“I say we just stock up and keep moving,” Finn said. “Miami or Ft. Lauderdale is a better option.”
“Why don’t we sail her all the way to Boston ourselves?” Jonathan responded.
Finn warmed to the idea. A nice relaxing sail up the eastern seaboard would be a perfect anecdote to rattled nerves and itchy suspicions. The fact that it suited his ill-advised desire to get to know Chloe a little better had nothing to do with the idea’s appeal.
“I like it. Sounds like a plan,” Finn agreed. “It’s settled then.”
“What’s settled?” Chloe asked as she entered the bridge carrying an ice bucket filled with three longneck bottles of beer, the scotch, and a tray of snacks.
Finn cleared his throat. “Our destination.”
She looked inquiringly at him. When he didn’t answer, she turned to her uncle who just stared out the front windshield like they were in jeopardy of hitting an iceberg.
“Where are we headed?” she asked.
“Boston.” Finn braced for the argument.
“Okay.”
That was it? No protest, no indignation over a long drawn-out sail? She argued over everything else, and now she decided to become agreeable? He didn’t believe it for a minute. “What do you mean, okay?”
She just shrugged. “It’s a good idea, that’s all.”
So he got what he wanted. And again, it was too easy. All this success was making him nervous. It usually came with a price.
Chloe slid the tray onto a table and handed the cold beer around. “Here’s to the Emerald Fire,” she said as she lifted her bottle for a drink.
“Here’s to NorthStar,” Finn said in response.
Jonathan choked on his beer. After a brief coughing spell, he set the bottle in a cup holder and brushed a hand over his face.
Chloe stepped up beside him and clapped him on the back. “Finn owns a boat repair shop in Mystic. It’s called NorthStar.”
Her uncle nodded, but shot a strange look Finn’s direction. That was two for two with this family. Why did the name of his shop cause such a shocked reaction?
“Boat repair, eh?” Jonathan asked. “What’s up with the insurance gig?”
“A side business that pays the bills for now.”
“Well, I can see why Sam hired you to do the job,” Jonathan said. “Having the balls to steal a ship from pirates probably puts you at the top of his must-hire list.”
“It’s not my preferred method of recovery, but there weren’t many options.” And NorthStar had to have that wood lathe. Without it, they lacked the ability to work on bigger ships, something the company needed to stay viable. And stay on track to expand into the niche market of tall ship restoration. For that, he needed real money.
“Have you called Sam yet?” Jonathan asked.
“Yesterday, when our plane landed in Santo Domingo. I contacted him to let him know we’d located the Fire. He doesn’t know we’ve found you or the plan to steal the yacht from pirates. I’ll make contact again when we dock for fuel. Let him know we were successful.”
“Don’t tell him yet.”
“Why not?”
Jonathan didn’t answer, but the tight set of his jaw spoke volumes. Chloe set her beer down and stepped behind her uncle, wrapped her arms around his shoulders, and rested her cheek against his back.
“You don’t want her to know you’re alive, do you?” she asked softly.
He reached up and patted his niece’s hand. “I want the element of surprise when I confront her.”
Finn understood that sentiment and completely sympathized with Jonathan Banks, but his paycheck depended on Sam being in the know, along with returning the Emerald Fire safe and sound.
“I can’t hold off telling Sam for long,” Finn said. “If he doesn’t hear from me soon, he will send in the cavalry. Didn’t you say he’s your friend?”
Jonathan nodded. “Known him for twenty years.”
“So you know he can be discreet. He’ll keep this quiet until we get back.”
Chloe released her uncle, but stayed close, leaning back against the console beside him. “Lisa wouldn’t have been able to hide her true colors for much longer, Uncle Jon,” she said with a sad little shake of her head. “I’m just glad you didn’t fall victim to her greed.”
“Mike and Brett did.” Anger glittered in her uncle’s eyes. “And for that she’s going to pay.”
Finn agreed wholeheartedly. If the woman hired pirates to commit murder, she needed to face the consequences of that crime. But accusing her was easy, proving it not so much. “So far Lisa’s actions only look incriminating,” Finn stated. “We know first-hand her ultimate goal, but proving it in a court of law will take planning on our part. We need to build a case against her.”
Jonathan swiveled his chair toward Finn. “What do you have in mind?”
Finn set his half-empty beer down, taking a second to consider the best move. “Our goal is to gain more incriminating evidence and keep the upper hand. To do that we need to fly under the radar, give her room to dig a deeper hole.” He stared hard at Jonathan. He hadn’t known the man long, but if his niece was any indication, this request wouldn’t go down easy. “It’s important that you stay hidden. Out of sight. Out of contact. She needs to think she’s winning.”
Jonathan didn’t react, just sat there. Chloe was frowning, which probably wasn’t a good sign either. Lisa Banks needed to be behind bars, but arresting and prosecuting were two different things. Whatever the plan turned out to be, it needed to happen after he surrendered the yacht to Boston Marine, not before.
“What if she tries to run?” Chloe asked. “Won’t the pirates tell her their plan failed?”
Finn shook his head. “Not if she’s paid them. They won’t volunteer that information unless they have to.”
