Jason smiled. “Exactly my point. She’s got courage. Life around her won’t ever be boring. I’d think about uncomplicating things if I were you.”
Finn didn’t want to think about anything but getting off this boat, getting Chloe alone, and heading back to NorthStar. In that exact order.
“Anybody ever accuse you of being a matchmaker?” Finn asked.
Jason laughed. “More than once. But my record is spotless. As long as one doesn’t count that time right after my Africa trip when I set up two mutual friends without realizing one was actually a transvestite.”
Finn choked. “You’re kidding, right?”
“I wish,” Jason said with a shake of his head. “Knew the girl over a year without ever realizing she was really a he.”
“How on earth?”
“In my defense, he was gorgeous.” Jason grinned. “And I didn’t hang out with her crowd much.”
“You realize that following up romantic advice with a story like that blows your credibility all to hell?”
“Don’t know why,” he replied with a nod toward the main cabin. “Just look at her. Tell me everything I said isn’t true.”
Finn turned to see Chloe and Jonathan slowly making their way toward them. Jonathan was on crutches, and it looked like the effort to move cost him dearly. But despite yesterday’s ordeal, Chloe was fresh from a shower, wholesome without a drop of makeup, and confident enough to take on the world. She looked up at him right then, and he could swear he saw the memory of last night’s visit to third base in her eyes. He felt certain parts of him tighten in response.
“She’s trouble,” Finn said.
Jason clapped him on the back. “The best kind, my friend.”
Shouts from the dock interrupted, and the clatter of a deck ladder being secured to the ship signaled it was time to go.
Finn reached out to shake Jason’s hand. “We appreciate the hospitality. If you ever find yourself in Mystic, Connecticut, don’t hesitate to look me up.”
Chloe reached out to hug him. “I don’t know how we can ever repay you. But we owe you a huge debt of thanks.”
Jason wiggled his eyebrows at Finn over Chloe’s shoulder. The message seemed clear. Trouble. No matter which way you looked at it.
* * * *
It didn’t take long to figure out that Jonathan needed another day of rest and pain meds before he’d be in any shape to fly. Part of Finn chaffed at the delay, the other, bigger part was actually thankful for the additional time. Twenty-four hours wouldn’t make any difference in puzzling out the journal, but in terms of recuperation, it meant a great deal. For all of them.
They took an island taxi to the Grand Lucayan, an all-inclusive resort with sprawling grounds, endless pools, and easy access to the Port Lucayan marketplace. They’d traded back the borrowed clothes for the ones they wore when they boarded the Seagrove, and though they were beat up, at least they were clean.
They walked into an expansive two-story lobby painted a soft warm yellow. The second floor was open to the lobby, lined by graceful balustrades and sectioned off with tall stone columns. Combined with ceiling-high palm trees and warm brown leather furniture, it delivered an aura of tropical elegance. It didn’t take long to check in; they had little baggage and just wanted a quiet corner to relax and figure a few things out. Before long they were ensconced in a suite of connecting rooms. Finn had a one-bedroom suite, complete with a living room, kitchenette, and media center holding a work desk, Wi-Fi, dual phone lines and data ports. Chloe’s room connected off the opposite side of the living room, and Jonathan’s connected on the other side of Chloe’s. All three had a spectacular ocean view and sliding glass doors to a balcony offering refreshing ocean breezes.
Chloe immediately settled her uncle in the far room where he could rest undisturbed. She’d ordered him room service and intended to get a couple knockout pain pills inside him. Finn used the time to plug in his laptop for a solid charge and made a phone call to Sam Brady.
It took some doing to bring Sam up to speed on everything. The news that Jonathan Banks was alive had Sam muttering a hearty “Thank God,” but the rest of the tale sent him sliding downhill. In just over thirty minutes, his boss experienced near every reaction that Finn endured over the last forty-eight hours. From elation that they’d found Jonathan and the yacht, shock that it now lay at the bottom of the ocean, and raging fury over its loss and Lisa Banks’ treachery. Sam was ready to call in the National Guard to apprehend Lisa, and it took some doing to get his promise to keep quiet until they’d made the flight home and figured out their next move. The only details he left out were the historical journal, a greedy and deceitful cousin, and emeralds worthy of a queen. That he’d keep to himself for now.
