Morgan’s charms. That’s why we always send her in for these kinds of jobs. Now, if you don’t want our help with security for your exhibit, what do you want?”
“I have a job for you,” Zach said.
Declan looked at the others, and then back at Zach. “I’m listening.”
Zach glanced around the crowded room. “Not here. Let’s go to my office.”
He led them past a guard and down a long corridor. They crossed the main level of the museum, a giant open room with the skeleton of a giant plesiosaur hanging from the ceiling, and then he turned down another corridor, where the staff offices were located.
His office was a little messy, but that was normal. He knew where everything was, and that was all that mattered. His favorite photo of himself and his expedition team—all in their dive gear and holding up artifacts from the wreck of the Verelst—was on the wall. He was holding the Mughal emerald in his
hand.
Zach sat in his battered office chair, while Declan took one of the guest chairs on the other side of the desk. Ronin Cooper leaned against the wall, and Morgan prowled over to his only window. There was only nighttime darkness outside.
God, those legs. It was impossible not to look at them. He saw the strength in them now. Sleek muscles he hadn’t noticed before. How he’d mistaken her for a regular woman on a night out, he didn’t know. They all watched him expectantly.
Down to business. “Several weeks ago, the museum was given a collection of letters and personal effects of people who were missionaries for the American Lutheran Church. The group worked in Madagascar, and had their headquarters in a former French settlement on the south of the island called Fort Dauphin, nowadays called Tolagnaro.” Zach sat back in his chair. “Some of the letters were written by local Malagasy people who’d worked closely with the missionaries, and their ancestors. One letter belonged to a former Malagasy servant, Jean, who had worked for the French Governor of Fort Dauphin in the late 1600s before the French abandoned the settlement.” He shot them a thin smile. “Or were forced out by the locals, depending which side you were on.”
“So, who is this Jean?” Declan asked.
“Well, we already knew that a Malagasy called Jean had told an interesting story to a rescued French sailor, who then went on to replay the story to the Governor of the French East India Company.”
“I take it the French East India Company was in competition with the British East India Company?” Morgan asked.
“You’d be right. Many of the European countries had trading companies and fleets, trying to snag their share of wealth from the East Indies. The Dutch were ahead of the game, with the largest share of the trade, followed by the English. The French East India Company was founded to compete and give the French a slice of the pie.”
“And did they get a slice?” Morgan asked.
“A little. But they never reached the levels the Dutch and British did. They did start negotiations with Siam.”
“Thailand,” Ronin said.
Zach nodded. “It was all thanks to a charismatic Greek adventurer by the name of Constantine Phaulkon helping to broker the deal between France and Siam. He was a fascinating man. A former clerk for the British East India Company, he arrived in Siam as a merchant. In a matter of a few years, he became fluent in Thai, worked in the royal court, and became the number one counselor to King Narai. There were plenty in the king’s court who resented the foreigner’s fast rise to power, and thought he wielded far too much control.” Zach blinked. “Sorry, I’m getting off track.” He saw Morgan smirking at him. “I just find Phaulkon so interesting. Anyway, King Narai, hoping to impress the French King—Louis XIV, also known as the Sun King—wanted to send some ambassadors to France, along with some gifts to sweeten the deal. A ship called the Soleil d’Orient set sail, and do you want to guess the next part of the story?”
“It never made it to France,” Morgan said.
“Correct. Considered lost at sea, or perhaps the Siamese ambassadors set it alight with their incessant smoking.”
“So what did this Jean see?” Declan asked.
“He saw the Soleil d’Orient limp into Fort Dauphin, leaking badly. The crew befriended the locals as their ship was repaired. When they headed back out, they were caught in a storm, and the ship sank just off the Madagascan coast, north-east of Tolagnaro.”
“And no one’s ever found it?” Ronin asked.
“No. A few people have tried, but they’ve never found the wreckage.”
Morgan moved closer. “But you have.”
Excitement trickled through Zach’s veins, the same way it did every time he was on the trail of an historic find. “Yes. Jean didn’t share everything with the French. In his papers, we found he’d marked the exact location of where the Soleil d’Orient went down. We’ve kept that information under wraps.”
Declan nodded. “No one wants word of an important shipwreck leaking to the wrong people.”
“No. The last thing I need is every would-be treasure hunter descending on Madagascar. Treasure Hunter Security is highly recommended, but I need a team with expert underwater recovery skills as well.”
Declan smiled. “Most of my team are former Navy SEALs, Dr. James. Except for Morgan. Although she may as well have been.”
Zach eyed Morgan, wondering what her background was.
“Navy,” she said, answering his unasked question. “And I passed the SEAL training.”
Zach’s eyes widened. He knew the failure rate was high for BUD/S training. He was impressed. As far as he knew, no woman had officially ever passed it before. He forced his gaze back to Declan. “Can you get a ship suitable for the recovery operation?”
