by Cherry Adair
“See anything?” Lenka asked eagerly. “Should we come down?”
“Sure. It’s the center mast, and what looks like a rockslide. She went skidding down here, all right.” A glint on the far side of the mast caught Ry’s attention. Probably a fish, but worth checking out. He headed in that direction.
A few minutes later the other three were right there. “Better than a knock on the head, right?” Lenka nodded at the mast.
“A big old box, or fifty, of silver, would be better,” MoMo pointed out, running his hand down the aged wood.
“It’s down there; we just have to get the ROV and go get it. Anything worth having is worth working for, right, boss?” Kevin gave him an encouraging look from behind her mask.
It would be so fucking excellent if he didn’t have to work quite so damn hard. On the other hand, Ry didn’t know anything else. A sedentary life on a deserted island sipping umbrella drinks wasn’t his style. He smiled back at Kev, then pushed aside a little oasis of sand between two pieces of yellow coral. The Maldives had the most complex coral systems in the world, and they were all on Technicolor display here along on the coral ridge. A glint had caught his eye, but now that he was closer he didn’t see anything unusual.
Hang on. What was that?
Brushing a finger through the pale sand to retrieve what he’d merely glimpsed. Heavy. Smooth. He held the silver bar up as grains of sand floated from his hand. “A silver ingot.”
It was a start. Ry glanced at his regulator. Past time to go. He indicated with a hand signal that they return to the surface.
* * *
After Naveen left, Addison took her iPad and a basket of snacks to share with the others down to the dive platform. Before checking the social blogs and society pages of her favorite publications, she said hi to Sam and Georgeo. “Patrick just made your favorite oatmeal-raisin cookies, Georgeo.” She set the flat-bottomed basket on a small table beside a couple of chairs in the shade. “Help yourselves.” She pulled out an apple and held up a small paring knife. “Anyone want an orange or some apple?”
She cut up the apple and arranged it on a paper plate with a few slices of sharp cheddar and some chilled grapes. Patrick had made sandwiches, too. But those could wait until the divers surfaced. She wanted to be right there when Rydell returned to the ship, face wreathed in smiles.
The Coast Guard helicopter should’ve reached Malé by now. Had Interpol taken Naveen into custody yet? Wasn’t he going to be surprised?!
She looked down at the clear cobalt ocean lapping against the hull. It was so peaceful, calm. Did the ocean hold the answers for Rydell to achieve his goal? God, she hoped the wreck held everything he hoped for. Everything.
He didn’t just salvage because it handsomely paid the bills. Treasure salvage was his life. His passion. And Rydell did passion very well. It defined who he was. He’d been crushingly poor, seen his mother burdened by poverty, and vowed he’d never be that financially strapped ever again. He’d pulled himself—and his family—out of that financial yoke, and made good on his promises. The fact that his father had put them in that position when Rydell was a boy—and now even after his death had done it again—wasn’t lost on Addison. She sent up a little prayer that the salvage was quick and easy.
He couldn’t lose Case Enterprises. It would decimate him. Could it decimate them, too?
“You should give scuba another try, Addy.” Sam leaned back in his hands. “Look how clear the water is. You’d love it down there.”
“I can see it just fine from here, thanks.” She smiled at Sam, realizing she wasn’t going to get much reading done while the two men waited their turn to go down. “Oscar said he’s coming down for a swim in a bit. Can you take him down?”
“Sure.” Georgeo launched into a story about a dive he’d recently been on near Crete. “… went floating away, leaving him scala a pioli—”
Smiling at Georgeo’s amusing recounting of a past dive and a naked diver, she glanced at the water, checking to see where her diver was. No sign of Ry and the others. Hopefully they’d return elated.
The throbbing sound of the approaching helicopter got progressively louder. Addison shaded her eyes to see where it was.
“Darshi change his mind?” Samuel yelled, looking up.
Addison had to lip-read. God, she hoped Naveen wasn’t that damn stupid. She shook her head. Not Naveen. Unless he’d somehow evaded arrest and hired a big black helicopter for a return trip from Malé—she hoped to hell he hadn’t—then this was someone else. Tourists, probably doing a flyby to see what was going on.