He’d just hung up the phone when Chloe joined him in the suite’s living quarters.
“Uncle Jon polished off an entire bowl of island chowder and two pain pills. Once the meds take effect, he’ll be out like a light for several hours.”
Excellent. They were relatively safe, in a tropical setting, and enough alone time to get back to where they were last night before the big revelation. Things were definitely looking up. “I’ve brought Sam at Boston Marine up to speed. He’s ready and willing to jump on things at his end.”
She made her way to the kitchen and grabbed a cold bottle of water from the mini-fridge. He watched her take that first long drink and tried not to stare, but he couldn’t help a downward sweep from the curve of her throat to the scoop neck of her torn blouse.
“I also booked us three tickets to Providence, Rhode Island for tomorrow afternoon,” he continued. “I’m afraid it won’t be an easy trip for your uncle.”
“He’ll make it,” she replied. “He’s anxious to get home.”
Finn shook his head and closed his laptop. “Not home,” he corrected. “He has to come to Mystic with us.”
She walked over to the sliding glass doors and gazed out at the deep blue water on the horizon. “You understand this new deal of ours is risky and comes with no guarantees,” she said without turning around.
“Are you having second thoughts?” It was much too late for that, but it was a valid question, and he was curious how she’d answer.
She turned to face him with a shake of her head. “You need to be aware of what you’re agreeing to. I don’t know for certain if the emeralds are even available to find.”
That was fair enough and a risk he was willing to take. Not that he had any other option at this point. “You say that, and yet you believe in the possibility strong enough to have risked your life against pirates in order to get the journal back.”
Chloe sipped on her water, as though she was buying time to consider her response. He liked that about her, but he also wanted to stir her up, get the sea siren of last night to make another appearance.
“The historical significance of those pages alone makes it worth saving,” she finally replied. “The part about the emeralds is seductive, but it doesn’t mean we’ll succeed in finding them.”
Did she just say seductive?
“Finn?” Chloe waved a hand at him when he didn’t respond. “Are you listening?”
This new talking penchant of hers was a double-edged sword. On one hand, he wanted to sit down and wrangle out every last detail of her search. On the other, he wanted to lay her down and feel out every last curve. He’d get nowhere with either until she’d made her point.
“I’m trying to think,” he said as he swiveled in the desk chair to face her. “You talk as though I’m not already in this neck deep. Lisa Banks may not know about my involvement yet, but there are some very angry pirates that do. I’m a target either way. But that doesn’t matter because I’m not leaving you alone to face someone willing to commit murder. Ms. Banks needs to be put away for a long, long time.”
She turned from the view outside. “I agree, which is why I’m struggling with our priorities. I mean, shouldn’t nailing Li
sa Banks rank higher than a treasure hunt?”
“Absolutely. But the two are deeply connected. Who says you can’t do both at the same time?”
“Because everything in me is screaming to go after her.”
“Would it help if I told you that what you’re feeling is normal?” he asked.
“No.”
“Seriously, Chloe, try to separate from the anger. It interferes with the ability to act logically.”
She sighed heavily.
“Look at it this way,” he continued. “If your cousin is involved, then Lisa knows about the jewels. If all else fails, don’t you think she’ll want to go after them?”
Her jaw worked in frustration. “Yes, she will.”
“Then it makes sense for us to beat her to it.”
She didn’t move, didn’t blink for several heartbeats. He waited as she fought an internal battle and saw the second she turned the corner. “Okay,” she finally said. “Let’s talk details.”
Now they were getting somewhere. Finn stood. “Well, for starters, you wanted a partner. Now you have one. For better or worse.” Lately it’d been worse, but flipping that around was pretty high on his to-do list.
