“I’m okay for now,” she replied. “It’s Uncle Jon who needs—”
“No, she’s not,” Finn interrupted her. “We were in the pirate’s line of fire and Chloe was hit.”
Reaction was finally setting in, and she tried to fight it but began to shiver uncontrollably. She was soaking wet, cold, and suddenly furious over the loss of the Fire. She’d been more than just a boat. She’d been a friend. Now she lay in a watery grave, and Chloe wanted to scream at the injustice of it all.
Jason grabbed a large, thick towel and draped it around her shoulders, effectively blocking the wind. “Go with the doc down to sick bay, and I’ll tell cook we have extra guests for dinner. Some hot food will warm your insides.”
Chloe opened her mouth to thank him, but nothing came out. Finn placed his hands on her shoulders and squeezed. “Do as he says.” He was every bit as soaked as she, his dark hair wet and heavy, barely ruffling in the wind, but he still commanded the situation. Right now though, she didn’t mind a bit. And when he turned her toward the cabin interior and gave her a nudge, she just lifted her bag containing the journal and followed the doctor.
Once inside the main cabin, her eyes widened at the sheer volume of maps, charts, and spiral notebooks. Paper covered every countertop, table, and most of the chairs. Not even the threadbare tan sofa was spared, though a rumpled blanket and tiny travel pillow competed for space. It looked exactly like someone had been eating, sleeping, and pretty much living in the cabin.
A set of stairs at the far end spiraled down and she followed the doc to a lower deck, one hand keeping a firm hold on the rail as the ship tossed in the waves, the other clasping the warm towel tightly around her. They moved along a narrow corridor and into a small, neatly organized infirmary. The Seagrove seemed steadier here in the center of the ship, also warmer now that they were away from the wind and rain, but she still shivered.
Uncle Jon was conscious and had been moved off the stretcher to a padded exam table. She immediately went to him and grabbed his hand.
“Chloe,” he whispered, still managing to sound hoarse. “The Fire?”
She shook her head. “Gone.”
He closed his eyes on a heavy sigh, but his grip on her hand tightened. “Finnegan?”
“He’s fine, Uncle Jon,” she choked out. “We’ve been rescued by a research vessel. It’s going to be okay.”
In the long run, she wasn’t so sure of that, but for now they had sanctuary. No threat of pirates, the promise of a warm meal, and best of all, safe passage to an as yet unknown island location.
Finn entered just then, taking stock of the situation in his efficient and capable way. The man was always so serious, and she’d never been more grateful for that fact. From the moment she’d met him in St. Lucia, he’d been in control, constantly reassessing and working through best-case scenarios. He’d even managed to pull off a harrowing escape despite overwhelming odds.
They owed their lives to his quick thinking. But it cost him. With the Fire gone, no doubt he’d lost his chance at earning the bounty money, and guilt snaked its way into her heart. She knew how much he needed those funds.
The man from North Star will be your guide.
It had been a true statement from the moment she met him. He was clever, levelheaded, extremely capable, and had the most compelling blue eyes she’d ever seen. She should tell him the truth behind the journal. If she did, maybe he’d stick around long enough to help them bring Lisa to justice.
“Let’s have a look at your arm,” a med assistant said. “Name’s Kyle. You?”
“Chloe.” She looked around Kyle at Finn. He’d scrubbed his hands and was now helping to cut away Uncle Jon’s mangled jeans and towel bandages so they could get to the wound. The doctor was prepping a bag of saline for an IV and listening to Finn as he described the pirate attack.
“Want to talk about it?” Kyle quietly asked her.
She glanced at him in momentary confusion. Did he mean the pirate attack? Her getting shot? Or her obvious but problematic fascination with the bounty hunter?
Kyle pointed to her right arm, solving the riddle.
She tried to focus on the situation at hand. “We slipped away from the ship in the dinghy and managed to stay undetected for several minutes. When the pirates discovered our escape, they weren’t happy about it. Fortunately, we were almost out of range when they began shooting.”
He was unwinding the hastily tied towel strips from her arm. “How’d you outrun their speedboats?”
