Make Her Pay (5 page)

Solange cradled the scepter.
All that power.

CHAPTER FIVE

THE TAP ON the lab door surprised Con, and so did the stab of disappointment that it wasn’t Lizzie. Was she
still
out with Paxton?

Alita lifted the corner of a napkin covering a plate, offering it to him along with a slow, sweet smile. “It would be a crime for you to miss Brady’s Bacardi Double Chocolate cake just because you’re babysitting the treasure.”

“That was thoughtful of you.” He took the plate and she raised a brow, obviously waiting for an invitation. He’d had long chats with Kenny and Walt Brubaker today but only a few minutes with Dave the divemaster in his effort to infiltrate the crew. Guess it was time for Diver Barbie. “Have you had any? I’ll share.”

Dimples deepened. “I hoped you’d ask, since I’m sacrificing the last piece for you. I thought Walt would stab me with his fork when I reached for it.”

Con stepped to the side to let her in, his gaze sliding over the skin-tight jeans and T-shirt. “I’m getting the impression Brady is the most beloved crewmember on the boat.”

“He is a masterful chef,” she said, breezing in and giving the lab a visual sweep. “And he only bakes dessert when we make a great recovery, as motivation.” She turned and trained deep blue eyes on him, the dimples still at work, a lock of dark hair sliding over her cheeks. “Where is it?”

That didn’t take long. “Locked up.”

She pointed to the cake. “That should buy me a look, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled out a stool from the center table and offered it to her, taking the one next to it. “Haven’t tasted it yet.”

She slowly ran one finger over the icing, gathering a clump on the tip, then lifted it to his mouth with a look of pure sex. “Then have some.”

He took the lick she offered and managed not to make a face. He didn’t like sweets, and he didn’t like pushy women. But he’d play her game, because his job wasn’t quite done here.

“Very good.”

She smiled as if he’d paid her the compliment, and not the cake. “So, I hear you were a Navy SEAL.”

He’d told Kenny, who’d been in the Navy. “Word travels fast.”

“On a boat with a dozen people in each other’s face 24/7? You bet it does. How long have you been diving?”

“A while. How about you?”

“A few years.”

He took a small bite of cake, avoiding the frosting. “What’s your background?” He knew, of course. Dropped out of the University of Miami from a marine biology program, married a boat captain and started diving, divorced him a year later, kept diving.

“I’m a marine biologist.”

And a liar. “Who dives for treasure.”

“Hey, someone around here has to understand the environment. I know, I don’t look like a marine biologist. But you
do
look like a Navy SEAL.”

“I wasn’t one for very long,” he said, never comfortable with the idea that people thought he had some long and illustrious career as a SEAL. “How’d you get into diving?”

“The way all women get into a lifestyle change.”

“A guy?”

She shrugged. “Of course. But he’s gone.”

“And you’re still diving.”

“It’s an addiction, as you know.” She tapped the tabletop with her nail. “So let me see it. It’s not against the rules for me to look at it.”

He pushed off the stool to unlock the cabinet. “Lot of rules on this boat, aren’t there?”

“When Judd Paxton’s signing the paychecks, we follow the rules.” She came up next to him, letting her body brush his, her smile flirtatious. “Most of them, anyway.”

He opened the steel-encased door and took out the medallion that had spent the afternoon soaking in a vinegar solution and under the ministrations of Charlotte Gorman’s well-trained hands. The coral was gone from the gold, which gleamed, and the jewels were almost perfect.

“Charlotte thinks it needs some more cleaning, but…” He angled it for her to see. “It is a beauty.”

She nodded, her eyes widening appreciatively. “And worth a ton.”

“Have you seen anything like it before?” he asked.

“Nope.” She ran her finger over the crucifix. “Makes you wonder just what we’re searching for here.”

“Doesn’t it, though? What do you think?”

She shrugged, still studying the artifact. “We’re too far out for the 1715 or 1733 fleets, so something independent, probably. Something that didn’t go down in a hurricane, or it would be closer to shore.”

“Any ideas?” he asked, holding her gaze, knowing the eye contact might open her up to talk.

“Not a one. I’m just here for the money.”

He inched away. “I thought it was an addiction.”

“I’m addicted to money.” She laughed, leaning into the space he’d left between them. “Is that something you find unattractive?”

“Not passing opinion on it.” He returned the medallion to the cloth bedding Charlotte had made for it and reached to close the cabinet door, but Alita put her hand in his arm, stopping him.

“You need to see it again?” he asked.

“I just…” She leaned over and let her shoulder press into his arm. “I kind of want a picture of it.”

