Riptide (3 page)

She wasn’t used to being called Princess. And she sure as hell wasn’t used to a man using that tone of voice when he spoke to her. She’d done nothing to earn his—what? Contempt? Scorn? Bria had no idea what lay behind his inscrutable expression. But she didn’t like it.

She waited until the other guy left the room. She heard his footfalls just fine, and her own as she tap-tap-tapped a few steps closer, hand extended. “English is fine, and call me Bria, please.”

His fingers, cool and still damp from his swim, closed over hers in a polite and brief handshake. Firm. Decisive. No lingering.

Her heart jolted in surprise. One look at his polite expression told Bria he clearly didn’t feel the sharp spike of electricity that she’d experienced when skin touched skin. Goose bumps rose on her arms. She took a small step back. A tactical retreat.

Fine. Cutter clearly wasn’t impressed, or charmed, or blinded by lust seeing her bare, red-polished toes in high heels. So be it. Bria’s tone changed slightly. “If you know who I am, then you know why I’m here.”

“If you’d sent word you wanted to observe the dive, I would’ve made arrangements for an overnight stay. Unfortunately, with a full crew, and a large dive team, that won’t be possible at this time.”

Dismissed. Again. Before she’d even made her pitch. This was getting old, fast. “I’m not here to observe you dive, Mr. Cutter,” she said with asperity. “Nor do I have the intention of spending any more time on board your ship than necessary.”

She indicated the waiting helicopter outside the window behind her. “I’m here for a refund.”

He gave her a bland look. “A refund?”

Bria felt her cheeks burn as her temper rose. Her temper was her Achilles’ heel, and she’d spent most of her life learning to control it. For seven short years she’d been a pampered princess in a fairytale land. Then she’d been ripped from everyone, everything she loved, and plunged into a terrifying nightmare that had changed her life forever. She’d learned to modulate her temper over the years. And because she considered it one of her worst faults, she did everything she could not to lose it. She should take lessons in self-control from Nick Cutter.

She’d faced far worse than a man telling her no. No matter what his tone. She gave him a cool smile, even though she had a creepy sensation that those piercing blue eyes saw everything she was. And everything she wasn’t. “My brother made a foolish investment. Before he throws good money after bad, I want the money he gave you returned to the country.”

Nick Cutter leaned his hip against the back of a white canvas sofa. His eyes moved over her, a bland inspection that gave nothing of what he was thinking away. “You’re the king’s business partner?”

Not partner, nor confidante. Barely even sister, as distant as she felt from him. Her cousin, Antonio, had had to tell her of Draven’s latest foolishness. “My brother made an error in judgment,” was all she said. One of many since he’d ascended to the Marrezo throne two years ago.

Bria ignored the familiar fluttery sensation of panic in her stomach. How she felt about her brother’s lack of financial sense was none of Nick Cutter’s business. “I’ve come to rectify his lapse.”

“Have you, indeed?” He pushed off the sofa back, one dark brow arched. “Let’s go belowdecks and discuss this in my office.”

Said the spider to the fly. She’d rather stay right where she was, sunlight streaming into the spacious room, the helicopter—her only means of transportation and already paid for round-trip—right where she could see it. “I’d pref—”

“I’m sure you’d like to freshen up before you head back to Las Palmas,” he said over her, autocratic as hell. “Wash up, have a cup of coffee, resolve this, and be on your way?”

She didn’t like taking orders. She didn’t enjoy being told what she’d like to do by the man who’d accepted five million dollars from the Kingdom of Marrezo’s coffers when he clearly didn’t need it. No matter how hot he was.

Bria didn’t get her reaction to him. She enjoyed guys. A lot. She liked their big hands, and big feet, and everything in between. She liked their tougher skin, and the smell of their cologne. She liked a nice tight butt as well as the next woman. She liked to lightly flirt, it made her feel like a woman. She liked men. Men liked her.

Nick Cold-as-Ice Cutter didn’t like her. And he annoyed the hell out of her.

A situation she didn’t appreciate.

Still, there was no need to be annoyed much longer, and an enormous sense of relief washed over her at his words. He was going to give her Draven’s money back. Thank God.

