Deep Blue (25 page)

Glory’s dark eyes widened. “You don’t think those are the guys who shot Conn?”

It had crossed her mind the instant she had seen the knife. “I don’t know that, either. They didn’t look much like divers. I guess they could have been down there to shoot me and not him, but if they wanted to kill me, they could have done it this morning.”

“We’d better call the police.” Glory got up from the bed, but Hope caught her arm.

“No police. These guys mean business, and this is Jamaica, not the States. We don’t really know who we can trust.”

Glory took a breath, let it out slowly. “Then we’ll tell Conn. He’ll know what to do.”

“No!” Hope’s hold tightened on Glory’s arm. “He’s not even out of the hospital yet. I don’t want him worried. He’s already got enough trouble as it is. Once he’s recovered enough to handle it, I’ll tell him myself.”

Glory mulled that over. “All right, we won’t tell Conn. We’ll tell Joe. He’s was a SEAL just like Conn. Joe can—”

Hope shook her head. “I’m through getting other people hurt. As far as I’m concerned, this is over. The detective I hired is out of commission. If I let the whole thing drop, they’ll leave me alone and that’ll be the end of it.”

She wondered how they’d found out about Jimmy, then remembered he’d said something about not cashing the checks they were writing him. Maybe that had been the tip-off. She wished she could call, but if she did, she would only be putting him in more danger. A get-well note with a message inside would have to do.

Glory’s gaze ran over her, taking in her disheveled appearance. “Conn’s going to know.”

Hope released a shaky breath. She hadn’t thought of that. Getting up from the bed, she walked over to the mirror above the dresser. The woman staring back at her had tangled red hair, a rip in her orange tee shirt, and big red blotches, rapidly turning to bruises, all over her neck and arms. There were bruises on her back as well, she knew, though she couldn’t see them.

“Oh, God.”

“Look, here’s what we’ll do. I brought a few things with me in case I needed to stay. Nothing’s your size, but I think there’s a blouse in there that will work if you tie it up around your waist. The collar will help hide the bruising. We’ll use some of my makeup on your neck to cover the rest. If we’re lucky, Conn won’t notice until you’re ready to tell him.”

Hope managed a smile. “Thanks, Glory. I really appreciate everything you’ve done.” And she was thinking that maybe the smartest thing Joe Ramirez had ever done was to marry Gloria Rothman.

It was half an hour later by the time Hope was dressed in Glory’s borrowed blouse, her bruises covered with a thick layer of makeup, her composure steady enough for them to drive back to the hospital.

Conn was wearing his swimsuit when she walked into his room, looking far too good for a man who was standing next to the hospital bed he’d spent the night in. As she had left the motel, she’d had Glory stop the car while she rushed back into the souvenir shop next to the office to buy him a short-sleeved shirt. It was pale blue, size extra-large, with the motel name embroidered on the pocket. But it buttoned up the front so he’d be able to get it on. His swimsuit would have to do until they got back to the boat.

“Hi…” he said with a smile when he glanced up and saw her.

Hope smiled softly, her heart kicking up in a way she wished it wouldn’t. “How are you feeling?” She handed him the shirt, admiring his incredible chest, trying not to look at the bandage wrapped around his middle and wondered if she were somehow responsible for the injury he had suffered.

“Better. Still hurts like hell, but I refuse to spend the day drugged up like a dummy. How anyone could think that’s fun I can’t imagine.”

Hope laughed. She helped him put on the shirt, moving slowly, trying not to hurt him. He didn’t make a sound but his jaw was set and she knew his side must be throbbing like the very devil.

“Why don’t you take something—even an Advil would help.”

“I took four already. I’m not a martyr, you know. It’s just that I’ve got things to do when we get back and I need to be able to think.”

Knowing it was useless to argue, she simply stepped back to look at him. His tan was back in place, his eyes as blue as the sea and no longer glazed with pain, though she caught a tightening in the lines of his face whenever he moved.

“All right, macho man, let’s blow this popstand.”

He grinned. “You got it, babe.”

The endearment washed over her. He was using them more and more often. She told herself she didn’t like it, but it was a lie. She loved the soft way he said the words—and it scared her to death.

She took a breath, refusing to think about it now. Shoving open the heavy door, she held it while Conn walked out. No wheelchair waited in the hall. This was Jamaica. Life was less restricted here, the rules more relaxed. A few feet down the corridor, Glory stood waiting, tall and blond, her hair swept up in a ponytail, a big smile on her face.

“Hiya, handsome. I hear you need a ride.”

Conn leaned down and brushed a brotherly kiss on her cheek. “Thanks for coming, Glory. I was worried about Hope being here all alone.”

Glory flicked a glance at Hope, thinking of what had happened at the motel, but Hope shook her head. Glory looked at Conn and smiled. “I was glad to come.”