Declan nodded. “Yes. But it’s top of the line, and it’ll cost you.”
Zach’s heart began to pound. This was it. He was going to find the Soleil d’Orient and her cargo. There was so much history awaiting in the hold of that ship, and possibly any number of secrets kept hidden for years by the waves. He looked at Morgan as she leaned a hip against his desk. He had to admit that having the oh-so-attractive Morgan Kincaid on this expedition would make it even more interesting.
Dr. Zachariah James and team, discoverers of the wreck of the Soleil d’Orient. It was a long way from the trailer park he’d grown up in.
He cleared his throat, reality crashing back in for a moment. “My funding won’t cover a top-of-the-line ship.”
Declan arched a brow. “We don’t do charity work, Dr. James.”
“I’ve already got signed salvage deals with the Madagascan government. I’m also willing to pay you a percentage of what we salvage.”
Declan crossed his arms over his chest. “It doesn’t do my company much good if we find a bunch of rusted cannonballs.”
Morgan leaned closer. “What exactly was on that ship, Dr. James?”
Zach vowed to himself that before this expedition was over, he’d get Morgan Kincaid to call him by his first name.
“Treasure, Morgan.” He looked at Declan. “A lot of it.”
Declan straightened. “Spell it out for me.”
“Valuable antiquities, including a golden dinner service the King of Siam had received from the Emperor of Japan, and priceless Chinese porcelain. In addition to that, gold, silver, coins, and chests of diamonds.”
Morgan just stared and Ronin gave a low whistle.
Declan’s face was impassive for a long moment. Then, he stood. “You’ve got yourself a security team.”
Chapter Three
The winter morning was fresh, and the sky was blue. Snow crunched under Morgan’s boots as she strode up the steps to the Treasure Hunter Security warehouse.
There was a spring in her step. She was eager for the hunt. Apart from last night’s job at the museum, she hadn’t been out in the field for the last few weeks, and she was starting to feel itchy.
She pushed through the glass doors and into the warehouse. Dec had bought the old flour mill and had converted it. He and Layne lived in the spacious upstairs apartment, and the huge, open space below was for the office.
Morgan honestly admitted she loved the space, with its polished concrete floors, exposed brick walls, and large windows offering a good view of the city. The far end housed Darcy’s domain. The youngest Ward sibling was something of a computer geek, although she hardly looked like one, and the opposite brick wall was covered in computer screens. Off to one side sat their long conference table, and on the other side, worn couches faced some games tables that they played during their downtime—pool, air hockey, and their latest addition, a foosball table. Morgan played a mean game of table soccer.
Two men were currently locked in a vicious air-hockey battle. Ronin raised a hand, while his opponent shot Morgan a quick smile. Hale Carter was another former SEAL. He was their resident fix-it man in the field. Hale hadn’t met an engine or gadget—or woman—he coul
dn’t fix or finesse. With glossy dark skin, a handsome face, and a gorgeous smile, he loved the ladies, and they loved him.
As Morgan headed for the small kitchenette tucked in the back, she heard the click of heels on the floor. She slipped off her leather jacket, slung it over the back of one of the couches, and turned. “Morning.”
“Good morning. This new job sounds amazing,” Darcy Ward said.
That was Darcy. Straight to the point. Of medium height with a slim build, Darcy always looked like she’d just stepped out of the pages of some fancy fashion magazine. Today, she was wearing dark jeans tucked into knee-high boots, and an emerald-green shirt that contrasted nicely with the dark bob of her hair. She had wide, blue-gray eyes, which were a combination of Dec’s gray and Callum’s blue.
“It does sound good,” Morgan said. “But we have to find it, first. Shipwrecks are notorious for hiding their secrets.” Morgan strode over to the small kitchenette, grabbed a mug, and poured herself some coffee from the pot.
“But you have the location of where the ship sank.”
Morgan turned, leaning back against the countertop. “Sure. But the final resting place of wrecks are often found miles from where they actually sank. It depends on the currents, the sea floor, other conditions—”
Darcy waved a hand. “Well, Zachariah is very good at what he does.”
Morgan stilled and stared at her coffee. “You know him?”
Darcy nodded. “I’ve met him once or twice.” Darcy got a far-off look in her eye, smiling. “He has that whole adventurer-vibe going on. Did you see his smile?”
Morgan sighed. “I sure did. And his dimples.”
“Dimples…” Darcy shook her head, like she was clearing it. “He lectures at the University of Denver with Dad. Students fight to get to study with him.” Darcy waggled her perfectly shaped brows. “Especially the female students.”
Why wasn’t Morgan surprised? She sipped her coffee, and noticed a body sprawled on one of the couches. She strode over, sat down, and bumped the sleeping man’s hip with her own. “Sleeping on the job, O’Connor?”
The big former SEAL grunted, lifted his boots onto the coffee table, and folded his muscled arms across his chest. “Had a late night.”