And even though she would’ve preferred ironing it all out here and now, now that he mentioned it, she remembered that she needed the restroom. Another lengthy trip in the helicopter without a pit stop would be impossible. She settled her tote on her shoulder. “Very well.”

Nick picked up the phone on a nearby table that also displayed a very phallic-looking statue in Carrera marble, an intricate bas-relief gold box, and a square glass vase filled with vivid red flowers. The only splash of color in the room other than Cutter’s disconcerting eyes.

He asked that Khoi come to the sundeck, then put down the phone to address her again. “My steward will show you where you can freshen up, then escort you to my office. Take your time.”

“I—”

Cutter didn’t wait to see what she had to say. He gave her a piercing look that made her heart pound in annoyance, then he strolled out of the room, giving her a tantalizing look at his long, tanned bare back, and tight-neoprene-covered butt.

Bria didn’t have time for lingering nor admiring. Not only did she have a helicopter waiting, she had to get her country’s money back where it belonged within thirty days, or the bank would own the principality of Marrezo, and the small country that used to be her home would revert to Italy. In addition, she had a new job to report to the following week. Taking her time was a luxury she couldn’t afford. “I’ve also got important things to do and places to go,” she told the empty room.

She planned to speed pee, locate Cutter’s office, accept a check, and be on her way back to Las Palmas within the next twenty minutes. She’d stop in Marrezo and give her cousin the money to bail out Draven’s coffers. Then she’d wing her way back to Sacramento and the prospect of a fabulous job, happy as a clam to be away from the mess her brother had created. Hopefully her cousin Antonio could manage to rein Draven in so he didn’t get involved with any more wild-hair-get-rich-quick schemes.

Treasure hunting! God, where had her brother come up with such a crazy idea?

The only person making money from her brother’s reckless “investment” was Nick Cutter.

Chapter 2

“What the hell does it matter what she looks like?” Nick asked, mildly annoyed by the question from his friend, and not sure why. He’d grabbed a quick shower and changed into jeans, a T-shirt, and as usual, he was barefoot. “As the only woman on board, no matter how short the duration, she’s inherently a problem. And one we don’t need, especially now.”

And whatever she really wanted, she’d come loaded for bear in that little nothing of a red dress. And Jesus, her legs went on for-fucking-ever. He’d told her no, and she’d looked at him with doe-like, big, brown, fuck-you eyes that promised, “I
always
get what I want, you might as well roll over now.”

Jonah Santiago, the
Scorpion
’s captain and Nick’s closest friend after his two brothers, had been involved with every aspect of this voyage. Up to and including what was going to be going along with Nick’s favor to some friends in dangerous places.

Nick rose to close the wood-framed window behind his desk so their conversation couldn’t be overheard. Then paused for a moment to enjoy the sound of the waves lapping at the hull, and the drone of the blower as his dive team expanded a new area of the wreck site. Window latched, he sat on the corner of his desk to collect his thoughts. Exquisitely carved from the timbers of a sunken British barque-rigged ship, the desk took up a large portion of the floor space in his office.

“I don’t miss your hairy face at all,” Jonah said mildly, leaning back and locking his hands behind his head as he gave his friend the once-over. He was wearing long white pants and a short-sleeved white shirt with his navy-and-gold-striped captain epaulets on the shoulders.

“Trust me, I was happy to see it go. My lack of grooming wasn’t what I wanted to talk to you about, however.”

“Right. Just out of curiosity,” Jonah rocked back on two legs of his chair. “Are you pissed she showed up here now?” He was tall, broad-shouldered and dark-eyed, with windblown dark hair that always needed a trim. Neatly dressed in crew whites, Jonah could do with a shave himself.

“Hell yes.”

Jonah’s eyes danced, but he wasn’t stupid enough to smile. “Maybe even a little intrigued?”

God, yes. But that had nothing to do with the who and why of what the princess was doing on his ship, and everything to do with the sexual energy coming off the maddening woman in pulsing waves. “No.”

Jonah grinned. “Oh, good. I was afraid I was losing the ability to read your inscrutable expression. Her presence certainly makes the game more interesting,” he threw out as the chair dropped back to all fours. He slouched in the rich brown cordovan leather chair, legs stretched out so that if Nick wanted to move about he’d have to detour around Jonah’s big feet.

