MoonRush (5 page)

* * *

The bridge was a whirling mass of chaos. Brandi couldn’t seem to find a place where she wasn’t in the way. The crew passing gear back and forth, strapping on tanks, and calibrating instruments was some sort of foreign dance, and she didn’t know the right steps.

It just didn’t make any sense to her. The team was just so…strange.
They
had the button-down
Hindu
scholar… nothing figurative about that description. He was wearing a
suit
, for crying out loud. Who did that on a boat? Brandi had the sudden mental image of what he would look like with an orange flotation vest strapped over his jacket. She did her best not to choke as she stifled a laugh.

Then there was the uptight marine biologist. First off, what was a marine biologist doing out here hunting for treasure? Shouldn’t she be teaching at a university or working at SeaWorld or something? Second, did she have to be such a…well…Brandi’s sense of female solidarity wouldn’t quite let her finish that particular thought.

And then there was the kid. Brandi wasn’t positive, but weren’t they breaking all kinds of laws by not having him in some kind of school?

She watched the youth push back from the console. For the first time, Brandi realized
that
the youth had no
legs
. Or at least not flesh-and-bone limbs. Instead, titanium prosthetic legs jutted out from his hips. She gawped, trying to process the sight.

But the boy just casually leaned over the desk
,
reaching for what she had assumed were instruments. However, those “instruments” he reached for were his “feet.” Or, more accurately
,
“flippers.” She squawked in
a
strange combination of horror and fascination.

“Wha…Wha…How?” Brandi stuttered like she had in grade school.

Most of the crew stopped their rushed preparations and stared at Brandi.

Rob, however,
just
asked, “Buton, hand me my flippers?”

As the Indian scientist complied, he nodded toward the teenager. “Rob did not exaggerate his intimate knowledge of a feeding frenzy.”

“You? You’re …” Brandi stammered at the teen. “You’re not going
with
them?”

Rob looked up through mussed hair
,
a smirk painting his face. “Hell, yeah!”

Brandi pivoted wildly around the room, seeking a sympathetic face. She somehow landed on Jarod. “You’re not going to let him, are you?”

“Hell, yeah!” Jarod’s response was a perfect imitation of the teenager’s. “He’s small, and makes fast movements.” He tousled Rob’s hair. “Perfect shark bait.”

The two chuckled, seeming to enjoy Brandi’s discomfort. This was insanity. Was she missing something?

The mocha-skinned biologist tapped Jarod on the shoulder. She jerked her head out toward the deck. “Could I speak
with
you for a second?”

Finally,
someone
on this ship was showing some sense. Brandi forced her breathing to slow and
the wrinkles in
her forehead to
uncrease
. She would probably
have to retouch her makeup now.

* * *

Jarod’s jaw clenched in irritation as Cleo accompanied him on deck. She swiveled around, not waiting to launch in.

“You promised me that—”

Jarod was ready for this one, though. It was long in coming.

“The kid
wants
to go, Cleo.”

Couldn’t she see how important this was to Rob? He needed to face his fears and finish his dad’s work. This was about being a man. And Cleo seemed determined to keep that from happening.

“He’s only fourteen!”

“Okay, Cleo, he may be fourteen, but you and I both know that he’s not
really
fourteen. Not since…” Jarod’s voice broke until he steadied it. “And he really wants to go down.”

Cleo’s voice softened, pleading. “Jarod, it’s not what Rob wants or doesn’t want
.
I
t’s about what’s best for him.”

“I’m not his father, and I don’t pretend to be.”

“If not you, then
who
?”

Jarod’s cheeks billowed in and out. A thousand retorts rose to his lips and then fell away, sounding hollow.

Cleo smile
d awkwardly. He was sure that
s
he meant
it
to be reassuring
.
“Jarod, you’re his uncle. You have to—”

C
lumping behind them cut off Cleo’s argument. Rob exited the bridge, flippers now attached to the ends of his prosthetic legs. Jarod glanced away from the reminder of his failure. But determination radiated from the teen like waves of heat off hot asphalt. Rob looked so much like his dad when he was in this mood.

“Sorry, Cleo, but this whole ‘mom’ look just isn’t working for you this season.”

Cleo stiffened. “Rob, I’m not trying—”

“I liked you better when you were shooting for that ‘I’m Dad’s cool girlfriend’ vibe,” Rob sniped.

