Romancing the Alpha: An Action-Adventure Romance Boxed Set (31 page)

Katy shifted her gum from one cheek to the other. “Flattery will get you far but not with me. In my time as a diver for the US Navy, I participated in several shipwreck dives, check. My main role in those dives was to take pictures, another check. However, I haven’t dived much since I sidelined into academia. As you not so subtly noted, the ink is barely dry on my PhD. Yet here you are dangling a crazy sum of money as bait. Why do you want me to dive that particular wreck? And who is your mysterious employer?”

“I work for a man named Trevor Masterson. He collects antiques and rare jewels.” Without so much as a flicker of emotion across his fleshy face, Mr. Devon withdrew a piece of paper from his briefcase and laid it on her desk. “A map of the
Lusitania
.”

“I can see that,” she said dryly, taking in the elegant reproduction. “After looking at maps of that damn ship for the past three years, I could give you a guided tour.”

“That is precisely why we want to hire
you
.” The man tapped the area where the first class cabins had been located. “Alfred Gwynne Vanderbilt. What do you know about him?”

Katy rattled off the details from memory. “Wealthy American playboy and son of Cornelius Vanderbilt II. Traveling on the
Lusitania
from New York to Liverpool on a business trip. Accompanied by his valet, Ronald Denyer. Went down with the ship after allegedly acting the hero during the sinking. Body never recovered.” She eyed the man across from her. “Have I left out any pertinent details? I didn’t think his womanizing warranted a detailed analysis.”

The man on the other side of her desk smirked. “That’s where you’re wrong, Dr. Ryan.” With a flourish, he produced an old sepia photograph. “Do you know what this is?”

Katy squinted at the grainy picture. “Some kind of necklace. Whatever it is, it’s gaudy as hell.”

“That is a priceless diamond-and-ruby necklace,” Mr. Devon said in a severe tone. “It’s a photograph of one of the items from the Fire and Ice collection.

With a one-shouldered shrug, she leaned back in her chair and shoved her hands into the pockets of her utility pants. “What can I say? I don’t accessorize.”

“Not only is that necklace worth a fortune, it is part of a set Mr. Vanderbilt was carrying with him on the ship.”

She cocked an eyebrow. “Alfred Vanderbilt had a penchant for elaborate jewelry?”

“Alfred Vanderbilt had a penchant for expensive mistresses,” Mr. Devon said in a bone-dry tone.

“Lemme see that up close.” Katy picked up the photograph and snorted with laughter. “So Trevor Masterson wants me to attach myself to the expedition as photographer and find this butt ugly necklace and its companions. Did you steal the plot from James Cameron’s
Titanic
? Infamous shipwreck and a priceless necklace at the bottom of the sea?”

“
Necklaces
,” he corrected. “This is no film script, Dr. Ryan. The jewelry was being transported in a special carrier case Vanderbilt kept in the safe of his stateroom.”

Katy tossed the photo back on her desk. “
Sir
, do you even know the history of the ship? The Lucy is a wreck in every sense of the word. She was torpedoed by a German submarine and suffered a second explosion due to the munitions she wasn’t supposed to be carrying. The British Navy is alleged to have dropped depth charges on the wreck in an effort to conceal the evidence, causing further damage.”

“Tut, tut, Dr. Ryan. The munitions story has never been proven. The second blast could have been caused by a boiler exploding or coal dust igniting.”

Katy shook her head. “Bullshit. The ship took just eighteen minutes to sink. Torpedoes back then weren’t as effective as they are today. One torpedo into a ship that size shouldn’t have caused damage so devastating that it sank within eighteen
minutes
. The
Titanic
was a similar size, and it took almost three
hours
to go under. Survivors reported only one explosion within the ship, so it had to have been devastating. The only logical explanation is that the torpedo hit the cargo hold, and the cargo included explosives.”

Mr. Devon’s bland expression was irritating the hell out of her. “Whatever the cause of the sinking,” he said in his clipped accent, “the British were keen to get the Americans to enter the war. The opportunity to accuse the Germans of murdering twelve hundred innocent civilians was ideal fodder for the propaganda machine.”

“Well, you’ve answered one question,” she said, eyeing him speculatively.

He raised a quizzical eyebrow. “What question was that?”

“You’re not a spook. If you were an intelligence agent, you’d want to oil the cover-up the British and American governments have been maintaining for the past one hundred years.”

