Emerald Fire

by Monica McCabe

  She continued to glower at him. Definite trouble all right, but if he played his cards right and she shared whatever information brought her here, her determination to find her uncle might pay off.

  “So how’s this work?” she asked with the first hint of speculation. “You find my uncle’s boat, turn it in to authorities, and the insurance company writes you a check?”

  “Roughly.”

  “How much?”

  Okay, that was a little personal. He wasn’t getting anything more than industry standard, but she stared at him with a frosty expression that needed to melt. So he answered her. “Ten-percent the yacht’s value.”

  He watched her calculate the amount, wrapping her head around the seven-digit figure he desperately needed to take home. The words “critical importance” barely covered this job. He’d too much at stake to even contemplate not finding the yacht.

  “Rather an exorbitant paycheck, don’t you think?” Chloe asked.

  “Not from an insurance company’s perspective. A million dollar bounty is cheaper than a ten-million dollar claim.”

  She still frowned, so he added, “I don’t get paid if I don’t deliver.”

  And they wasted time standing here talking. Every minute that passed, the odds of finding a stolen ship sank faster than a lead anchor. But at least she was nodding in understanding. He’d take that as progress. “Why don’t we sit over there and talk about it?” He pointed to an empty picnic table perched at the edge of a break-wall.

  She chewed her bottom lip for a second, then turned and made for the table without a word. Finn followed and took a seat opposite, his back to the water. The incoming tide splashed against the concrete bulwark behind him, and a brisk wind loosened a few strands of her hair, but she paid them no mind as she set her bag next to her on the bench seat.

  “So,” she began matter-of-factly, “you find the Fire, and the insurance company gets out of paying the claim.”

  There she went again. “Why do you make that sound like a bad thing?”

  Her smile grew. It was a slow and wicked display that immediately set him on full alert. “I’ve no idea,” she said too sweetly. “It’s an excellent policy. We need to do all we can to find Uncle Jonathan and his boat.”

  Her sudden change in demeanor was interesting, but so was the effect of a Caribbean sun on her hair. She had deep auburn streaks, and it took no effort at all to imagine it loose and free, curling around her shoulders. It was a seductive picture, especially if he added something low-cut and provocative rather than the neatly tailored slacks and pearl-buttoned blouse she currently wore.

  She was going to be trouble.

  “There’s no we,” he stated emphatically. “In fact, you should get on a plane and go back home.”

  “I’m not going anywhere until I find Uncle Jon or the Emerald Fire.”

  Finn recognized stubborn when he saw it. He came from a long line of Irish stock well versed in the art of digging in.

  “You haven’t told me why you’re here,” he said. “And don’t expect me to believe concern for your uncle had you instantly hopping a plane. What’s your stake in this?”

  “You think I’m after something?” Chloe put both hands on the table in front of her and leaned slightly forward. “My uncle is missing, Mr. Kane. Do you really need more of a reason than that?”

  Aye, he did. Things were never as they seemed on the surface. “Call me Finn. And I hate to break this to you, but the odds of your uncle being alive are pretty slim.”

  Her eyes widened a bit at that piece of brutal honesty. “That’s harsh,” she said quietly. “Your bedside manner could use a little softening.”

  A sting of remorse nailed him. Especially when another gust of wind blew past them and Chloe reached to tuck away the loose strands of hair. The move was gentle, almost vulnerable, and for some reason, highly alluring. And she was right, his words were callous. Statistics didn’t lie, though, and he shouldn’t either. False hopes never helped anyone.

  “Let’s face facts,” he said. “Unless the Emerald Fire came well-armed and equipped to fight piracy, it usually doesn’t end well.”

  “Pirates?” She laughed in disbelief. “Argh, and I left my cutlass at home. Perhaps I could borrow yours?”

  “I’m serious, Chloe. Boats disappear out of these waters all the time, never to be heard of again.” He eyed her small frame and prim outfit. “No offense, but you look like a school teacher. What possible defense could you bring against men using satellite phones and rocket-propelled grenades?”