The helicopter was big enough to hold a lot of nosy people. She sighed inwardly. Rydell was already stressed. Having inquisitive lookeeloos buzzing them from overhead for the duration would just annoy him more.
She wondered absently who they were. People alerted to the titillation of a treasure salvage? The press? Since the project had to be documented and all the paperwork was available to anyone looking for it, it wasn’t uncommon to have boats and helicopters show up to watch what was going on with a salvage. They had to stay a certain distance away, and Captain Seddeth would deter anyone from landing on the Tesoro Mio, but it could get quite annoying having people photographing or filming as the team dived.
The rotors whipped the air right above them, frothing the water as the enormous helicopter cast a shadow over them. Then the ship gave a small jolt as it landed on the pad on the top deck.
Rydell and the others were still down. If she hurried, she could run up to the top deck to see who it was, and get rid of them before Rydell found out strangers were on board. He wouldn’t be happy. Sam didn’t look too happy, either.
Georgeo indicated himself then Sam, and thumbed up, indicating they’d go and see who the visitors were.
“It might be Naveen,” she answered Sam, even though she knew there was no way he could hear her over the din. She doubted it. Nav would be in the custody of Interpol by now. Unless … He’d given in far too easily this morning. And he was slippery. Slippery and smart enough to elude capture and double back for the paintings?
If so, he was—as Ry would say—shit out of luck. He wouldn’t know that his stolen artwork was securely on its way to Interpol.
If this was Naveen making a return visit, Addison had a few choice words for him. Given the mood and stress Ry was under right now, Addison didn’t think he could be counted on to be civilized, no matter who their visitors might be. And before she confronted him, she’d put in a call to her new friends at the Coast Guard and let them know Naveen was back on board and they could come back to collect his ass. This time they could screw diplomatic diplomacy and take him away in handcuffs.
She’d just crossed the first deck and was about to take the stairs to the second when what sounded like a gunshot was followed by an even louder crash of broken glass. She stopped dead in her tracks, whipping her head around toward the sound.
Running footsteps. A yell. Another volley of shots. Oh, God. Now what…?
A man, yelling, “Get down! Get down!” came barreling out of the darkness of the nearby lounge into bright sunlight.
Twenty-one
“What the—”
He shouldered her hard in the belly. With a thud Addison was down on her back on the hot wood deck. Adrenaline surged through her as surprise morphed into fear, then anger. Fighting, she tried to struggle her way out from under his oppressive weight. Punching, kicking, and biting. More so when she glimpsed the big black gun in his hand inches from her face.
“Addison! It’s me, Jax.”
Arms tight around her, he was full on top of her, his face inches from hers. It took several seconds of fighting him for his words and facial recognition to compute. “Are we good? Addy. Nod if you’re with me.”
His voice sounded muffled and distant although he was right there on top of her. Bewildered, feeling totally out of sync in a familiar place with a familiar person, but bizarre circumstances, she nodded.
He eased o
ff. Staying in a low crouch he grabbed her arm, urging her to crouch, too. “Stay low and haul ass.”
The sound of gunshots persuaded her to stay low and run with him. If she hadn’t kept up, she was pretty sure he’d be dragging her behind him into the salon. It took precious, disorienting seconds for her eyes to adjust to the dimness beyond the sliding glass doors. “What—”
Still gripping her arm in a punishing hold, he pulled her across the room, leading with his gun raised, and keeping flush with the paneled wall. “Hijackers.”
“No freaking way!” Inconceivable in fact.
“Your buddy the prince is with them. So’s your mother.”
Addison’s steps halted, and he almost yanked her arm out of the socket. “Naveen is hijacking the ship? He’s come for those damn paintings!”
“My guess. Our lives won’t be worth squat if they find out they’re gone.”
“Wait. Did you say my mother?” Of all the improbable, downright weird scenarios. She couldn’t fathom how Hollis could possibly be involved.