She nodded, accepting his logic, but didn’t look thrilled about it.
“Let’s get to Boston,” Finn said. “We’ll sit down with Sam Brady and figure out our next step. They have attorneys who will press charges against her for insurance fraud. Until then, radio silence. Agreed?”
“The worry and uncertainty will probably give her heartburn,” Chloe said with relish. “I like it.”
“Remind me to stay on your good side,” Finn said.
Chloe arched an eyebrow at him before turning to face her uncle. “He’s right, Uncle Jon. To get justice for Mike and Brett, and see Lisa get what she deserves, we need to play this smart.”
Good to know she had common sense. He was still in total shock at her continued agreement with his plans, but he wasn’t about to question his good fortune, not with so much at stake.
Jonathan’s jaw worked. “I want to be the one to confront her, to tell her that she failed.”
“You deserve that right,” Finn said. “But right now you’re the trump card. The last thing she’ll expect. We can’t waste the advantage that offers.”
Chloe laid a hand on her uncle’s arm. “We’ll bring her and everyone involved down. And you can lead the charge. Finn can make that happen. Right?” The last she said with a pointed gaze in Finn’s direction.
“When I talk to Sam, I’ll insist on it.” He met Jonathan’s eyes. They were full of anger and a burning need to dish out payback.
“If you promise me that I get to deal the winning hand against her,” Jonathan replied, “then it’s a deal.”
“That settles it,” Finn stated. “Tomorrow we bring Sam into the loop. He’ll be our eyes and ears in Boston until we decide how best to proceed.”
Jonathan scrubbed a hand across his face. “I can’t believe it’s come to this.” He grabbed his beer and took a long pull.
“I’m so sorry, Uncle Jon,” Chloe said softly. “I know you loved her, but she’s incapable of returning the emotion. It’s all about the money for her.”
Finn frowned and looked away as a splinter of guilt assailed him. Finding the Emerald Fire and risking their l
ives against pirates was all about the money.
What did that say about him?
Chapter 10
Three a.m., and they still ran dark. Finn had slowed their speed considerably, concerned over the hazards of running at night. Other ships, marker buoys, unexpected sandbars, and even with state of the art navigation, accidents could happen. And the Emerald Fire came equipped with a dashboard panel that inspired poetry. It was a boat nerd’s wet dream, complete with enough gauges, switches, and control systems to make an aircraft cockpit jealous. Too bad most were turned off in an effort to keep lights at a minimum.
Still, between the glow of the instrument panel and low-level floor lights, the bridge was illuminated enough to see what was what. Outside the windshield, a waning moon hung low on the horizon, and its meager light, together with a GPS system in operation, they had enough guidance to keep putting distance between them and the pirates of Boca Chica.
Finn scrubbed a hand across the back of his neck, pulling on tight muscles. He shouldn’t still be so tense. They had possession of the yacht and the bounty money was all but in his hands. He should be elated. Instead, a nagging itch wouldn’t leave him alone.
“Want some company?” Chloe asked softly as she stepped onto the bridge.
At her sudden appearance, he curbed the unexplainable worry. “Why aren’t you sleeping?” he asked as she joined him at the console.
“I can’t,” she said and settled into the co-pilot’s chair. “Something doesn’t feel right.”
So she felt it, too. That wasn’t good. He glanced her way with a frown, but one look, and he ditched all thought of menacing pirates and irrational concerns. Chloe wore the rumpled look of someone who had just climbed out of bed, and it was sexy as hell. Her hair lay in soft waves around her shoulders, and one wayward lock curled just above her breast. He wanted to touch it, hold it in his hand, and feel the silkiness glide through his fingers. He reluctantly squashed the impulse and forced his attention back to the ship’s navigation panel.
“How’s our heading?” she asked as she peered into the darkness outside the windshield.
He gathered his thoughts and gave a coherent answer. “We’re in open waters, halfway to Turks and Caicos.”
“I’ve always wanted to explore the Caribbean.” She swiveled her chair his direction. “But this isn’t really what I had in mind.” Her lips curved into an appealing smile.
He smiled back. “I don’t know why you’d say that. Surely everyone dreams of beating pirates at their own game.”
“Everyone with a death wish, maybe.” She brought her bare feet up to the seat and wrapped her arms around her legs. “That’s an adventure I never want to repeat.”
Finn angled his head to the side as he eyed every delicious inch of her, from her tousled bedroom hair to her girly pink toenails. “You are a strange one, Chloe Larson.” Nothing about her made sense.
“Just what every girl wants to hear,” she said with a roll of her eyes.
“I mean it in the best possible way,” he said with a cheesy grin. And to his surprise, he actually did. She really wasn’t what he’d expected.
“As flattering as that sounds”—her tone implied that it wasn’t—“gun battles and life and death situations are not my cup of tea.”
“And yet you jumped into the fray with excitement and handled an AR15 like a seasoned pro.” A fact that still needed answers.
She shrugged, so he continued.
“You also stormed a pirate stronghold, disabled an enemy, immobilized half their fleet, and stole their grand prize. Your bravery amazes me.”
