Pirate Gold and Murder Read online

  “Fee.” I turned to find him entering the shop, pausing at my side, that cold and calculating smile not reaching his eyes. Far too close for my comfort, though when I tried to increase the distance between us, one of his arms slid around my waist and, to my shock, tucked me firmly against his hip. “How nice to see you.”

  So, he’d hit on me a few times before (gross, just gross), sometimes covertly, once or twice more openly. But this was the most overt, the aggressive way he held me firmly in his grasp, his face hovering over mine, tongue snaking out to moisten his lips as he stared at my mouth with intent the first time I’d ever actually felt like I might need to take self-defense action to protect myself.

  Dear. God. Was he thinking about kissing me? I was going to throw up.

  This day couldn’t get worse, I was sure of that. Except, this was Reading, right? And I was Fiona Fleming. Worse was not only expected, it was the kind of constant companion one wished would take a flying leap already.

  It wasn’t Darius who came through the door in a rush. At first, I assumed it would be the looming bodyguard who took Geoffrey out. I had a flash of the mountain of a man whipping out that giant gun of his and flinched at the expectation of a gunshot even as my mind processed the tall, broad-shouldered and furious former sheriff I’d married who grasped Geoffrey by the shoulder, spun him toward him and, in an uncharacteristic show of lost temper, punched the accountant full in the face.

  ***

  Chapter Ten

  It all happened so fast I could only stand there and gape, though the whole world seemed to slide into a wobbly kind of agonizing slow motion I could do nothing about. Instead, as though encased in the thick and gooey passage of time, trapped and forced to observe in horror rather than have any ability to intervene in the unfolding drama, I watched Crew’s follow through, Geoffrey falling back from the blow, a stream of blood flying in tiny droplets through the air, shining bright red in a ray of emerging sunlight streaming through the coffee shop door. The Patterson accountant hit the floor and seemed to bounce, eyes huge, mouth gaping open, while Crew drew back, shoulders wide, fists at his sides, looking for a moment like some kind of avenging superhero.

  Only then did Darius intervene, appearing like the shadow he was, restraining hand on my husband’s shoulder as time sped up to normal and the hubbub of patrons and staff flooded my ears in a cacophony that gave me an instant headache.

  Too late, Darius. The damage was done. And as I met my darling’s eyes, and noted the deep shame there, the regret and his own self-judgment for losing his temper like that, I knew I wasn’t the only one carrying the burden of all the crap we’d been through, and not just the treasure hunt, either.

  Geoffrey made it to his feet with the help of a pair of customers, though he snapped a snarl at them and pushed them off once he was upright, dabbing at the blood flowing from his nose with the back of his hand.

  “You’ve done it now, Turner,” he said. “You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.”

  Crew let him go without speaking, without meeting his eyes, before pulling me aside, Darius standing guard beside us while the excitement died down and, as was typical of my town, everything went back to normal.

  Not so normal, though, the contrite expression on Crew’s face, how he wiped at his mouth with one hand, wincing as I took it and examined it for injury. He’d have bruises on his knuckles, but I didn’t think he’d broken anything, at least.

  “Fee,” he said, low and intense, “I’m so sorry. I don’t know what got into me.” He cleared his throat, glanced around, clearly embarrassed. “I can’t believe I lost it like that.”

  I hugged him, near to tears. “We’ve been through a lot,” I whispered. “It’s okay. We’ll handle it.”

  But Crew shook his head, pulling back, jaw jumping, that tic under his eye leaping into life. I hadn’t seen it in ages, used to be the cause. Knew I wasn’t this time. Not that it made it any better. “I know better than to be jealous,” he said. “I trust you. It’s just…”

  I’d always wondered if Crew noticed Geoffrey’s attention but I’d never asked. Clearly that had been a mistake. “I’m sorry,” I said. “You know I’d never—”

  He kissed me then, took his turn embracing me. “I know. I do. I just can’t stand to see him touch you.”