“Didn’t have to,” she replied with a shake of her head. “They were too busy trying to survive the sinking.”
He stopped his inspection and stared at her in surprise. “You scuttled the ship?”
She nodded sadly, but was spared from saying anything more when Jason came in, carrying a tray loaded with cups of steaming hot tea.
He handed her one first. “It’s got a dab of whiskey in it, for medicinal purposes,” he said with a wink. She accepted it gratefully, wrapping her hands around the warm mug and taking a fortifying sip.
He handed the next cup to Finn. “Double shot for you,” Jason declared. “How’s the patient?” he asked the doc.
“It’s deep and ugly,” he answered, “but no major arteries were hit. We’ll stitch him up and get some antibiotics flowing through him. He’ll be in a lot of pain, but should be okay once the fever breaks.”
Chloe’s shoulders sagged with relief, and she lowered her head, sending up a quick prayer of thanks. Kyle got back to work on her arm, and she set the mug beside her on a stainless steel table, one rimmed by an inch-high ledge to prevent its contents from sliding to the floor, a smart addition since the ship rolled in the storm-tossed sea.
“And you?” Jason said as he moved her direction. “It doesn’t look too terribly bad. What’s the prognosis, Kyle?”
“Surface wound,” he answered as he pushed against the red, swollen skin of her arm. “It’ll leave a nice long scar as a souvenir.”
She flinched in pain from his handling, but didn’t cry out. Not even when he ripped open sterile packages of wound cleanser and began swabbing her arm.
“Lucky you,” Jason said.
She gave him a wan smile.
Finn set his half-empty mug next to hers and placed his hand on her shoulder possessively, broadcasting his claim to one and all. It was a subtle message that Chloe didn’t dispute, not on board a ship full of strangers. Better the devil you knew, than the devil you didn’t. But it was a protective move, and she appreciated it, though she doubted the necessity. The crew seemed to be just as they claimed.
“We were lucky you were in the area,” Finn said. “Things were about to get desperate for us if we hadn’t spotted you.”
“Looks to me like things had already gotten pretty rough,” Jason said as he pointed to her arm being wrapped in bandages. “Do you need to use our sat phone to call anyone?”
Finn nodded. “We sent an electronic SOS to the yacht’s security service. There are a couple folks we should notify.” He looked straight at her then. “SafeSail is one. They’ll be contacting the local authorities, even next of kin. If they can’t reach you, they’ll go to the next in line.”
Chloe knew what that meant. Lisa Banks. The trophy wife was the last person they wanted clued in on the Fire’s condition. But the alarm had been triggered several hours ago. Chances were, they’d already made that contact. Chances were even higher that she’d already heard the news from her pirate friends. She could be wiping out every bank account her uncle had right this minute, preparing to flee the country.
“We appreciate the offer,” Chloe said to Jason. “I’d like to make that call as soon as we’re done here.”
Jason nodded and leaned back against a wall of square cabinet doors, all black and of various sizes, each with a glass pane that revealed different medical supplies inside. “Your boat is at the bottom of the sea, I take it?”
Finn�
�s lips compressed to a thin line, and he nodded grimly. Chloe flinched. She knew exactly how much that truth cost him. She and Uncle Jon lost a yacht, a family refuge. He had NorthStar on the line. Like her, he was struggling to save something that had been in his family for generations. Thanks to him she was able to save her journals. Considering the circumstances, she owed him. He shouldn’t have to give up his heritage just so she could save hers.
Jason glanced between her and Finn with a look of open curiosity. “Where’d you pick up the pirates?”
“Dominican Republic,” Finn answered.
“With a name like Emerald Fire, it must’ve been one hell of a boat.” At Finn’s nod, Jason continued. “I’ll need to inform the Coast Guard. A nest of angry thieves trolling around won’t be good news for anyone.”
Unless you’re Lisa Banks, Chloe thought in disgust. Her step-aunt actually hired those cutthroats to rid herself of an unwanted husband and cash in on a multimillion-dollar insurance claim. What kind of cold-blooded monster did that?