  “For the record, I’m a historian, not a school teacher.”

  By the saints. It was worse than he’d thought.

  “And we aren’t dealing with pirates here,” she continued, “unless you call Lisa Banks a pirate, which might be a pretty apt description, come to think of it. Uncle Jon’s trophy wife loves money over anything else. I’m beginning to wonder how far she’ll go to get it.”

  “You don’t like her much, do you?”

  Chloe shrugged. “It’s a long story.”

  “What makes you think she’s involved?”

  “Several reasons.” Chloe’s fingers massaged her temples as though she had a headache. “Uncle Jon and Aunt Sarah were married over thirty years when Sarah died of cancer. Lisa weaseled her way into Uncle Jon’s life immediately afterward. Six weeks later, they married. Since then she’s spent money like crazy. Clothes, jewelry, lavish trips, you name it. For some unexplainable reason, Uncle Jon doesn’t see the gold digger beneath the pretty exterior.”

  “And you do?”

  “It’s rather obvious. Lisa isn’t much older than me, plus she never misses a chance to cut me down with innuendo. Just never in front of Uncle Jon. She’s sweetness itself when he’s around.”

  “So she’s jealous of you. It wouldn’t be the first time a pretty young wife resented attention given to someone she considers a rival.”

  “I’m his niece!”

  It was his turn to shrug. “Sometimes it doesn’t matter.”

  “Well that pretty young wife is seeing someone on the side.”

  “You’re sure of this?”

  “Positive.” Her fingers began tapping on the table. “The woman is beyond crafty. She knows how to cover her tracks, and she knows how to play Uncle Jon. I’ve caught her in a few questionable situations, but she always has an excuse.”

  “That doesn’t mean she’s involved in the Fire’s disappearance.”

  “There’s more.” She turned her attention out to the bay, her expression troubled. “This whole trip was her idea. She’d found a source for rare black pearls in Trinidad and pushed my uncle to take her to get them. When the day came to go, she backed out at the last minute.”

  “Your uncle left without her?” Finn said, surprised.

  “Not unusual,” Chloe said and again tucked loose hair behind her ear. “Uncle Jon owns several upscale jewelry stores. He’s passionate about acquiring unique or outstanding gems and minerals. Black pearls would be irresistible. Plus she promised to fly down and join him for the sail back home.”

  “So…what?” He was still skeptical. “You think she set up an ambush in St. Lucia? Hired thugs to hit her husband?”

  “I spoke to the St. Lucian police this morning. They told me Lisa Banks is the one who called them to report the yacht missing. Then she wasted no time calling Boston Marine to file an insurance claim. What do you think?”

  He thought it didn’t sound good. The kind of money at stake here was more than enough motive for murder. It was all too common a story.

  “Well, your aunt did one thing right,” he said. “Her enthusiastic call to Boston Marine got me here early enough for a fighting chance at finding your uncle’s boat.”

  A ghost of a smile traced her lips. For some reason that made him nervous.

  “I might be able to up your odds.”

  “Oh? You know which direction the Fire sailed away in
?”

  “Maybe.” She pulled a folded piece of paper out of her bag. “Team up with me, and you can have this.”

  He eyed the paper in her hand with a bad sense of inevitability. “What’s that?”

  She unfolded the document and dangled it in front of him. “Last night’s GPS coordinates for the Emerald Fire. So, do we have a deal?”

  Chapter 2

  “Where’d you get that?” Finn snapped.

  The brusque question meant he was interested. She probably wasn’t the only one to hit a brick wall with local authorities.

  “Uncle Jon pays for maritime security services.” She handed over the paper. She was smart enough to know when she needed help, and he had a stake in the outcome. A fact that could work in her favor, if she was careful.

  “SafeSail is a high level company.” He pointed to the fax header. “Advanced boat tracking, satellite security systems, hired guns. What grade does your uncle have?”

  “Not sure,” she replied honestly. “But high enough that I received a phone call at three a.m. to inform me of a breech.”