  “Well, I don’t really enjoy the experience myself.” I tried for lighthearted and barely reached bitter. “It’s my fault. I asked Darius to back off. If I hadn’t, Geoffrey wouldn’t have gotten anywhere near me.”

  “No,” the big bodyguard grumbled, interrupting. “It’s my fault. I should have shot him ages ago.”

  Crew and I both stared, and I know my husband had the same thought. Should we laugh? Darius wasn’t known for his sense of humor. And the big man’s threat, considering his line of work, was real.

  Until a slow smile spread across his face. “I was kidding. You can relax.”

  I returned my attention to my husband, still not sure if I could trust Darius and not able to bring myself to care if Geoffrey did turn up the worse for wear. “My hero,” I said. “Now, stop it. Okay?”

  Crew swallowed and nodded, but not in agreement. “I’m just so sick of them, Fee,” he said, barely above a whisper. “The Pattersons, Rosebert, Geoffrey, this town. All of it.”

  “I get it.” I squeezed his hand. “Of anyone, I get it, Crew.” He nodded again, body uncoiling. “Do you want to walk away from this? From all of it? Because, you say the word, and we’re out.” I was shocked to discover I meant it. Not just the hunt, but Reading. If it meant my husband was happy, I would leave this all behind and to hell with the hoard, with the cutest town in America, and the lingering mysteries that still ate at me.

  Crew inhaled, smiled, kissed me once more, himself again. “I love you, Fiona Fleming,” he said. “Let’s go find the gold and shove it in their faces.”

  There was that. Vengeance it was.

  ***

  Chapter Eleven

  It wasn’t until I was sitting in the passenger’s seat of Crew’s SUV, my pug deposited safe and sound at the annex, the vehicle carrying us toward the yacht club and our first dive that I remembered to tell him about the hair clip.

  Crew listened without comment before sighing. “I’m sorry, Fee,” he said. “I wish there was something I could do.”

  I reached over and squeezed his hand, trapping it in mine. “It’s just a hair clip,” I said, feeling my shoulders sag. “And it didn’t even have all the jewels. She can keep it.”

  We both knew it was less about the clip and more about the principle of the thing. I hated sucking my sweet husband into the downward spiral of my mood, but considering he’d had his own disheartening experience this morning, it wasn’t all my fault, I suppose.

  Picture us, then, as we pulled in and parked, our overjoyed enthusiasm as we exited the cab of the truck, our bubbling excitement while we schlumped our way to the dive shack, the abundance of our positive optimism when MC opened the door to us, a frown on her own face, Anja and Chantal looking about as perky where they worked with the dive equipment that was going to keep us all safe underwater.

  Yup. We were a sorry bunch and frankly, professionals or not, the heavy state of unbridled why are we here again wasn’t endearing me to the idea of diving in these conditions.

  Made worse as I peeked over the edge of the dock into the water at the murkiness that sloshed back. Which meant the typically clear water would be less than ideal when it came to visibility, making what we were about to attempt all the harder.

  Naturally.

  Okay, Fiona Fleming, shake off the miasma of dejected loserdom or go the hell home already.

  Whitecaps in the distance reminded me of Darius’s seasickness even as the hulking bruiser paused behind me, bending to tap me on the shoulder. I turned to look up at him, knowing by the unhappy expression on his face I wasn’t going to like what he was about to say.

  “I don’t want you to dive today.” He sounded like just lettin
g the words out hurt him. And winced when he was done. I had a flash of realization when he did and almost laughed, despite myself.

  Was he scared of how I’d react? Did I really make that big of an impact on him back at the Fleming Investigations office? Or was the bodyguard actually worried about what I thought of him?

  Honestly, that second question was so odd to me it had to be the first despite the fact there was no way someone like him was afraid of someone like me. Then again, we’d been kind of co-conspirators about Malcolm for years now, his lurking presence a constant when it came to my Irish mob godfather. Did Darius like me?

  No, not like me, like me. But think of me as a friend as much as a job? Did he really want me to like him back?

