A good day for lookout duty, he decided. And a good day for recovery work.
“How goes it?” he called down to Rosario when he noticed his midshipman stepping beneath the palm trees.
“Carlo says ’tis possible!” Rosario yelled. “Says the hold is cracked in half, but much of the treasure remains in clay vases and wooden crates!”
“Thank you, Madre Maria.” Bartolome sent up a prayer, crossing himself.
“Carlo says ’twill take time!” Rosario continued. “Some of the deeper goods will have to wait ’til lowest tide, but—”
Hoorah! The sound of cheering had Bartolome glancing toward the reef where a line of men hauled in rope. Two of Bartolome’s best divers bobbed to the surface at the same time the crate on the end of the rope was pulled atop the reef.
“We can do this, Captain!” Rosario grinned up at him. “Just look!”
It was too soon for Bartolome to celebrate. There was still much to do. “You know what to do with it, Rosario,” he told his midshipman.
Rosario snapped him a salute, the smile still splitting his face. “Aye-aye, Captain! For King and Country!”
Like NCIS and Maya Banks?
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Author’s Note
I tried to do justice to the beautiful setting, the rich history, and the magnificence of Fort Jefferson and Dry Tortugas National Park. I did change some minor details—like the ranger’s station and the crack in the foundation—to better fit this story. Welcome to the wonderful world of fiction writing! That said, dear readers, if you ever get the chance to travel to remote Garden Key and Fort Jefferson, don’t hesitate. Do it. It’s a humbling and awe-inspiring place.
Acknowledgments
A big thanks to my husband. This past year certainly wasn’t an easy one, was it, sweetheart? But through it all, you were there. Right beside me. Holding my hand. I couldn’t ask for a better partner on this crazy journey of life.
I have to give a shout-out to Sean, Whitney, and Dan. In the name of research for this book, the three of you gamely hopped aboard an itty-bitty floatplane piloted by a bearded, barefoot, retired Coast Guardsman. You’re all crazy. Which is probably why I love you.
Fist bumps to Deb, my editor, for making this book shine. Same goes to Nicole. This one was a doozy, wasn’t it, ladies? Team effort all the way. A big thank-you to Dawn, my cover designer, for this amazing cover. And hugs to the whole Sourcebooks crew for always supporting me and my work.
About the Author
Julie Ann Walker is the New York Times and USA Today bestselling author of romantic suspense. She has won the Book Buyers Best Award, been nominated for the National Readers Choice Award, the Australian Romance Reader Awards, and the Romance Writers of America’s prestigious RITA Award. Her latest release was listed as a Best Summer Read of 2015 by Publishers Weekly. Her novels have been described as “alpha, edgy, and downright hot.” Most days you can find Julie on her bicycle along the lakeshore in Chicago or blasting away at her keyboard, trying to wrangle her capricious imagination into submission.
Continue reading for an excerpt from the first book in The Deep Six series
Present day
10:52 p.m.…
“And the Santa Cristina and her brave crew and captain were sucked down into Davy Jones’s locker, lost to the world. That is…until now…”
Leo “the Lion” Anderson, known to his friends as LT—a nod to his former Naval rank—let his last words hang in the air before glancing around at the four faces illuminated by the flickering beach bonfire. Rapt expressions stared back at him. He fought the grin curving his lips.
Bingo, bango, bongo. His listeners had fallen under a spell as deep and fathomless as the great oceans themselves. It happened anytime he recounted the legend of the Santa Cristina. Not that he could blame his audience. The story of the ghost galleon, the holy grail of sunken Spanish shipwrecks, had fascinated him ever since he’d been old enough to understand the tale while bouncing on his father’s knee. And that lifelong fascination might account for why he was now determined to do what so many before him—his dearly departed father included—had been unable to do. Namely, locate and excavate the mother lode of the grand ol’ ship.
Of course, he reckoned the romance and mystery of discovering her waterlogged remains were only part of the reason he’d spent the last two months and a huge portion of his savings—as well as huge portions of the savings of the others—refurbishing his father’s decrepit, leaking salvage boat. The rest of the story as to why he was here now? Why they were all here now? Well, that didn’t bear dwelling on.
At least not on a night like tonight. When a million glittering stars and a big half-moon reflected off the dark, rippling waters of the lagoon on the southeast side of the private speck of jungle, mangrove forest, and sand in the Florida Keys. When the sea air was soft and warm, caressing his skin and hair with gentle, salt-tinged fingers. When there was so much…life to enjoy.
That had been his vow—their vow—had it not? To grab life by the balls and really live it? To suck the marrow from its proverbial bones?
His eyes were automatically drawn to the skin on the inside of his left forearm where scrolling, tattooed lettering read For RL. He ran a thumb over the pitch-black ink.