  Really, the man had the most incredible ocean-blue eyes. And lashes any girl would envy, but right now those eyes glared at her with a thousand questions. It made her uncomfortable. She wanted his help, not an inquisition.

  “Why are you listed as contact person and not the wife?”

  “I’ve always been close to my uncle. I used to sail with him a lot, until he married the pirate, that is.” She was fast warming up to the new nickname for Lisa. “Now she sails with him. I’m sure he wanted someone other than his fellow sailor to be contacted.”

  He nodded in agreement with her logic. “So you got the call and rushed on down. Why not let police handle the situation? Why come in person?”

  Careful, Chloe. An investigator, and a good one if she believed his boast, would be far too observant.

  “I stopped at Uncle Jon’s first to tell Lisa,” she began. “She was furious that I got the call and not her. Funny, isn’t it? You’d think she’d be worried. Her husband just went missing.” Chloe added that to the growing list of reasons to suspect foul play.

  “A bad sign, but you haven’t answered my question.”

  The guy was certainly focused. Under different circumstances, a girl could appreciate that fact. Right now it was nothing but inconvenient. “I’m here because I’m concerned, Mr. Kane. Uncle Jon is the only decent family I have left.”

  And that was the sad truth. Still, she didn’t like the way his stare zeroed in on her, using silent intimidation to wrangle more of an explanation. It was a battle he wouldn’t win. She’d learned the hard way to keep a poker face, reveal only what was necessary. So she just stared back, calm as you please.

  He didn’t drop the Mr. Serious Intensity bit, though, and tapped on the GPS coordinates. “Do you know where the numbers mark?”

  “The general area. I left rather quickly and planned to pinpoint it once I arrived.”

  He rubbed at a heavy five o’clock shadow on his chin, an indication that he flew all night to get here, just like her. Probably on the same plane, though it was odd she hadn’t noticed him.

  “Why didn’t you give this to the Port Authority?”

  “The man had a condescending attitude,” she scoffed. “Why would I release my one trump card, knowing he’d toss it aside?”

  “What makes you think I won’t do the same?”

  “You’ve something to gain, Finnegan Kane. You can’t get much stronger motivation than money.”

  He scowled. She waited, confident she had him. It paid off.

  “We need internet access.” He stood up. “Let’s go.”

  She grabbed her bag and followed. “Does this mean you are teaming up with me?”

  “It means I need more information.”

  She hustled to keep up with his long-legged stride as they crossed to the parking lot. “Look, we both want the same thing here,” she reasoned. “You’ve heard the saying ‘necessity is the mother of invention’?”

  He glanced at her sideways. “I have.”

  “Well, she’s also the builder of good partnerships.”

  “I don’t need a partner.”

  “Yes, you do,” she insisted.

  At least, she did. Getting her feet onboard the Fire was critical, so whether he liked it or not, he was stuck with her. Years’ worth of research was on the line, and no damn pirate was going to take it from her.

  She stopped at her rental Jeep, a brilliant orange nightmare made special for tourists. “This is my car.”

  His look of pure horror had her laughing for the first time since receiving the three a.m. phone call.

  “You actually rented that thing?” he asked incredulously.

  She agreed the color was a tad gauche, but then she had no trouble finding it in a parking lot either. “It’s all they had left.”

  “Well, I’m not riding in a circus mobile.” He flicked his thumb down the row. “Mine’s down there along with my laptop. We’ll go in it.”

  He left no room to argue, not that it mattered. She’d follow him anywhere if he could find the Emerald Fire.

  They climbed into a respectable blue four-door sedan, and Finn unfolded a city map. He spent a minute studying the streets, and Chloe used the distraction to study her reluctant partner.

  He came across as no-nonsense and stuffy. Not to mention uncooperative in working together, but in her peculiar line of work, she’d handled his kind before. The most disconcerting aspect was how darkly gorgeous the man was, no doubt melting every heart from here to the moon. Midnight black hair, deeply tanned skin, and broad shoulders that amply filled the polo shirt he wore, Finnegan Kane could be a cover model for Elite Yachting magazine. How did someone with such appealing blue eyes and sexy brooding lips end up a serious-minded bounty hunter?