  I reached out on impulse while Crew joined the dive team, squeezing his hand as I had my husband’s, managing a smile. “I’ll be okay,” I said.

  Darius swallowed, glanced at the water, looked queasy a moment, then swallowed again. “I can’t go with you.” There was almost a wail in the back of his voice. Had this morning’s altercation between Crew and Geoffrey added to Darius’s concerns? He’d said it was his fault. Was he blaming himself?

  I could have just asked him. Instead, I squeezed one more time and let him go. “I’m with professionals,” I said, regurgitating Crew’s answer. “I’m trained for what I need to do. I’ll stay in shallow water. Trust me, Darius. And trust Crew. He’d never put me in harm’s way and you know it.”

  The bodyguard nodded slowly, though he still looked wretchedly doubtful. “I’m supposed to protect you at all costs.” So soft, that tenor voice. “Miss. Fleming?” I waited with arched eyebrows in response to that hesitant use of my name as a question until he sighed and shook his head, tension leaving him. “You are the worst assignment I’ve ever had.” And then, he laughed, a big, loud guffaw of releasing stress that triggered my own funny bone.

  “I know,” I said around a giggle. “I’m sorry, Darius. I really suck at behaving and not putting myself in danger and listening and all that important stuff.”

  His laughter died but not his good humor and, when he softly patted my shoulder, there was enough affection on his face I knew I’d made the right assumption. He really did like me. Imagine that.

  “Just come back in one piece,” he said. “Mr. Murray will never forgive me.” And Malcolm Murry would likely follow through on “never forgive me” with “never find the body” so fair enough. Though Darius seemed less concerned about his own safety if something happened to me than the actual risk I might come to harm.

  How sweet was that?

  I left him to his ineffectual observation, unhappiness showing in flickers of glances over the choppy water of the lake, as I entered the dive shack to suit up.

  “Not that one,” Chantal snapped at Anja. “The other one.”

  “Then get it yourself,” the tall brunette bit back. “I’m not your servant.”

  “Temper, ladies.” Gregg’s grin and amusement wasn’t helping as he zipped himself into a full wetsuit, Martin already dressed and ready, checking out his camera equipment and keeping clear of the growing tension.

  “Mind your own business,” Chantal shot back before throwing a wetsuit at MC. “That’s the 3mm.”

  The icy waters of the lake would require much thicker suits. I wasn’t going past thirty feet and was totally wimping out wearing 7mm. MC’s face darkened as she threw the suit back.

  “Wear both,” she said, turning away while both Chantal and Anja made rude faces at her. “And hurry up. We’re already behind and I want to get two dives in today.”

  The rest of our prep went about the same, the surly team butting heads while Gregg just seemed to derive amusement from the clash of personalities and his camera man practically hid behind his boss. I couldn’t help but glare at the treasure hunter, Blackstone’s giant gold B logo in my mind’s eye. It might as well have been tattooed on his forehead at this point. I was more and more certain—proof? Who needs proof?—that we had a bigger snake in our midst than we’d first thought.

  I was about to say something to Crew when he jerked MC aside, stopping me from interrupting.

  “Get the team under control,” he said, low and commanding, “or I’m pulling the plug.”

  Her sullen expression leveled out but she didn’t apologize. “It’s nerves,” she said. “It’ll pass. Let’s get to the boat.”

  I quickly got out of Chantal’s way as she heaved on the handles of the wheelbarrow, loaded with tanks, pushing past me without a glance, trundling toward the boat, I stood back and let Gregg go next refusing to be baited by that smirk of his and mostly succeeding. At least, I didn’t smack him as he passed me, so that was a win, right?

  Crew and MC were already gone and I headed after them, only to realize I’d forgotten my regulator. Because diving without the means to breathe was brilliant, Fee. I sighed at myself, wondering if this boded badly or well, and turned back to the shack and my missing equipment.