“For what it’s worth,” she said, “I’m sorry I dragged you into this.”
“This has certainly been one of my more challenging cases.” Never in recent memory had he gone to the lengths he had with this one. The difference was the woman standing in front of him.
“I’m afraid that if it continues, you’re going to regret ever meeting me.” She lifted the water bottle for another drink, and his gaze zeroed in on a rip in her blouse, one that revealed a hint of lace beneath. Regret meeting her? Not likely.
“Do you believe in fate?” he asked her.
“I’ve never given it much thought.”
“Desmond said the man from NorthStar will be your guide. Doesn’t that imply some sort of predestination to you?”
She shrugged. “I don’t have an answer to that. Maybe it’s just coincidence.”
“Maybe, but I doubt it.”
She looked at him with a puzzled expression. “Why do you say that?”
“I read the journal last night.”
“All of it?”
He nodded. “It was interesting. Parts of it were fascinating.”
“And doing so made you believe in destiny?” she asked skeptically.
“No. It was something else.” The journal lay on the coffee table, and he moved over to the sofa and sat down. He opened the book and began turning pages.
He knew she wouldn’t be able to resist the curiosity. When she followed and sat beside him, he smiled in satisfaction.
“It’s not what he wrote,” Finn said, “but what he drew.”
A frown creased her brow. “There are several sketches. Can you be more specific?”
He turned a few more pages until he found what he was looking for. “This one”—he pointed—“does it mean anything to you?”
She glanced down at the elongated maritime star and back up at him, shaking her head. “Not really. Why?”
“I’ve seen it before.”
Anticipation brightened her eyes. “What do you mean? Where?”
“NorthStar.”
Her eyes grew round in surprise.
“What do you think of fate now?” he asked her.
“I’m warming up to it.”
That’s just what he wanted to hear because they were destined to finish what they started last night. She just didn’t know it yet. But she would.
“My father has an old chalice that he claims has been in our family forever,” Finn said. “He keeps it wrapped up and stored safely away. I’ve only seen it a few times over the years.” Finn tapped the drawing on the open page. “But this same star is etched on that chalice.”
She gently shook her head in disbelief. “You’re kidding, right?”
“Afraid not. See how the top of the star is elongated, not the bottom? It’s pointing north. The question is…why is that same star in your journal and on our Kane family heirloom? That has to mean something important.”
She leaned forward to stare down at the star and the rip in her shirt gaped open. He caught a glimpse of smooth tanned skin and a fluff of white lace. But then she straightened and the enticing display was gone.
“This kind of thing only happens in movies,” she said in denial. “It can’t be real.”
“You’re coming with me to Mystic. You can see for yourself.”
She sat back against the sofa’s throw pillows, looking slightly stunned as she chewed on her lower lip. “I definitely want to see that chalice.”
That thing she did with her lips was absurdly sexy. He really shouldn’t watch if he wanted to get anything accomplished. He’d be better off working through every angle of how this partnership can go wrong instead of anticipating that date with destiny thing.
“How long has NorthStar been in your family?” she asked.
“Since the mid eighteen-hundreds,” he replied. “It hasn’t fared well over the generations. Neither has the family. In nineteen-twenty-something, it fell to a daughter who almost sold it to fund a grand trip abroad. But she got married instead, and her son tried to revive the business with minor success. It’s been in decline for decades, though. Until now.”
In his mind’s eye, he pictured the historical New England harbor of Mystic. Back in the day of wooden sailing ships, it had been a shipbuilding empire. Today it was a tourist destination full of quaint shops and Victorian homes.
He returned his attention back to her. “We still have a couple of buildings from the days of old, including a dry dock. We had to shore the pilings, and she’s sturdy, but there are a few others that still need work.” He glanced back at the journal. “As a kid, my parents and I lived in the old house on the grounds, and I used to poke around the rundown buildings, imagine myself a captain who sailed the seven seas.”