Her eyes widened at his words, and she captured her lower lip between her teeth before a frown settled on her face. He didn’t know what kind of reaction he anticipated, but he wanted her to talk, to spill what it was that drove her to take risks. Because something did. Sane people didn’t run into a deadly situation without good reason.
“It’s okay to accept a compliment, Chloe.” He wanted her to warm up to him, to confide in him. To answer questions like where she learned to shoot, why the name of his company made her choke, and what kind of underwear she wore beneath those loose shorts.
“I appreciate it, really,” she finally said. “I just don’t deserve them. I did what needed to be done.”
“Not many would go the lengths you have for a relative.”
She turned away from him, suddenly interested in the darkness outside the windshield.
To bring that warm brown gaze back his way, he changed the subject, but only indirectly. “Do you think Jonathan will cooperate and stay out of sight?”
“About that,” she said, suddenly all business. “I agreed with the logic of your efforts, but what exactly is your plan?”
She sounded defensive all of a sudden. It didn’t make sense. He was the one with unanswered questions here. “You know, it wasn’t that long ago when you told me I was the harsh one. When did we trade places?”
She didn’t give an inch. “When I helped you gain Uncle Jon’s cooperation to stay hidden without knowing your ultimate agenda.”
“You know why I’m here,” he declared. “There’s nothing mysterious about it.” Time to lay the cards on the table. “You’re the one with something to hide.”
She didn’t even flinch, just stared at him calm as you please. “That’s crazy. Why on earth would you think that?”
Her cool reserve impressed him. He’d have to try harder. “Well, for starters, you found your uncle, yet you still risked your life to get to this boat.”
“So did you.”
“True, but I had that ultimate agenda. Money. What’s yours?”
She didn’t immediately answer. Instead, she left the chair and moved to stand at the starboard windows, staring out at the night beyond. “It’s a little complicated.”
“It usually is,” he said drily. “Try me.”
A heavy sigh escaped her. “A couple weeks ago I hid a journal in one of the staterooms.” She didn’t turn around as she spoke. “I wanted it back.”
“It must be pretty important to warrant risking your life to get it.”
“It belonged to my ancestor, eight generations back. There are passages regarding the War of 1812.”
“Okay.” Now they were getting somewhere. “And naturally, being the historian in the family, it fell on you to get it back.”
“Don’t sound so skeptical.” She finally looked at him. “That journal is a very important historical document. It details aggressive trade measures President James Madison placed against Britain and how the New England states threatened to secede from the union because of it.”
“I can understand that.” His gut said there was more to the story. “I want to know why it’s personal to you. What’s in the journal that’s important enough for you to fly to St. Lucia and risk personal injury to get it back?”
“It’s my job,” she said simply, like that explained everything.
“Can you be more specific?”
She folded her arms in front of her. “I work for a company that seeks out lost historical artifacts or cultural treasures for a variety of clients. Museums, foundations, even countries. Taking chances is part of the package.”
That explained a lot, but not everything. “I’m willing to bet this job is off the record.”
“It is,” she admitted.
“Why?”
“Before my mother died, she was working on a genealogy project. She was trying to make a connection between our ancestor and Prussia’s royal family.”
“And that’s worth risking your life over?”
“It won’t change the course of history,” she replied, “but proving it was important to her, and to me.”
“I still don’t get it.”
She turned from the window and aimlessly walked the bridge. “Historical record may have been manipulated to hide a transgression. That sin may be worse than what they tried to cover up. I’d like
to set it straight.”
“A historian’s work is never done, that it?”
She shrugged. “Did you know that when the British burned Washington DC in 1814, our Congress almost moved the capital to Philadelphia? The vote came extremely close to passing.”
She was deflecting. “While that’s interesting to be sure, right now I just question your sanity.”
A smile softened her lips. “History is worth preserving, Finnegan Kane.”
“I agree. History has given me NorthStar. But preserving it, making it viable in today’s world, costs money. That’s why I’ve a new partner”—he waved a hand in her direction—“and steal from pirates.”
She stopped and gave him a questioning look. “What will happen when we get back to Boston?”
“I get this boat turned into the authorities and leave the rest to Sam Brady and your uncle. But if Jonathan wants to make a case against his wife, I recommend he keep out of sight as long as possible.”
“Easier said than done,” said Jonathan from the bridge doorway.
Finn cast an exasperated glance at the man. “Honestly, can no one sleep on this boat?”
Chapter 11
The late morning sun blazed high above them, the Turks & Caicos should be fifty or sixty miles ahead, and the three hours of sleep Finn just had wasn’t near enough, but it would have to do until after the supply run. Jonathan should be running an inventory of their supplies, including weapons, while Chloe had control of the bridge. He needed to check on their status.
He splashed cold water on his face, trying to shock the tired out of his system. It barely helped. Another splash, and he raked the water through his hair, trying to rub life into his numb brain. Absolutely nothing about this recovery made sense. Why would she willingly risk her life for an old journal? Why had they shared startled reactions to the name NorthStar? And the biggest of all, why didn’t he trust they were home free of pirates?
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