“Joe called,” Conn said. “I told him we’d be on our way as soon as I could bust out of this joint. He said all I had to do was pick the lock and knock off one of the guards.”

“Well, hey,” Hope said, “for you that’s a piece of cake.”

Glory laughed. “That sounds like Joe. God, I can’t wait to see him.”

“You ready to go?” Hope asked Conn.

He nodded. “All the paperwork’s done. All we gotta do is make it to the getaway car.”

Hope grinned. “The car’s right out front.” She let Conn lean against her as they moved down the hall, though she thought he could have made it on his own. “I think we’re all more than ready to go home.”

The double glass doors swung open and they walked out on the wide front steps. Hope froze, stunned by the array of newsmen waiting for Conn to appear.

“They weren’t here when we came in,” she said.

“Well, they’re damn sure here now.” Conn kept on walking.

As he slowly navigated the steps, one of the reporters shoved a microphone in front of his face. “Do you think they were after the treasure, Conn?”

“What do you think?” he said, and kept going.

“How much have you brought up so far?”

“No comment.”

A woman reporter stepped forward. “Do you think the authorities will catch the man who shot you?”

“No,” Conn said bluntly as Hope opened the door of Glory’s rental car and helped him stretch out in the backseat as best he could. His jaw was clenched in pain and several reporters were yelling questions as she firmly closed the door. Hope hurriedly sat down in the passenger seat and Glory jammed the car in gear and hit the gas.

As they drove off down the block, she looked back at Conn but his eyes were closed, his jaw still set. They had paid the motel clerk an exorbitant price for two old, crummy rubber pillows, but watching him trying to get comfortable, Hope thought it was worth it. He slept on the drive back to Port Antonio and so far he hadn’t noticed the neat makeup job Glory had done on the ugly bruises on her neck.

Hope shivered just thinking of it.

She remembered the words she had meant to say to Buddy Newton but never got the chance—
it isn’t worth dying for.

Hope intended to take her own advice.

Conn felt like hell. His side ached like a red-hot poker had been shoved through his skin; he was weak and a little light-headed. He slept for a while, uncomfortably squeezed into the backseat of Glory’s rental car, propped up on a couple of worn-out foam pillows. He hoped the sleep would help him recover his strength. He had work to do when they got back.

He was awake when the car pulled into the scenic little town of Port Antonio. He asked Glory to stop at Gilligan’s and she wheeled the car up in front.

As soon as they had begun finding treasure, he had placed an order with the owner of the dive shop for a Divelink system. The underwater communication devices that allowed divers to talk to each other as well as the boat had arrived last week, just after they had left port.

Conn wished he’d had them the day he’d had the run-in with the thieves. Divelink masks could communicate up to a distance of forty-five hundred feet and even had an emergency signal that alerted other divers when a diver was in distress. If he’d had the equipment, maybe he wouldn’t have wound up getting shot.

But the masks were extremely expensive and diving as shallow as they were, he hadn’t really thought they would need them. With the latest find, the danger element had increased. Now he was damned glad the equipment was there.

Hissing a breath, ignoring a hot stab of pain in his side, he got out of the car and started walking. Hope was immediately next to him, helping him up the few steps to the front door. An amused smile curved his lips. He could have made it without her, but he liked having her fuss over him.

He would never forget how worried she had been when he had been injured. He didn’t think Kelly had ever cared that much.

But Hope cared. Conn was more and more determined to make her realize just how much.

“You should have let me come in and pick up whatever it is you need,” she scolded. “You should be resting as much as you possibly can.”

“Don’t be a nag,” he teased, smiling as he ran a finger along her cheek. She looked up at him with those lovely sea-green eyes and heat rushed into his groin. As impossible as it seemed, he went hard. Damn, now he ached in two places instead of just one. “This won’t take long. We’ll be on our way in just a few minutes.”

The equipment looked good. After signing more than five thousand dollars onto the Treasure Limited credit card, he let Hope help him back out to the car. The owner, an Asian man nearly as short as Hope, must have seen the story of the assault on the news. He insisted on carrying the equipment out to the car, waited as Glory unlocked the trunk, then loaded the gear inside and closed the lid.

“You take care of yourself, now, Mr. Reese,” the man said with a singsong accent.

“Believe me, I will.”

Hope helped him into the backseat of the car and when she straightened, he happened to see her wince. “What happened? You get hurt yesterday, too?”

The color drained from her face. “It…it isn’t that. I just…I think I pulled a muscle…maybe climbing out of the water in such a hurry. It’s nothing to worry about.” She tried to smile but failed, managed with the second attempt.

Conn frowned. She was lying. He wasn’t sure why.

But he damned well intended to find out.