  A toned down version of the question hovered on the tip of her tongue, but he tossed the map on the seat between them and fired up the car. Seconds later, they were joining the traffic headed toward the center of town.

  “For the sake of speculation,” Finn said, “let’s say your aunt did it.”

  “Oh, she did it,” Chloe vowed. “I just don’t know how yet.”

  He glanced sideways at her. “You understand that’s a tall accusation. A hundred and twenty-foot-yacht doesn’t easily disappear. She’d have to be connected with the right people and have major money to spend.”

  “Well, Lisa is nothing if not devious. She probably has underworld contacts.”

  “Underworld contacts?” Skepticism laced his words.

  “Yeah, pirates, crime bosses, felons in general.” She knew what he was thinking. Her obvious dislike of her step-aunt colored her perspective. Maybe it did, just a fraction. But the growing body of evidence against Lisa was undeniable.

  “So the wife hires the job done,” he continued as he stopped at a red light. “If she’s smart, she’d order the boat taken far out into the Atlantic and sunk, leaving no chance of discovery.” The light changed, and they began to move again. “That kind of larceny comes with a high price tag. Even if she paid the fee, chances are the thugs told her it was done and sent the ten-million-dollar yacht to the black market.”

  “What happened to honor among thieves?”

  He shot her a world-weary look.

  Funny, she never dreamed that greed would be her saving grace. “Let’s hope what you say is true,” she said. “Because if the Fire is at the bottom of the sea, neither of us wins.”

  He stood to lose a big sum of money. For her, it would be a loss of historical proportions. Eight generations to be exact. She never should’ve hid the old journal on board.

  They were leaving the city and entering the hills, Castries’ version of suburbia. Downtown buildings were a mix of old and new, but on the outskirts the architecture looked reminiscent of the New Orleans French Quarter. The streets were narrow and lined by a menagerie of colorful town
houses sporting ornate wrought iron balconies, a riot of flowers, and the same flirtatious atmosphere of indulgence and romance.

  She wasn’t interested in any of it. The only thing she wanted from her reluctant, albeit gorgeous, partner was help in finding the Fire.

  And to find her Uncle Jon alive and well. His fate worried her to no end. The only solace came from the fact that her uncle was a streetwise and savvy businessman. He could outsmart the best-laid plans, always find the angle. For him to fall prey to pirates was unimaginable. He knew the sea and its dangers. He’d find a way to escape harm.

  He had to be out there, somewhere.

  They crested a ridge, and Finn turned onto another tiny street before squeezing into a parking spot in front of a quaint café on the edge of the hillside.

  Minutes later, they were seated out back on a large deck, their table next to the rail. Sunshine surrounded them, along with palm trees and pink bougainvillea. From under the shade of a deep green umbrella, Chloe glanced down the steep mountainside, then outward to a panoramic rivaling any postcard she’d ever seen.

  Castries spread out below them. A bustling capital city nestled between high volcanic mountain peaks and wrapped around a deep elongated horseshoe bay of vivid blue. In the center of the bay, a mammoth cruise ship commanded the harbor, while small office buildings and multi-floor hotels spread from the airport on the right to Morne Fortune, a hilltop colonial battleground on the left. It was all lush greenery, sparkling water, and sun-drenched tropics. The kind of place tailor-made for honeymoons and romantic getaways, not a rally point for pirates and gold-digging wives bent on murder.

  After they ordered lunch, Finn opened his laptop and began tapping the keys. She leaned over to watch. When Google Earth filled the screen, he typed in SafeSail’s GPS numbers. The globe shifted to the Caribbean and honed in near an island just north of them.

  She caught her breath on a hopeful flare of expectation. “Where is it?”

  “The southern coast of Guadeloupe. But that was hours ago. Doesn’t mean that’s her current location.”

  She stared at the map, at the countless little islands dotting the screen. “Still, it doesn’t look like the pirates are taking the Emerald Fire out to sea.”