“It sounds like a wonderful childhood.”
“At times, it was,” he said. “At least while my mother was alive. After she passed, the place went from being a young boy’s dream to being an unwanted pile of musty and forsaken old relics. For a long while, I hated it and wanted to leave.”
“That’s an understandable reaction.”
Right. She would know that pain better than most. She’d lost both parents at the same time. That had to be unimaginably hard.
“I eventually left,” he continued. “Hired on with a marine salvage company. But that didn’t last long before I joined the Navy. Dad stayed, but never did anything with the place, preferring to work his own fishing boats instead. For another dozen years, things fell deeper into neglect.”
“What changed?”
“I did. I stayed away for a very long time. Then my dad had a heart event, and I flew home. He was fine, but as it turned out, I wasn’t. Seeing him, the place, the town, suddenly I was homesick. I went back to my job, but it wasn’t the same. That visit stirred a part of me that I thought long dead, and I started making plans to go back.”
She’d remained mostly quiet through his stroll down memory lane, but she turned to face him on the couch and the edge of her bandage peeked below the sleeve of her blouse. A sudden and stark reminder of their narrow escape.
“Tell me the truth,” she said quietly. “How bad is NorthStar’s financial trouble?”
He didn’t want to answer that question. Didn’t want to admit to himself that his plans for the place could very well go up in a puff of smoke if this new deal of theirs didn’t pan out. He didn’t want to be the Kane who had to sell out. He wouldn’t be.
“By the time I took the reins of NorthStar,” Finn explained, “it wasn’t much more than a crumbling ruin. There were a few salvageable buildings…the dry dock, the house, and storage bins. I put in countless hours of manual labor cleaning the place up. I had some cash saved and planned to put NorthStar back on the map.”
> He rose from the sofa and opened the sliding glass doors, allowing the cool ocean breeze to fill the room. He took a deep breath of the salt-scented air and let the rhythmic sound of surf ease the rising tension from his shoulders.
“I started taking on a few restoration jobs,” he said as he stood at the doorway. “Dinghies, cats, small sailing ships to generate cash flow, but it wasn’t enough to cover the kind of repair NorthStar itself needed. I knew the facility was ancient and needed work when I started, but I underestimated how bad things really were.”
Chloe joined him at the door and pressed a cold bottle of wine into his hand. One of those single glass-sized bottles from the mini-bar. She had one too and lifted it in a toast. “Go on,” she said quietly.
“I took an inventory of every building, every scrap of wood, and piece of equipment. Then I prioritized repairs and got busy. The list of needs was extensive, and it didn’t take long to burn through my savings.” He twisted the cap off the chardonnay and took a quick drink. “That’s when I started doing bounty work. Little by little, things began to improve. Once I upgraded tools and equipment, I was able to take on bigger restoration jobs. Dad had retired and still lived in the old house, so he went to work for me dividing his time between boat repair and maintenance on NorthStar.”
He took another, longer pull of his wine. “That was five years ago. In that time, I’ve built a modern dry dock, added some specialty equipment, demolished unsalvageable structures to make way for newer. Even built a modest house for myself at the edge of the property. Overall though, I tried to keep what historical integrity I could.”
“The history buff in me is glad to hear that,” she said with a smile.
“Right,” he breathed out with a soft laugh.
The sun had finally made an appearance, and she crossed the lanai to the railing where she leaned back against it, facing him. “It sounds to me like you’ve made incredible progress.”
“I have,” he agreed. “The problem is that I’m now stuck between two worlds.” He moved out into the sun to join her and relished the familiar warmth on his skin. “I’ve been upgrading big, keeping each purchase or rebuild aimed at making NorthStar a world-class restoration business. And it’s working. Good jobs are coming my way. I’ve even been contacted by a museum that wants me to work on a privateer sloop from the eighteen-fifties. The Siren was a blockade runner and built for speed. It’s a dream commission that will open doors for me.”
Emerald Fire Page 15