Jax, looking grim, eyes shifting as he watched for movement, nodded. “Yeah, I was hella surprised, too. But she’s the least of our problems. There are dozens of men, and they all seem to know their way around those automatics like pros.”
Maybe so, but considering Hollis’s propensity for machinations and causing trouble, Addison wouldn’t put it past her mother to be armed as well, or at least paying the goons very well. The thought of those long, elegant, red-nailed hands wielding a gun was mind boggling. Addison gripped Jax’s arm. “We have to warn Ry and the others!”
He shook his head, not realizing how hard he was gripping her. “They’ve already taken over the ship. My job is to protect you. He’ll figure it out.”
The crack of a gunshot was followed by an agonized scream of pain, the splintering of wood, and more gunshots, this time in quick succession. Sick with worry about Ry and the others, Addison winced. “How can he figure it out, Jax? He’s underwater. They could shoot him and the others as they come up. We have to go back. Damn it. We have to!”
“I’ll get you stashed and go and warn him. You’re my priority. Don’t give me that look, Addison. I’ll knock you out and carry you if I have to.”
“Then for God’s sake hur—”
One minute Jax was tugging her behind him at a run, the next he stumbled back into her with a grunt. It was all so quick she couldn’t quite comprehend what had just happened. He righted himself immediately, shoving her hard between his body and the wall. But not before Addison saw the red bloom on his pristine white shirt over his shoulder. “Dear God, you’ve been sh—”
“Get down. Get down!” He jerked her arm down until she was bent double and folded down hard on her knees behind the long, sectional sofa. Whoever had come into the room was blocked by his body. She was blocked by his body.
Jax fired a shot over the sofa back, his hand on her back to hold her in place, facedown. A volley of shots were retuned. The wood paneling behind her head splintered, and bits of wood showered her head and shoulders.
Jax grunted, and his restraining hand went slack as he fell back away from her. Addison crawled the few feet to reach him. “Jax!”
Limp and unresponsive, eyes closed, he looked dead. God, she hoped not. She felt the base of his throat for a pulse. Then realized she had no idea how to interpret the heartbeat she felt there. Fast, slow? Hard, soft? Hell, at lease he had a pulse.
She had to get help.
Their first mate, Badril Patil, was a medic. Where would he be at noon? Bridge? The hijackers would be there for sure. She’d take the outside stairs and go down to the crew’s quarters—
“Get the girl. Hurry.”
Like hell. Jax still held the gun in one lax, outstretched hand. Addison tried to pry it from his fingers, but a man reached over the sofa and grabbed her by the hair, hauling her to her feet, the sofa back between them. “Boss wants to see you, Sheila. Come along.” Pulling her by a fistful of her hair, he walked her along until they met at the end of the couch. Addison dug her nails into his wrist, but unless she wanted him to pull off a section of her scalp, it was useless to fight him.
Two other men, both cradling automatic weapons, laughed as the guy with the gun herded her in front of him. How did Naveen, a sophisticated, urbane man, know men like these thugs? On the other hand, how did a sophisticated urbane man continue to steal art worth billions of euros and think he’d get away with it?
She prayed Jax wasn’t dead as she worried about the rest of the crew. The fear that Rydell would surface from his dive to find his ship overrun by gun-toting thugs made her sick to her stomach.
Her eyes watered from the sharp sting of her hair being pulled. She dug the nails of both hands into the thug’s wrist. “If you want to keep this hand, let go of my hair, asshole,” Addison told the guy holding her. “No need to force me along. I’m looking forward to seeing your boss and giving him a piece of my mind. Trust me, I’m quite capable of getting there on my own.”
She had every intention of ripping Naveen a new one, so her steps were brisk. The guy didn’t let go, just clenched his fist more tightly into her hair and jabbed her in the back with his gun. “Move.”
There were headed down the polished-wood corridor toward the stairs to the second deck. A man dressed in white shorts and shirt lay on the floor. Addison gagged when she saw that he’d been shot in the head. Recently enough that blood and brain matter were still sliding down the wall.