Nick rarely wanted to move about unless he was diving. Or having sex. He focused his mind on the former as best he could, since thinking about the princess
and
sex simultaneously was dangerous to his mental health.

Her skin was olive, fine-grained. Looked silky. All over? Yeah, he’d bet the treasure of
El Puerto,
two hundred feet down, that she felt and tasted as good as she looked. He wasn’t sure he could ever look at a ripe peach again without imagining Princess Gabriella Visconti.

Damned
annoying.

“Having millions of dollars’ worth of smuggled conflict diamonds on board is excitement enough, don’t you think?”

“Nah,” Jonah smiled slightly, waving a fortune in diamonds aside. “Those stones might as well be ballast. The exciting part comes when the good guys arrest the bad guys, and the diamonds are confiscated. And that won’t be for at least a month-ish. Pretty boring until then.”

“What’s your point?” Nick demanded.

Jonah grinned. “Your princess is here now.”

“She’s not
my
princess,” he countered immediately, but the thought had merit. She could be his— No way. Trouble like that would cost more than the dive’s payout. “And she’ll be leaving within the hour.” Nick picked up the centuries-old ornately filigreed gold box studded with precious stones they’d salvaged on day one of the most recent dive, turning it end over end in his palm. His version of pacing.

She used those long, luscious legs of hers to pace, to stride, to strut. Her long strides ate at distances as though her environment was too small for her. No matter where she went, no matter who she was with, she’d fill any space she was occupying to capacity with her beauty. With her personality. With her jaw-dropping sensuality.

Nick liked things more subtle. Over the top wasn’t his way. Low key was. Which was why his brothers called him Spock. His expression rarely gave the game away. Jonah frequently teased that he was too buttoned up, that one day he was going to blow.

He didn’t know Nick quite as well as he thought. Nick’s emotions weren’t buttoned up; they were stapled, screwed down, and then hermetically sealed. Just the way he liked it.

“Are you just going to sit there and brood?” Jonah asked after several minutes of silence. His tone casual, but, damn him, filled with laughter. “Or do you have something to share? Because even though we’re anchored, and much as I enjoy watching you stew over a beautiful woman, I have better things to do.”

“I’m thinking,” Nick picked up a pen and doodled on the notepad, just to give himself time to think the princess through. “Give me a minute.” As Asim Nabi El Malamah, he’d negotiated an outrageous price to bring the blood diamonds on board and secrete them away. The plan was for the diamonds to stay put until the
Scorpion
docked at Cutter Cay in three or so weeks. From there they’d be transported by Qassem and Tamiz’s men, who were somewhere on board, through the Caribbean and then taken to Miami. They’d be sold on the North and South American diamond market undetected.

That was the Moroccans’ plan.

That plan, however, would be nipped in the bud.

Neither Nick nor Jonah liked that they didn’t know which crew members were in the pay of the Moroccans. But the situation, by definition, was tightly confined. The stop in Tarfaya had served a twofold purpose: They’d used the time to replace several crew members, and he’d made contact with the diamond smugglers.

They wouldn’t be going into port again for supplies, and in a couple of weeks the
Scorpion
would set sail from the dive site, the diamonds secure. The delay, and secure means of transportation, would give the counterterrorist organization Nick was involved with the time they needed to figure out who headed the diamond smugglers, and how they were getting blood diamonds out of Africa and filtering them into the American market undetected. Who the buyers were too.

That was a lot of birds with one stone.

As far as Qassem and Tamiz knew, El Malamah had delivered the containers of uncut diamonds to the
Scorpion
for them, then disappeared back into the underbelly of Morocco. And vanished
fast
. Nick knew they’d never leave him as a loose end.

Of the five new crew members Jonah had hired on in Tarfaya, he and Jonah had taken an educated guess that at least two, if not all five, of the new hires were the Moroccans’ men, there to ensure the diamonds reached their destination safely.

Isaac, Fakhir, Blake, Basim, and Abdul-Jalil.

Everyone else on board was pre-Morocco, and had been with them at least a year, if not longer.

Still, no matter where or when any of the crew were hired, everybody had been thoroughly background checked.
Everybody.
And even though they knew some of the recent hires belonged to the Moroccans, nothing in their usually rigorous background checks had indicated anything untoward.