This one’s for you, you stubborn sonofagun, he pledged, flipping open the lid on the cooler sunk deep into the sand beside his lawn chair. Grabbing a bottle of Budweiser and twisting off the cap, he let his gaze run down the long dock to where his uncle’s catamaran was moored. The clips on the sailboat’s rigging lines clinked rhythmically against its metal mast, adding to the harmony of softly shushing waves, quietly crackling fire, and the high-pitched peesy, peesy, peesy call of a nearby black-and-white warbler.
Then he turned his eyes to the open ocean past the underwater reef surrounding the side of Wayfarer Island, where his father’s old salvage ship bobbed lazily with the tide. Up and down. Side to side. Her newly painted hull and refurbished anchor chain gleamed dully in the moonlight. Her name, Wayfarer-I, was clearly visible thanks to the new, bright-white lettering.
He dragged in a deep breath, the smell of burning driftwood and suntan lotion tunneled up his nose, and he did his best to appreciate the calmness of the evening and the comforting thought that the vessel looked, if not necessarily sexy, then at least seaworthy. Which is a hell of an improvement.
Hot damn, he was proud of all the work he and his men had done on her, and—
His men…
He reminded himself for the one hundred zillionth time that he wasn’t supposed to think of them that way. Not anymore. Not since those five crazy-assed SEALs waved their farewells to the Navy in order to join him on his quest for high-seas adventure and the discovery of untold riches. Not since they were now, officially, civilians.
“But why you guys?” The blond who was parked beneath Spiro “Romeo” Delgado’s arm yanked Leo from his thoughts. �
��What makes you different from all those who’ve already tried and failed to find her?”
“Besides the obvious you mean, mamacita?” Romeo winked, leaning back in his lawn chair to spread his arms wide. His grin caused his teeth to flash white against his neatly trimmed goatee, and Leo watched the blond sit forward in her plastic deck chair to take in the wonder that was Romeo Delgado. After a good, long gander, she giggled and snuggled back against Romeo’s side.
Leo rolled his eyes. Romeo’s swarthy, Hispanic looks and his six-percent-body-fat physique made even the most prim-and-proper lady’s panties drop fast enough to bust the floorboards. And this gal? Well, this gal might be prim and proper in her everyday life—hell, for all Leo knew she could be the leading expert on high etiquette at an all-girls school—but today, ever since Romeo picked her and her cute friend up in Schooner Wharf Bar on Key West with the eye-rolling line of “Wanna come see my private island?” she’d been playing the part of a good-time girl out having a little fun-in-the-sun fling. And it was the fling part that might—scratch that, rewind—did account for the lazy, self-satisfied smile spread across Romeo’s face.
“I’m serious, though.” Tracy or Stacy or Lacy, or whatever her name was—Leo had sort of tuned out on the introductions—wrinkled her sunburned nose. “How do you even know where to look?”
“Because of this.” Leo lifted the silver piece of eight, a seventeenth-century Spanish dollar, from where it hung around his neck on a long, platinum chain. “My father discovered it ten years ago off the coast of the Marquesas Keys.”
Tracy/Stacy/Lacy’s furrowed brow telegraphed her skepticism. “One coin? I thought the Gulf and the Caribbean were littered with old doubloons.”
“It wasn’t just one piece of eight my father found.” Leo winked. “It was a big, black conglomerate of ten pieces of eight, as well as—”
“Conglomerate?” asked the brunette with the Cupid’s-bow lips. Tracy/Stacy/Lacy’s friend had given Leo all the right signals the minute Romeo pulled the catamaran up to Wayfarer Island’s creaky old dock and unloaded their guests. It’d been instant sloe-eyed looks and shy, encouraging smiles.
Okay, and confession time. Because for a fleeting moment when she—Sophie or Sophia? Holy Christ, Leo was seriously sucking with names tonight—sidled up next to him, he’d been tempted to take her up on all the things her nonverbal communications offered. Then an image of black hair, sapphire eyes, and a subtly crooked front tooth blazed through his brain. And just like that, the brunette lost her appeal.
Which is a good thing, he reminded himself. You’re gettin’ too old to bang the Betties Romeo drags home from the bar.
Enter Dalton “Doc” Simmons and his nearly six and a half feet of homespun, Midwestern charm. He’d been quick to insert himself between Leo and Sophie/Sophia. And now her gaze lingered on Doc’s face when he said in that low, scratchy Kiefer Sutherland voice of his, “Unlike gold, which retains its luster after years on the bottom of the ocean, silver coins are affected by the seawater. They get fused together by corrosion or other maritime accretions. When that happens, it’s called a conglomerate. They have to be electronically cleaned to remove the surface debris and come out looking like this.” Grabbing the silver chain around his neck, Doc pulled a piece of eight from inside his T-shirt. It was identical to the one Leo wore.
“And like this,” Romeo parroted, twirling the coin on the chain around his neck like a Two-Buck Chuck stripper whirling a boa.
Their first day on the island, Leo had gifted each of his men—damnit!…his friends—with one of the coins, telling them their matching tattoos were symbols of their shared past and their matching pieces of eight were symbols of their shared future.