With a last wrap of bandage around her arm, Kyle tossed the remainder on the side table. “One more little thing,” he said and held up a syringe. “A dose of antibiotic as a preventive measure. Open wounds and saltwater aren’t a healthy mix.”
A quick stab and it was over.
“Take these,” he handed her a few pre-packaged pills. “The blue ones are for pain. The others are more antibiotic. Start them tomorrow.”
She accepted the medicine with a simple thank you and then ran her fingers lightly over the bandage circling her arm. “Nice work.”
Kyle smiled wide. “Technically, you’re my first patient. I appreciate the practice.”
Chloe laughed softly. “Can’t say that I’m happy to oblige, but you did well.” She nodded toward the other patient. “My uncle?”
The ship’s medic was injecting something into her uncle’s IV as he answered her question. “He’s lost a lot of blood,” he stated as he disposed of the syringe. “But I’ve stitched him up and dosed him with antibiotics and pain meds. He’ll be out for several hours, which is good. He needs the rest.”
They’d come so close to a horrific end, a shiver snaked its way across her skin. Finn pulled the warm towel back around her shoulders, and she gave him a grateful smile.
Jason pushed off from the cabinet wall he was leaning against and glanced at his watch. “Okay, now that you’re both patched up, dinner is in a half hour and you don’t want to miss it. Our cook is world class. Only met one better, Tavi, and she was in Africa.”
Warm food sounded heavenly to Chloe.
“We only have one extra cabin,” Jason continued, “so you two will have to share. It’s tiny and has bunk beds, but it’s yours until we can safely harbor in the Bahamas tomorrow.”
He grabbed a stack of gym pants and T-shirts he’d carried in and handed them to Finn. “I scratched up some dry clothes for you both. If you’re ready, I’ll show you to your quarters so you can change before you make that call and we eat.”
* * * *
The mess hall was one big open room, probably the biggest on the ship. One end was dominated by a kitchen equipped with all the usual appliances, the other a scattering of small tables and a long sideboard covered with a coffee maker, condiments, snacks, and basic supplies a hungry crew would need. It wasn’t luxurious by any stretch, not with painted steel beam walls and metal floors, but Finn couldn’t be more thankful for the shelter, a hot meal, and dry clothes.
It was a hell of a lot better situation than two short hours ago. So why was he in such a foul mood? Their newfound safety and good fortune should’ve put him in high spirits. Not to mention that phenomenal kiss he and Chloe had shared when they thought they were dying. But she seemed to have forgotten all about that.
How could it be that she was injured, exhausted, and still managed to be a pleasant dinner companion? He struggled with that ability on a normal day. After fleeing pirates, getting shot at, and drowning a ten-million dollar yacht? Forget it. But she had Jason eating out of her hand.
Obviously she had depths he’d yet to discover. She sat there chatting up their host, smiling, laughing, and genuinely acting like she was glad to be alive. All he felt was irritation. It was unwanted and irrational and undeniable, and it was all because of her.
That kind of stupidity was…stupid. The last thing he needed was a muddled brain. He took a deep breath and tried to get it together.
“You did not,” Jason exclaimed.
“We did,” Chloe said with a grin.
What the hell were they talking about?
“So pirates stole the yacht to begin with, you stole it back, and they came after you so you sank it?” Jason sounded impressed. Or dumbfounded. Could go either way.
“That about sums it up.” Chloe spooned up another bite of gumbo and gave a sidelong glance Finn’s direction. Her look was inquisitive and scolding at the same time. How did she do that? “Your cook truly is beyond amazing,” she said, her attention returning to Jason. “His gumbo is the best I’ve ever tasted.”
Jason dropped his spoon into a now empty bowl and smiled wide. “Near-death experiences have a way of enhancing a recipe.”
They both laughed heartily at the joke, and Chloe reached for another handful of oyster crackers. “So does starvation. We haven’t had much in the way of cooked food lately.”