This comment elicited a chuckle. “For an academic, you have a strange proclivity for dramatic accusations. I work for a private collector. I’m not a spy, although I have no doubt one will be dispatched to monitor the exploration of the wreck. As you said, the British and American governments don’t appreciate questions being raised about the precise cause of the sinking. Which means you’ll have to be extra careful in concealing your true purpose in participating in the project.”

“You talk like I’ve already accepted your offer.”

That arched eyebrow again. “Haven’t you?”

He had her there. The memory of her mother’s panicked voice when she described her latest medical bill still rang in Katy’s ears.
Damn.
Even if she never found the jewels, the base fee Mr. Devon was offering would cover her mom’s medical expenses for the next few months.

And she’d be a liar if she said the prospect of exploring the ship she’d spent years researching didn’t have her blood humming. For better or worse, Katy could never resist an adrenalin-fueled challenge. That was one thing she had in common with her reckless former fiancé.

On instinct, her hand slid to her flat stomach. Her eyes stung with unshed tears when she recalled the nightmare of the past year. She blinked them away and considered her options. If Dex were in Ireland, he’d be all over this dive. Last she’d heard, he was on the other side of the world, exploring a shipwreck off the coast of Queensland. Which meant there was no reason for her to turn down Mr. Devon’s offer and every reason to accept it.

“All right. I’m in.” She extended a hand, resisting the urge to spit on it first and totally horrify her snobby visitor.

The man’s handshake was surprisingly limp for a man of his size. His oily smile sent a shiver of unease down her spine.

“Excellent, Dr. Ryan,” he said in his smooth baritone. “You won’t regret this.”

Part of her already did.

Ballybeg, County Cork

Dex Fitzgerald slung his bag on the floor and surveyed the apartment that would be his home for the next couple of weeks. “Good of you to put me up, bro. You sure I’m not kicking you out?”

His older brother grinned, reminding Dex of how much Seán resembled their late father. “Nah, don’t worry about it. Clio’s mother is away during the week. I can stay with her and Tammy. Besides, your expedition leader is paying me a hefty rent.”

“Staying with Clio and Tammy, eh?” Dex whistled. “You’re getting scarily domesticated in your old age. Do I need to buy a wedding suit?”

Seán’s grin widened. “Not yet, but I’ll keep you posted. Speaking of nuptials—” he handed Dex a cold beer bottle, “—whatever happened to that photographer you planned to marry?”

Dex swallowed past the lump in his throat and kept his tone nonchalant. “Didn’t work out.”

Understatement of the century.
Thoughts of Katy’s honey-colored hair and warm amber eyes ambushed his normally steely reserve. The raw ache caused by her absence from his life hadn’t dulled over the last year, and the memory of their last fight still had the power to flay him like a lash. He pushed the thoughts away and focused on the present.

“Rick says we’ll be done with the diving in two weeks,” he said. “Not that we have much of a choice. That’s when our funding runs out. We’ve got to hope the weather plays nice and allows us to dive as often as possible.”

Seán popped the top off his beer and tossed the opener to Dex. “Run this by me again. What, exactly, is your team doing down there? Your boss wasn’t particularly forthcoming.”

“Rick’s not a people person,” Dex said with a grin. “Our team is going to explore what remains of the RMS
Lusitania
before she’s totally eroded by the sea.” An abridged version of events, but it would have to suffice. He could hardly tell his brother, a policeman, that he and Rick were being paid by an American collector to salvage priceless jewelry from the wreck. Due to the heritage order placed on the wreck, any salvage they brought to the surface was by rights the property of the Irish people.

Seán’s brow creased. “I thought ship wrecks could survive longer than a hundred years.”

“Normally yes, but the Lucy is in an awkward position. She’s in relatively shallow water and takes quite a battering from the currents. It’s now or never, and Ballybeg harbor isn’t far from the wreck. Plus with the centenary this year, a couple of publicity photos of the ship exactly one hundred years after its sinking will fetch a tidy sum.” And if his lucrative side job went according to plan, he’d pocket a little extra.
If
being the appropriate word.

But Dex was an optimist. He’d undertaken riskier missions than this one and lived to tell (and sell) the tale, although none had netted him as much money as those necklaces would.