Leo tipped the neck of his beer toward Doc. “Maritime accretions, huh? You sound like an honest-to-God salvor, my friend.”
Doc smirked, which was as close to a smile as the dude ever really got. If Leo hadn’t seen Doc rip into a steak on occasion, he wouldn’t have been all that convinced the guy had teeth.
“But even a conglomerate of coins wouldn’t be enough to guarantee the ship’s location,” Leo added, turning back to the blond. “My father also found a handful of bronze deck cannons. All of which were on the Santa Cristina’s manifest. So she’s down there…somewhere.” He just had to find her. All his friends were counting on that windfall for various reasons, and if he didn’t—
“But, like you said, your dad tried to find this Christy boat for”—Leo winced. Okay, so the woman seemed sweet. But the only thing worse than mangling the name of the legendary vessel was referring to it as a boat—“like twenty-some-odd years, right?”
“And Mel Fisher searched for the Atocha for sixteen years before finally findin’ her.” He referred to the most famous treasure hunter and treasure galleon of all time. Well, most famous of all time until he and the guys made the history books, right? Right. “In shallow water, like that around the Florida Keys, the shiftin’ sands are moved by wind and tide. They change the seabed daily, not to mention after nearly four centuries. But with a little hard work and perseverance, you better believe the impossible becomes possible. We’re hot on her trail.”
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Hold Your Breath
Search & Rescue Book 1
by Katie Ruggle
In the remote wilderness of the Rocky Mountains, rescue groups—law enforcement, rescue divers, firefighters—are often the only hope for the lost, the sick, and the injured. But in a place this far off the map, trust is hard to come by and secrets can lead to murder.
That’s why Callum, the surly and haunted leader of the close-knit Search and Rescue brotherhood, finds it so hard to let newcomer Louise “Lou” Sparks into his life. But when these rescue divers go face-to-face with a killer, Callum may find that more than his heart is on the line…
Look for the rest of the Search & Rescue series:
On His Watch (available only in ebook)
Fan the Flames
Gone Too Deep
In Safe Hands
For more Katie Ruggle, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
Fan the Flames
Search & Rescue
by Katie Ruggle
In the remote Rocky Mountains, lives depend on the Search and Rescue brotherhood. But in a place this far off the map, trust is hard to come by and secrets can be murder.
As a Motorcycle Club member and firefighter, Ian Walsh is used to riding the line between the good guys and the bad. He may owe the Club his life, but his heart rests with his fire station brothers…and with the girl he’s loved since they were kids, Rory Sorenson. Ian would do anything for Rory. He’d die for her. Kill for her. Defend her to his last breath—and he may just have to.
Every con in the Rockies knows Rory is the go-to girl for less-than-legal firearms, and for the past few years, she’s managed to keep the peace between dangerous factions by remaining strictly neutral. But when she defends herself against a brutal attack, Rory finds herself catapulted into the center of a Motorcycle Club war—with only Ian standing between her and a threat greater than either of them could have imagined.
Praise for Hold Your Breath:
“Sexy and suspenseful, I couldn’t turn the pages fast enough.” —Julie Ann Walker, New York Times and USA Today bestselling author
For more Katie Ruggle, visit:
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Gone Too Deep
Search & Rescue
by Katie Ruggle
In the remote Rocky Mountains, lives depend on the Search and Rescue brotherhood. But in a place this far off the map, trust i
s hard to come by and secrets can be murder.
George Holloway has spent his life alone, exploring the treacherous beauty of the Colorado Rockies. He’s the best survival expert Search and Rescue has, which makes him the obvious choice to lead Ellie Price through deadly terrain to find her missing father. There’s just one problem—Ellie’s everything George isn’t. She’s a city girl, charming, gregarious, delicate, small. And when she looks up at him with those big, dark eyes, he swears he would tear the world apart to keep her safe.
With a killer on the loose, he may have no choice.
Ellie’s determined to find her father no matter the cost. But as she and her gorgeous mountain of a guide fight their way through an unforgiving wilderness, they find themselves in the crosshairs of a dangerous man in search of revenge. And they are now his prey…
Praise for Hold Your Breath:
“Chills and thrills and a sexy, slow-burning romance from a terrific new voice.” —D.D. Ayres, author of the K-9 Rescue series
For more Katie Ruggle, visit:
www.sourcebooks.com
Flash of Fire
Firehawks
by M.L. Buchman
The elite firefighters of Mount Hood Aviation fly into places even the CIA can’t penetrate.
When former Army National Guard helicopter pilot Robin Harrow joins Mount Hood Aviation, she expects to fight fires for only one season. Instead, she finds herself getting deeply entrenched with one of the most elite firefighting teams in the world. And that’s before they send her on a mission that’s seriously top secret, with a flight partner who’s seriously hot.
Devil and the Deep (The Deep Six) Page 31