Covering her mouth and nose with her hand she had to step over him or be brought down on top of him, because the guy hadn’t let go of his grip in her hair as he walked right over him, not missing a beat.
Four men waiting at the foot of the stairs fell into step. Two in front, two behind. Addison suppressed an un-lady-like snort. He had no damn idea who the hell he was going to confront. “Five guys to deliver me? We’re in the middle of the ocean. Where does he think I’ll run to?” No one responded as they started up the stairs. Addison’s temper climbed with each step. She didn’t try to break free. Hell freaking no! She wanted to talk to Naveen right now! This time she wouldn’t hold back a damn thing. She’d show Naveen Darshi a damn show of force. Better her than Ry when he saw his beautiful woodwork shot all to hell. She was about to rip Naveen a new one and let the chips fall where they may.
The guy prodded her again. Addison stopped dead in her tracks. Yeah, he almost ripped her arm from the socket, but it brought him to a halt, too. He gave her a menacing look and tugged harder. She held her ground. “Do. Not. Keep dragging me, buster. If you do, you’ll have to carry me kicking, scratching, and biting. Knock it off!”
“He’s waiting. Get the lead out, bitch!”
Addison narrowed her eyes at him and he faltered. “You know he and I are engaged to be married, right? What do you think he’s going to do to you when he sees these bruises and I tell him how you talked to me?” Drawing herself up tall, and haughty, Addison put everything she despised about Hollis into her tone.
“He didn’t say nothing about you being his fiancée.”
“Clearly you’re not his confidant. Go ahead, really. Keep moving. I can’t wait to see him again.”
For her pains she received a bruise-inducing prod in the back, but he did let go of her hair. “Shut up and walk.” This time when the guy started walking again, his hold on her arm wasn’t quite as punishing. The other men fell into step with them.
No surprise, they were headed for the bridge.
The first man opened the door. The one behind her shoved her inside with a hard slam of the flat of his hand between her shoulder blades. Pain flared brightly in her vision and stole her breath for a moment. Addison staggered into the middle of the room, and had to grab the console to remain on her feet.
The room, usually large and airy, was too hot, and crowded with people. Most of whom held some sort of weapon. Tony Seddeth lay dead or unconscious on the floor.
Be scared later. Do not damn well fall ap
art.
Then she saw her mother and a fierceness she didn’t know she had in the depths of her being emerged. It was a passion she never believed she’d feel again after her sweet baby died.
Addison narrowed her eyes at the woman seated cross-legged in the captain’s chair. Long shapely nylon-clad legs ended with five-inch-high black Jimmy Choos.
“Hollis. What are you doing here?” she demanded. “With armed men, for God’s sake?” Goddamn it. Addison did not want her mother on board any more than she wanted Naveen to suddenly return. He was there, standing beside her mother, but Addison wasn’t ready to look at him.
She hadn’t wanted Ry to go to jail for killing Naveen, but she didn’t have the same reservations when it came to killing her own mother. Not when she knew how utterly manipulative Hollis had been.
Wearing a white dress with large blood-red flowers on it, not a blond hair out of place, her mother looked as though she’d stepped from the pages of her beloved German luxury magazine, Deutsch. A fashion and society publication only considered high-class because of who it featured, and the value of their toys.
It made Hollis’s day if she was featured in the magazine, a handsome playboy on her arm. That playboy was frequently Naveen, who loved everything high-society, and having his picture taken, as much as Hollis did.
Her mother lifted her chin and said coolly, “This is business, Addison.”
“Illegal business.” Was her vapid mother aware that Naveen was Procioni? That he was the one stealing priceless artwork from the friends she’d introduced him to? She bet Hollis had no idea. Then again, maybe she did. Maybe she’d used Naveen to steal for her. Given Hollis’s acting skills—she’d never been genuine a day in her life—her love of money, and her favorite pastime of manipulating others to get what she wanted, perhaps Naveen was just Hollis’s puppet playboy in crime. “I don’t give a damn what it is. Neither of you—” She cast the men a withering glance. “None of you are welcome.”