More reporters waited at the dock. Captain Bob had done a remarkable job of entertaining them without really telling them much. Hope spotted Joe pacing the bow of the boat when the car rolled into the parking lot. He scrambled along the deck, down the gangway, and raced madly toward them. Glory jammed the engine into
PARK
so fast Conn hissed at a sudden jolt of pain.

“Sorry,” Glory said, swinging open the door, and then she was in her husband’s arms.

Hope watched them a moment, the tender way he held her, the fierce possession in his eyes when he looked at her, and a lump rose in her throat. She wished Richard had loved her that way, loved her and the child she had carried. But Richard loved only himself, and the pain he had caused had destroyed any chance for her to love that way again.

As she climbed out of the car, Hope paused. For the first time it occurred to her that she had never loved Richard that much, though at the time she had believed she did. An image of Conn appeared in her mind—tall, strong, fiercely passionate, incredibly protective. He was a man a woman could love with all her heart.

Any woman but her.

He was watching her, she saw, as she turned to help him climb out of the back, looking at her with the same fierce possession she had seen in Joe’s dark eyes. She could feel his gaze moving over her almost as if he’d touched her, feel the powerful attraction between them. Desire shot through her, and overwhelming need.

And love.

The unwanted thought rang in her head as clearly as the bell in the church on the hill. Dear God, she couldn’t deny it any longer. She was in love with Conner Reese, and she simply could not be.

It was impossible. Out of the question. She knew what it would feel like if things didn’t work out between them, knew that she could not survive that kind of loss a second time.

Two more weeks,
she thought.
That’s all there is for us. Two more weeks and I can go back to the life I lived before.

By then, the final magazine article would be finished. She was no longer involved in the Hartley House story. She could go back to New York, return to her job at
Midday News.
She would be safe there, her heart and soul no longer in danger.

She took a deep breath. Two more weeks. The pain of leaving would worsen with each passing day, but the reward would be two more weeks of precious memories. And Conn needed her. She wasn’t about to leave when he was still hurting.

She managed to muster a smile. “Let’s get going, macho man. I think you said there were some things you needed to do.”

Instead he reached for her, cradled the side of her face with his hand, tipped her head back, and captured her lips in a long, soft kiss. The bruises on her neck throbbed, but the pain disappeared beneath his gentle assault. His lips were so soft she sank into them, his kiss so deep and fierce she couldn’t catch her breath. His tongue swept in, and she had to force herself not to melt against him.

If he hadn’t been hurting so badly, she would have thrown her arms around his neck and kissed him the way Glory had kissed Joe, with every part of her body and even a little of her soul.

Instead she eased away. “If you don’t stop, even with that hole in your side, we’re going to be putting on quite a show right here in the parking lot.”

Conn didn’t laugh. There was something in his eyes as he watched her. The heat remained. He was hard, she knew, obviously as needy as she.

“I can think of better places, but, hey, if you insist…”

She laughed softly, eased an arm around his waist on the side that wasn’t injured, and helped him cross the parking lot toward the gangway. News crews hovered there, turning toward them the minute they realized Conn was on his way.

The same questions were hurled at him: “Do you have any idea who shot you? Do you think they’ll catch the men who did it? How much treasure have you found so far?”

Conn gave them the same responses, mostly “No comment.”

At last they were safely aboard the
Conquest.
Hope helped him down to the chart room and he settled back on a padded bench along the wall.

“Glad to have you back,” Andy Glass said.

“How you feeling?” Captain Bob asked.

“Never better,” Conn said with a straight face that made all of them grin.

One after another, the crew came in to check on him. Michael had gone home with his grandmother, his adventure over and time to go back to school. But he left a note for Conn, telling him to get well quick.

The professor had also left the boat, asking Joe to relay his get-well wishes. He had a few more lectures to give at the college, and Andy said Professor Marlin’s wife, Mary, and daughter, Virginia, were coming to Jamaica for a week-long visit. Hope prayed the older woman would have one of the rare, lucid periods the professor had mentioned and be able to enjoy these last golden hours with her husband.

Then Tommy Tyler walked in, cocky and grinning as usual, freshly shaved, his short red hair recently trimmed. “Hey, Conn. Sorry to hear what happened.”

Conn carefully clasped the younger man’s extended hand. “To tell you the truth, it’s a little embarrassing. I was trained for that kind of stuff, you know? I can’t believe I let some bozo sneak up and shoot me.”

Hope reached over and touched his shoulder. “You weren’t expecting to be attacked in your own backyard.”

He cast her a look, the same one he had given her a couple of times earlier, but didn’t say anything. She wondered if somehow he knew about the attack on her that morning, but she didn’t think there was any way he could.

He turned his attention to the captain. “We can’t afford to leave the site anymore, Bob. Not even overnight. There’s too damned much money at stake. From now on, we’ll have to have our fuel, water, and whatever supplies we need ferried out to the boat.”