  The door was partially ajar, enough I caught sight of the fight before I heard it, and paused, heart in my throat, while Anja, entire body shaking with clear rage, hissed something in Martin’s face. He looked distinctly distraught, as if she’d broken his heart, before she turned and stomped out of the shed, ignoring me, bangs hanging over the thunderclouds in her eyes.

  The documentarian didn’t say anything to me either, keeping his head down and hurrying by, camera clutched to his narrow chest. I took a moment to sink to the bench and rest my face in my hands, heart pounding painfully, worried all over again.

  This was a terrible idea.

  That’s why I cancelled the dive, right? Why I marched up to MC and Gregg and told them in no uncertain terms we weren’t going underwater today or any day, not together, not like this.

  Exactly.

  Snort.

  My retrieved regulator in my hands and my sense of self-preservation badly askew, I headed for the boat and our first dive of the day.

  Please, let it not be my last.

  Thing was, it turned out MC was right, at least to a point. The moment the boat was loaded, Wanda at the helm taking us to the first location, the team had settled into a quiet stillness, looking outward across the water, the rough ride forcing all of us to hang on. Their chatter turned from snarky jibes to the low-level hum of experienced divers ready for the job ahead. Even Gregg’s smirk disappeared as he double-checked the gauge on his tanks. I ran through my own list of things to do I’d been practicing in my head since I finished my first open dive, feeling the repetition of the process calm and collect me.

  By the time we reached the first dive site about five minutes later, I was actually bordering on optimistic no one was going to die today.

  ***

  Chapter Twelve

  Freezing lake water was still freezing, no matter how thick the dive suit. I caught myself shivering as I peered through the gloom surrounding me, spotting Anja a few feet away where she gracefully explored the area we’d been assigned, looking more like she belonged underwater than anyone should.

  Me? Yeah, no mermaid-like elegance here. I’m sure I was much more floundering fish-out-of-water. I still struggled a bit to control my fins and the work it took to turn, not to mention the silt thickening the water’s view to the point I was squinting despite myself. It wasn’t helping me see or anything, just a reaction to the reduced visibility caused by the storm. All-in-all, not the best dive I’d ever had.

  Right. Because I had a huge list to compare to.

  Anja turned to me, shot me an OK symbol with her thumb and index finger and I had to fight the urge to give her a thumbs up in return. I’d learned quickly that meant I needed to go to the surface, but I was still trying to imprint all the hand signals in my brain. It took me a stuttering moment for my chilled mind to return the message and, when I did, she nodded and continued on.

  The cold seeped into my bones, swimming helping a little but my mind—that ever-vigilant and obsessive controller of all thin
gs Fiona Fleming—whispered about hypothermia while I argued with it we were fine, thank you very much, and shut up already. This was supposed to be fun, not a lesson in oh my god I’m going to die, why didn’t I listen to Darius, this is the stupidest thing I’ve ever done, and if I make it back to land I’ll never dive again.

  Okay, a bit over-the-top and I wasn’t that close to panic, but the novelty was wearing off and I was over it.

  At least we were in shallow water. I couldn’t imagine the added difficulties of diving to the depths the others had taken on. Though, Crew assured me it was likely the water was clearer deeper beneath the surface, where the storm would have been unable to stir up the lake bed. I’d watched the boat carry off the other two teams as Anja and I went under, Chantal and MC heading for an area near Black Mountain and the mouth of the Minute River while Crew and Gregg—Martin and his camera along for the ride—had a spot closer to the center of the lake to look into.

  Ten minutes later, according to my dive watch, and Anja signaled for us to surface. I exhaled my relief as we slowly rose, forcing myself to relax and breathe normally while my body ejected the excess nitrogen that had built up in my blood, the slow ascent carrying us up the line to the buoy left for us as our target. As we surfaced next to it, the boat was just returning, Wanda piloting it carefully to a stop a few feet clear of us and helped us board.

  “Nothing?” She shrugged her broad shoulders and didn’t seem surprised. “Maybe the others had better luck.”