Riptide (23 page)

Nick shook his head.

“What?”

“It happened four hundred years ago, in time of war.”

Bria shrugged, giving her fins a little flip that stirred up some of the sediment. “Right. Well I’m sure the families must’ve been relieved to get news. Even if it was bad news.”

“Right,” Nick said dryly.

She reached over and punched his arm. “Cynic.” Bria glanced around, clearly fascinated by the myriad species of fish swimming lazily about. They didn’t seem concerned that they had humans on their home turf.

“There are the guys,” Bria pointed. Burke and Olav were shadowy figures filling their baskets fifty feet away. “Before we head back up, can I see what they found?”

“Sure. Everything is pretty close to the wreck. There isn’t a big debris field because the ships were so close together, and sank fast. They broke up on the way down. Hitting the seabed did the rest.” Nick dived down five feet, and shot back to her side after picking up something from the sand. He handed it to her. “Here.”

As she clearly had no idea what she was holding, Nick thought it intriguing that she looked as happy with a gnarly chunk of conglomerate-covered coins as she would if he’d handed her the multimillion-dollar jeweled sword in his safe.

“Coral?” She ran her fingers lightly over the gray clump, then lifted her shining eyes to his. Nick felt the weight of that happy look like a blow to his chest. Christ. How could she be anything other than what she professed to be? There didn’t seem to be a deceptive bone in her body. Which was illogical. Everybody had something to hide. And everybody lied through their teeth if it was in their own best self-interest.

She could be excited by the novelty of it all.

Or she could be calculating the value of the salvage and her brother’s investment.

“Coins,” he said. “Hand-hewn, individually struck coins like these were once the most converted and widely traded money on earth.” And in the
Scorpion
’s hold were several hundred thousand more exactly like them.

Nick kept her by his side as he swam the length of the
El Puerto.
Paraphrasing, he pointed out things he thought might interest her, and enjoyed her enjoyment of something he loved to do. He saw everything through Bria’s eyes, and was himself seeing everything with fresh eyes.

A yellow grouper darted right in front of them, and his hand shot out as, startled by the sudden movement, she jumped back. The fish slipped out of sight behind the shattered remains of the forecastle, and three stingrays cruised by, unconcerned.

“What’s he putting in his basket?” She pointed at Olav, hard to see at this distance. “More coins?” she asked eagerly.

Nick knew which section of the grid they were working in, so he knew what they had. “Silver bars.” He swam closer, Bria at his side. “They weigh a hundred pounds apiece. They’ve been in a wood crate, but the crate was eaten away by toledo worms. The bars maintained the shape of the box they were being transported in.”

The two men continued working and Nick described what they were doing, until Bria seemed to be losing interest. He touched her arm and headed back to the wrecks.

“Is there gold as well?”

“A ton of it,” And that wasn’t just the expression. Nick had researched the little-known ship well. It had taken a lot of doing because there was so little written about it. But his gut hadn’t steered him wrong. The Spanish ship was described in the obscure records as being filled with gold from the New World, and he and his team hadn’t been disappointed. “We know the ship was in Potosi because of the reals we found scattered all over. They have the identifying full cross with lions and castle visible.” A hundred and forty million dollars’ worth at a rough estimate.

From the stern to forward section, shoals of emerald green parrot fish congregated over the Portuguese wreck then rose with Nick and Bria as they headed back to the
El Puerto
.

Nick circled the Spanish galleon, pointing out things he thought would interest her, then indicated it was time to surface.

“Ten more minutes?” Bria asked, like a child begging to stay up after bedtime.

“Sure, I’ll show you where they stored the
bomba
.” Nick wished to hell he hadn’t thought of that analogy as they did another circuit of the wreck. Because now all he could think about was a kid with Bria’s smile and his eyes.

*   *   *

Nick ran a towel over his chest and watched the guys fawning over Bria. God, she was damn sweet. Physically, she was everything he was attracted to, and then some. But her physical attributes, as spectacular as they were, and as many as there were, were not what had him in a twist.

Her awe and excitement were contagious, and he’d enjoyed the dive more because of her reaction. She was so excited about what they had seen, so proud of the small cluster of conglomerated coin she’d refused to let go of all the way back to the surface.