“Good idea,” Captain Bob said. “I’d been considering that myself. Expensive, though.”

“With what we’re bringing up, it looks like we’ll be able to afford it.”

The captain nodded. “I know someone who can handle the job.”

Hope talked to Tommy while the necessary calls were made, but her mind remained on Conn. She couldn’t seem to stop worrying about him, wishing he were resting instead of taxing his strength.

“I wish I could have been here the day you found the ballast pile,” Tommy was saying. “I’ve been working on another assignment. But I did get some great photos of the stuff the boat brought in to Jamaica. There was an armored car waiting to haul the gold to the bank. The magazine’s gonna love it.”

She tried to pay attention to the conversation but she knew Conn must be tiring. She was surprised when she looked up to see him standing right in front of her, a hard look on his face.

“We need to talk. Let’s go.”

Her stomach tightened. His jaw was clenched and she didn’t think it was from pain. “All right.”

They made their way down to his cabin. She noticed he didn’t seem to need her help, though she knew he must be hurting. As soon as they stepped inside, he slammed the door.

“All right, what the hell is going on?”

She swallowed, felt the soreness of every bruise on her throat. “I don’t know what you mean.” She didn’t. At least she wasn’t completely sure.

“You’re a really terrible liar, Hope.” He reached toward her and she noticed a makeup smudge on the back of his hand. Very carefully, he used his thumb to remove another smear of flesh-colored cream from the side of her neck. He held it up in front of her. “Now, tell me what happened.”

His tone was implacable, yet she didn’t miss the concern. She moistened her lips and raised her chin. “I had a run-in with a couple of thugs this morning. I think they may have been the same guys who attacked us in New York. Or at least two of the three, since the third man is probably still nursing a broken arm.”

“What did they do?” His jaw looked carved in stone, his legs braced slightly apart as if he intended to take on her assailants.

“Not much. Basically they gave me a taste of what it feels like to be strangled, then delivered a message. I had better stay off the Hartley House story or I’ll wind up dead.”

A muscle tightened in his cheek. “They found out Deitz was still working for you?”

She nodded. “They broke both his legs.”

“Christ. How’d they find out?”

“I don’t know. He told me once he wasn’t cashing their checks. Maybe that made them suspicious.”

“That’s it? They came all the way over here to threaten you just because Deitz was still sniffing around?”

She glanced away for an instant and Conn’s eyes darkened.

“What else, Hope? What else did you do?”

She sighed. “I wrote an article for a small, liberal newspaper in Manhattan called the
Village Independent.
The story outlined what had happened to Buddy, the things Deitz told me about the owners on each side of Hartley House wanting to buy the piece for a hundred-million-dollar development, along with my own suspicions. Apparently it was printed and somehow they figured out I was the one who wrote it.”

“Dammit, Hope! Those guys could have killed you!” He towered over her, looking like he wanted to do it himself. God, she could imagine him commanding a small army of men without the slightest problem.

“Take it easy, okay? They didn’t kill me. They didn’t even break my legs.”

“That isn’t funny.”

“Actually, I thought it was.” She looked up at him. “I’m off the story, all right? I’m out of it completely. That’s what they wanted. That’s what they got. So I’m not in any more danger.”

He released a frustrated breath but enfolded her in his arms. Hope let him, just slid her arms around his neck and did her best not to hurt him.

“It’s all over, okay? I would have told you but I didn’t want you to worry.”

Conn eased back to look at her. “You’re a real handful of trouble, you know that?” And then he kissed her, very tenderly, very thoroughly. She didn’t mean to kiss him back quite so passionately. She knew what would happen if she did. But her mouth parted and his tongue slid in and her own tongue slid over his. Conn groaned.

“We can’t do this,” she whispered, drawing away. “We might reopen your wounds.”

“There’s a risk in everything.” Conn kissed her again and her body began to melt at the same time her brain screamed a warning. There was a chance she’d been responsible for getting him shot in the first place. She wasn’t about to be the one to hurt him again.

Ignoring a stab of regret, Hope stepped out of his embrace. “No way. It’s too dangerous.”

“I want to be inside you. I want it so much I can hardly think.”

She knew he was aroused. She saw the need in his eyes, the hunger. Her own need stirred, urging her to ignore the damage she might do to Conn.

She looked at him and yearning swept over her. She wanted him as much as he wanted her. Maybe more. Taking his hand, she led him over to the bed, unbuttoned and eased the pale blue shirt off his shoulders, her gaze skimming over the bandage around the indentation of muscle over his ribs. Reaching down, she began to shove down his swimsuit. It was the same one he’d been wearing yesterday. Traces of blood stained the fabric, and her chest tightened.