“Well, you’ve come to the right place.” He snagged a chocolate chip cookie off a small plate. “Wilson can work culinary magic with next to nothing. That makes him the most important man on this ship. Besides the doc, that is.” The last he added with a nod to Chloe’s arm, and she smiled warmly again.
Finn’s eyes narrowed. Jason had looks and charm, and the crew here seemed to respect him. He couldn’t find a single fault to latch onto except he and Chloe were acting all friendly. It felt wrong, like a kick in the gut, and he didn’t understand why.
It wasn’t because Finn was impressed by her strength and resilience. Or that she was tenacious enough to take on pirates, handle firearms without flinching, and still charm a complete stranger over dinner. It was more like she had turned him inside out and nothing made sense anymore. He thought he knew how to read people, and yet he had her all wrong. He’d pegged her for the sophisticate, the kind who spent her days relaxing poolside and sipping champagne. Instead, she was self-possessed, determined, and courageous.
He’d wanted to put her on a plane and send her back home just a few days ago. Now another man looked at her in appreciation, and he wanted to shove a fist into something. The only viable explanation was that he’d hit his head during their escape. Probably had a whopper of a concussion.
Finn sat back in his chair. The more he watched Chloe work her magic, the more his jaw clenched in aggravation. As the minutes crawled by, the crew cycled in and out, some grabbing a quick bite at one of the other tables, some taking a tray to go. The one thing they all had in common seemed to be a work ethic that didn’t slow down. A tropical storm brewing outside didn’t mean work stopped; it just moved everyone inside where they studied whatever data they’d collected.
Jason and Chloe suddenly burst out laughing, and he’d missed whatever caused it. He frowned, their easy banter only fueling his mystifying sense of irritation.
Chloe lifted her lemonade and took a sip, glancing at him over the rim of her glass. How did her lips still manage to curve while she drank? And how did she manage to look so fresh and enticing while wounded, exhausted, and wearing borrowed clothing?
“Don’t you agree, Finn?” she asked him.
He stared at her in consternation, suspecting that she knew he’d not heard a word of their conversation. Knew it and was pointing out that fact.
He decided to change the subject. “What exactly is the Seagrove researching?” Finn asked Jason abruptly.
Jason lifted a brow in interest, glancing between Finn and Chloe with a level of speculation that never ended well. Finn wanted to
swear. He’d made a point earlier of establishing a claim on Chloe, so for all Jason knew, the two of them were a couple. Except all through dinner Finn had done nothing but scowl darkly as Chloe beguiled Jason with an ease that should be a warning bell to any man within a hundred yard radius. Jason didn’t get the message, however. He just leaned back in his chair with a sense of calm that Finn used to own until the day he’d met Chloe Larson.
“Our crew works for the Wallace Ocean Science Institute in the Bahamas,” Jason explained to Finn. “The Seagrove is here to study the effects of environmental change in coral reef. Something NOAA is interested in enough to fund an expedition and provide a ship.”
“The National Oceanic and Atmospheric Administration?” Finn asked, suddenly interested. “Why is a federal weather agency interested in Caribbean marine life?”
“It’s complicated,” Jason replied. “Predicting catastrophic storms is only part of NOAA. Oceans and atmosphere are linked. What happens in one, affects the other. Coastal ecosystems are at the mercy of global climate patterns, which also affect shipping lanes, fisheries, oil drilling, the list goes on and on.”
“What’s happening in the Caribbean?” Finn asked.
“Increasing ocean acidification and thermal stress,” Jason replied. “Warmer surface water temperatures, rising sea levels, and higher concentrations of CO2 in the water. Any of it can signal a shift in ocean currents.”
Chloe sat forward in her chair, arms folded on the table in front of her. “Which can affect weather, economic stability, tourism, you name it.”
“You got it.”
“Are you a marine biologist?” she asked him.
“Not exactly,” he replied with a shake of his head. “Not yet, anyhow. I’m a bit of a hybrid. For the past several years I’ve been a veterinarian.”
Chloe laughed softly and shook her head. “What’s an animal doctor doing in the middle of an ocean studying coral?”
Emerald Fire Page 12