Tossing the damp towel on his chair, he picked up his watch from the table, strapping it on while he watched Bria laugh with his team. He picked up the Bluetooth he was never without unless he was underwater. Or engaged in wild bouts of lovemaking. His lips twitched. Damn, she was …

Hooking the device in his ear, he was surprised when it immediately beeped. Not Aries. He touched his earpiece to activate it. “Your chickenshit surveillance camera’s working suddenly?” he teased Jonah.

He.
Teased
. Jesus. It was a new him.

“Where’s Bria?”

Eyes instantly searching the area for danger, Nick straightened. “Ten feet in front of me, we just surfaced from a dive. Why?”

“Secure her in your cabin.” His captain’s voice was grim, and urgent. So much so that Nick grabbed the loose shirt he’d worn early to conceal the Sig Sauer and was already walking toward Bria, the weapon in his hand, hidden under the drape of the shirt over his forearm.

He scanned the area again, a slow, intense sweep. Port to starboard. Back again. “Talk to me.”

Bria, Miles, Mikhail, Stan—laughing, sunlight sharply sparkling on calm water. The dive platform, crowded with plastic tubs waiting to be taken down to the hold for transportation to Cutter Cay—

Everything looked normal. But shit! Jonah’s tone set off warning alarms and suddenly it didn’t
feel
normal.

“Come to the forward hold,” Jonah said in his ear, his tone serious. He hung up.

Bria was many things, but obtuse she wasn’t. The moment Nick called out to her and she looked at him, she ran across the dive platform. He met her at the top of the ladder, taking her hand to haul her up beside him. He handed her a towel as they walked. Fast.

“What’s happened?”

“I don’t know. But Jonah needs me, and I want you locked in our cabin until I know what the hell’s going on.”

“Okay.” She slipped her cool hand into his. “Let’s go.”

As soon as they were in his office, Nick opened the safe and removed a Bersa. He handed it to Bria. “Do you really know how to use this?”

She hefted it in her palm. “Yes.”

“Keep it with you until you leave this ship.” He took the time to hand her two more clips from the safe and made sure she hadn’t been BSing him about knowing how to use it as he made her load it while he watched.

“I don’t give a shit who wants in.” He pulled his shirt on and tucked the Sig in back of his waistband. “Me or Jonah. That’s it. I don’t give a fuck if the ship’s on fire or blood is pouring under the door. You stay in here until one of us comes for you. Got it?”

“Yes, sir.” She spread her fingers on his chest and gave him a little shove. “I’ll be fine. Be careful. Go!”

Nick went. He took the stairs at a flat-out run, and within minutes was at the only closed hatch in the hold. He rapped. “Jonah? Nick.”

The door was yanked open. Jonah, a Beretta in his hand, looked grim, and Nick’s adrenaline spiked even further. He took in the neat stacks of seawater-filled plastic tubs lining the walls and forming a center island four-deep. In three carefully marked containers were the blood diamonds, submerged beside a fortune in gold coin.

Shit!
“Someone got the diamonds?” It was all he could think of. If so, they were still somewhere on the ship. Other than Bria, nobody had come or gone in days. For a nanosecond, he considered that the diamonds could’ve been passed from someone to Bria, and Bria to the helicopter pilot, who had left in an all-fired hurry …

A left-field possibility, but his gut told him that hadn’t been the case.

“No. I checked, which was how— Come this way.” Jonah led the way through the passageways between the bins.

Nick smelled death before he saw it. “Oh, Christ. Who is it?”

“Fakhir. Hired on as cook’s helper in Tarfaya two days before we sailed.”

“I’m not even going to hazard a thought that it was natural causes? Yeah.” At his friend’s dark look, Nick shook his head. “Thought not. What the hell was he doing down here? The only people who know the bin numbers are the two of us and the Moroccans.”

He and Jonah had agreed that the fewer people who knew the exact location of the stones, the better. There were perhaps a thousand containers on board. Finding the ones containing the diamonds would be like looking for a needle in a haystack.

The Moroccans’ plan was to give that information to their men on board …
When we reach Cutter Cay,
he thought. It was too soon!