Seán gave an exaggerated shudder. “I don’t envy you the dives. The water is arse cold close to the shore, never mind as far out and as deep as you’ll be going.”

“All part of the job. It’ll be colder than the Australian gig, sure, but I’ll be well equipped to deal with the temperature.” Taking a swig of beer, Dex strode to the floor-to-ceiling windows that overlooked rolling green farmland dotted with sheep and cows, and the blue-green sea beyond. “It’s weird being back in Ballybeg after all these years. I’d forgotten how small the town is. I guess a child’s perspective on size is different. How do you stick the change of pace?”

His brother’s cheery expression faltered. “It was hard at first, I won’t lie. But since meeting Clio, I’ve had an attitude adjustment.”

Dex eyed his brother curiously. “Must be some adjustment. I can’t believe you turned down a transfer back to Dublin. The last time we emailed, you were itching to escape Ballybeg.”

“True love, kid. You should try it some time.”

Seán’s eyes twinkled with merriment, unaware of how his words sliced through Dex’s emotional armor. He’d loved Katy. Still did. And yet he’d managed to fuck it all up.

“Clio doesn’t want her daughter to change schools again,” Seán continued, “especially now that she’s settled in and made friends. Accepting a job with the new murder squad in Cork City was the ideal compromise.”

A compromise, yes, but hardly ideal. The new position didn’t have the same prestige as the job Seán had refused with the National Bureau of Criminal Investigation. His brother must have it bad for Clio. “When do you start the new job?”

“First of September. My replacement in Ballybeg will be here in August and we’ll have a couple of weeks to hand over.”

“I’m glad the Guards saw sense and gave you your rank back. Detective Inspector Mackey has a nicer ring to it than Sergeant Mackey. You’ll be heading this new murder squad, right?”

“Yeah.” His brother beamed, well deserved pride oozing out of every pore. “It’ll be a new challenge. If all goes according to plan, I’ll be promoted to Chief Inspector in a few years.”

“Good for you,” he said, and meant it. “You deserve it.”

A wicked twinkle appeared in his brother’s eye. “I should warn you that Uncle John-Joe and Aunt Nora want to meet you while you’re in Ballybeg.”

Dex’s eyebrows shot up. “Good God. I hope John-Joe puts on clothes for the occasion.”

“He might stretch to a wifebeater and underpants. I doubt he’ll be wearing much more than that.”

Dex shuddered. “I’ll remember to wear my shades.”

Seán took a sip from his bottle and gestured toward a closed door to the right of the kitchen. “Want the grand tour? It won’t take long.”

“Okay.” He followed his brother into the small bedroom. The double bed, wardrobe, and nightstand didn’t leave a lot of room to maneuver.

“It’s too small for a desk. You’ll have to use the one in the living room,” Seán said. “If your colleague needs desk space, he’ll have to use the eating bar. One of you will have to sleep on the pullout sofa.”

Dex cracked a smile. “We’ll manage. In comparison to some of the places I’ve stayed during expeditions, your apartment is a palace.”

“Your boss told me you already know the photographer you’ll be sharing the apartment with.”

“Yeah. I’ve worked with him several times.” Mickey Lawlor was a good sort and an excellent underwater photographer. Not as good as Katy, but then, who was?

The buzzer sounded through the apartment.

“That must be him now.” Seán strode toward the intercom and hit the button to open the building’s front door.

When Seán went out to greet Mickey Lawlor on the landing, Dex wandered back into the open plan living area and trailed a finger over their mother’s old record player. Funny to think his brother still had it after all these years, along with the impressive collection of vinyl records.

Voices drifted in from the open door—one male, one female. Dex frowned. Had Mickey brought someone with him? Or had Seán’s girlfriend, Clio, come to meet and greet his mysterious treasure hunter brother?

Dex turned when he heard the front door click shut and inhaled in a wheeze when his brain registered who was standing next to his brother.
Katy.

Katy’s stomach performed an acrobatic flip. “Dex?” she croaked.

Her ex-fiancé—the man who’d stolen her heart, juggled with it, and stomped it into extinction—paled beneath his deep tan. “
You’re
the photographer for Rick’s expedition?”

She licked her suddenly parched lips. “I’m one of them, yes.”

He gave her an earnest once-over, his attention lingering a second too long on her breasts before he dragged his gaze back to her face. A pink flush stained his cheeks. “You look good.”