“You can’t see it, but you’re still so young, and—”

“You know what?” Rob yelled. “Why don’t you just go below deck, smoke some weed, and leave
my
life decisions to
me
?”

“Rob!” Jarod barked. Some rules even Jarod enforced. Rob met his gaze, still defiant. Jarod, no stranger to a good glare, didn’t flinch. The two stood locked in a battle of wills. But there were some things this boy who wished to be a man had yet to learn. Finally, his nephew let out a long breath and dropped his gaze.

Cleo stepped into the charged silence, her tone hesitant. “I’m not saying that I was, or am, perfect. Those days were before…”

Rob’s voice lowered, but
it was
no less challenging. He turned his stare on Cleo. “Look, my dad, my
real
parent
,
wouldn’t have blinked an eye at me going back down there.”

Cleo looked at Jarod with an eyebrow raised, obviously looking for support. When she didn’t find
it
, she continued, “The fact that Chuck’s not with us today shows that his judgment was more than a little impaired when it came to this site.”

Rob’s face hardened. He glanced at Jarod.
Why did everyone keep looking at him, for?
Jarod wondered.

“You going to let her talk about him like that?” Rob demanded.

Jarod tried to soothe Rob’s fury. It wasn’t that he didn’t agree with the kid, but it was more complicated than that.

“Rob, Cleo is just trying—”

Rob’s voice dropped to a furious hiss. “This was Dad’s baby.
His
find.”

Jarod wavered, feeling ripped down the midline.

Rob appeared to lose patience with him and whipped back to Cleo. “You’re seriously going to try to keep me from finishing Dad’s work?” He glared back at Jarod for one more twist in the gut. “Why is she even in this discussion? She’s not even
family.”

Cleo bristled at the dig, but somehow
she
managed to keep her tone level, doing a far better job than Jarod.

“Because
I’m
the only one who seems
to be
concerned that three dozen sharks are within a league. And with the aftershocks to agitate them…”

Her eyes begged Jarod to agree with her. But he couldn’t. Not completely. “All true, but
you
are going back down, aren’t you?”

“That’s different,” she mumbled, suddenly not on the offensive.

“How?” Jarod challenged. “
I’m
definitely going back.” She opened her mouth to reply, but he overrode her. “I’m sorry, but he’s got a point, Cleo. If we are both willing to risk our lives, and yes…limbs…” He saw Cleo squint. Okay, so maybe that was a low blow. He continued, “then why shouldn’t he?”

“But—”

Jarod turned to his nephew. “Rob, do you promise to come back up with all your remaining body parts?” From Rob’s vigorous nod, Jarod said
,
“Then it’s settled,” more to Cleo than to Rob. “He’s coming.”

All the tension and anger drained out of his nephew’s face. He pumped his arm up and down, an excited kid once more.

“
Yes!
I’ll get my gear!”

* * *

Brandi stepped onto the deck, visions of Jarod’s bare chest dancing in her head. She had come up with the perfect reason to get a bit more of his attention before he headed back down.

As she rounded the bulwarks, she heard voices. Before it registered that she was intruding on a fight, she was in it. Time to be anywhere else but here. She tried to backtrack, but two sets of eyes were glued to her. Too late.

“Sorry. I’ll come back later,” she murmured.

“No worries.” Jarod’s grin would charm a cobra. “We were done.”

Looking at Cleo’s grim face, Brandi wasn’t so sure about that. The last thing she wanted was to step into some kind of int
ra
-crew squabble. Her carefully constructed pirate fantasy would have trouble holding up to some weird family-type infighting. Pirates didn’t argue
—
they swashbuckled.

But the biologist seemed unwilling to continue the fight with an audience. She gave a curt nod and stalked away. Brandi couldn’t quite feel bad about that. Once alone with the treasure hunter, she gave a coy smile and delivered the excuse for some additional Jarod time she’d been practicing in her head.

“I’d like to get a little more footage.” There. That sounded totally plausible.

Somehow, Jarod didn’t appear to be fooled. “Sure, you did.”

His grin turned into a smirk. A very pirate-like smirk. The warmth already present inside her blossomed into an almost volcanic heat. She squirmed with a mixture of discomfort and something a little more pleasant.

“No…no. I meant for a follow-up piece,” she stammered.

When did it get so hot? Jarod’s eyes bored right into the place where the heat generated
from
, ratcheting it up a few more notches. “Sure, you did.”