The stench got worse as they walked through the maze of containers, stacked neatly almost to the ceiling in places.

“He’s right over here.” Jonah had to jump over the man’s sprawled legs to get on the other side, clearing space so that Nick could see him.

“Christ.” Fakhir was half sitting, half sprawled, legs extended on the floor, death-glazed eyes wide open. His white T-shirt and shorts were saturated with dark, partially dried blood.

His throat had been slashed from ear to ear by something very, very sharp.

“Alfonso keeps his kitchen knives sharp, but not
this
sharp.”

Fakhir’s throat had been cut clear through to his spine.

Grisly. Gruesome.

Fucking unacceptable.

Nick looked around. Within two feet of the dead cook’s helper was bin number 579 C. Containing diamonds.

“Agreed,” Jonah said, his voice edged with anger. “Looks surgical. I searched around while I was waiting for you, didn’t find the weapon. Fortunately, we keep this area spit-polished and old-maid neat, otherwise it’d take us a year.”

“I hate to break it to you, pal,” Nick told him grimly. “But it
will
take a year. The weapon could be in any one of these bins, and until we dump everything out, we’ll never find it.” Three months of hard work? Not going to happen. At least not right now.

“Good point.” Jonah pointed to bin number 579 C.

Nick nodded. “I noticed. And it’s no coincidence. Secure this section of the hold. Nobody in or out until we can contact Aries and see how they want to play it.”

“What about Fakhir?”

Nick glanced at the body. “Aries will have to get his ass here and take care of this.” Anger flickered through him. Raw. Savage. “I sure as shit don’t want a killer on board any more than I want a corpse stinking up the place. This second murder is a game changer. I won’t tolerate any of our crew being harmed. Fuck Aries’s request—”

“Order,”
Jonah muttered tightly.

Nick sliced a hand through the air, as if he could wipe the whole fucking mess away. “Fuck his
order
for radio silence. Get him on the horn. I’m done with this crap. He and his people are going to have to get their asses here ASAP and clean up their own mess. Let’s get this guy somewhere where no one will trip over him until then.”

Jonah raised a dark brow. “A friend will help you hide a body?”

Nick eyed the man who knew him as well as his brothers. The man he trusted with his life. His secrets. “That sums it up for now. Problem?”

“None.”

“There’s that old walk-in refrigerator next door with all the crap we need to get rid of. You were right. It
will
come in handy. We can put him in there, until Aries and his team come and get him.”

Jonah blanched. “That thing barely works, which is why we stuck it down here.”

“Yeah, well, I don’t think he’s going to mind if the temperature isn’t consistent,” Nick observed dryly. “Stay put, I’ll go turn it on and make sure no one else is around.”

Nick slipped out, gun in hand. If anyone came down here for any reason, he’d think about explanations then. Request or order, he had to get Bria off the
Scorpion
.

Now. Right fucking now.

He didn’t like not knowing what was happening on his own ship, and he didn’t like dead people popping up unexpectedly. All he knew was it would be impossible for him to concentrate on finding answers when his brain was fogged with thoughts of sex with the very mind-blowingly hot princess. Or worry that she’d be next.

The thought of her death made Nick sick to his stomach.

Now he wanted her off his ship even more than he had before.

Stalking at a fast clip down the corridor toward the storeroom, he thought it through calmly and rationally. He’d personally fly her to Tenerife and put her on a plane back to Sacramento. She’d start her new job, be safe, and forget him.

Except that this house of cards had started falling when Halkias tried to kill
her
. Nick wondered—had Halkias’s murderer done in the cook’s helper too? Or was there yet another plot twining beneath his feet?

Bottom line? His instincts told him to get Bria off the
Scorpion
while a killer ran amuck. But if he sent her flying across the world alone, what if she
had
been the target? What if someone followed her back to California? Who would protect her then?

Halkias could’ve had the hots for her—and rapists weren’t necessarily murderers. He ground his back teeth together in frustration. It was all moot with Halkias dead. So far they had neither motive, nor suspects. Was Fakir one of the men who’d tossed Halkias overboard? Or was he yet another victim? Had the same person who killed Halkias killed Fakhir?