Another one with pictures? “No can do, sweetheart. That would be against Mr. Paxton’s rules.”

“Screw Mr. Paxton.”

“I suppose you could try that and see if he lets you take pictures.”

She put a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Is that
your
price?”

Con spun at the sound of a shuffled foot and a tap that pushed open the entry that he’d left ajar.

Lizzie stood there, a knowing smile on her face. “That didn’t take long.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, a sensation kicking him that was exactly the opposite of what he’d felt five minutes ago when Alita arrived.

“As you know so well,” he said, closing and locking the cabinet door, “things aren’t always what they seem.”

“Well, I
seem
to be intruding, so see ya later.” She nodded at Alita and turned to leave, but he reached her in two steps, getting hold of her elbow as she stepped into the hall.

“Wait.”

Surprise darkened her amber eyes. “What?”

“How was your excursion?” Dumb question, but he didn’t want her to leave.

She smiled, almost as though she got that, but behind him Alita cleared her throat and Lizzie’s gaze slid past his shoulder.

“We’re just about done,” he said softly.

She flicked a playful finger at his unbuttoned shirt. “I see that.”

“Don’t leave.” He still held her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I want to talk to you.”

She slipped out of his grip, her gaze skimming his face, stopping at his mouth, then going back to his eyes. “Stop by later.”

“I will.”

“On one condition,” she added. “Bring your phone.” She mouthed the last three words so Alita didn’t hear.

She headed away slow enough that he could watch the sway of her faded jeans, a siren call of a backside he’d already seen in the flesh, and wanted to see more.

He turned his attention to Alita, wondering how quickly he could get rid of her.

She was on his makeshift cot, thumbing through
The Odyssey
.

“Color me impressed, Constantine.”

“Don’t be.”

She laughed, leaning back on two hands, letting her sizable rack jut forward, a toss of thick black hair completing the come-on.

He reached for Alita’s hand and her eyes sparked, but then she realized he was helping her up from the cot. “And I need to get back to reading.”

“You’re kicking me out.” There was a note of surprise in her voice. She probably didn’t get turned down too often.

“Thanks for the cake.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze and sent a regretful look at the closet where he’d locked the medallion, confirming that she wanted it, or a picture of it, as much or more than she wanted him.

Could
she
be the traitor?

“Hope you’re just as lucky tomorrow,” she said as she headed out. “Brady said he’ll make strawberry cheesecake.”

“I’ll do my best, but Lizzie found that medallion.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Lizzie never finds anything,” she said, stepping out into the hall. “Since we’ve been on this dive, she comes up empty-handed every time. Then she goes down with you and, bam, she brings up the best recovery of the trip so far. You were a sweetheart to let her have credit for it.”

“Maybe I’m good luck.”

Or maybe she wasn’t showing her finds to the crew. Maybe she was slipping them into her weight belt when no one was watching. And then maybe she was contacting someone who secretly met her at night and she handed them off. Maybe he’d better get up to her bunk, now.

“Well, I’d like to dive with you tomorrow,” Alita said. “So I can rub up against some of your luck.”

“That’s up to Dave, I suppose.”

Even after he closed the door, he could hear her footsteps on the stairs. He waited long enough for the sound to disappear, for Alita to go into her bunk, or maybe up to the main deck where some of the crew was watching a movie and eating cake.

He retrieved Lizzie’s phone from the hiding place, then slid it into the pocket of his jeans next to his own.

Locking the entry with a new dead bolt he’d installed, not bothering with shoes, he moved soundlessly up the stairs to the quarters deck, paused to make sure the hall was empty, then took a few long strides to her door.

One tap, and it was open.

“That was fast,” she said, then she peeked around him. “Or did you bring your new girlfriend?”

He grinned. “Stop, or I’ll think you’re jealous.”

She rolled her eyes and stepped back, letting him in.

“You cleaned up,” he said, looking around. It wasn’t exactly pristine, but he could see more surfaces than before.

“That’s why I need your phone,” she said, holding her hand out. “I lost mine. I need to use yours to call it. And don’t even think about giving me shit for having one. We all signed papers, and I bet half the crew has them.”

“Who’s so important that you’d trust me with your secret?” he asked, pulling out his phone.

“My sister. I have to check on her.” The answer was guileless, and, if his gut was correct, honest.

“What’s wrong with her? Is she sick?”

“She’s alone, that’s all.”

“How old is she?”

“Twenty-six.”

He laughed. “And no babysitter?”

She snagged the phone he offered and dropped on the bunk. “I just like to talk to her every day. We’re all we’ve got now.”

“You can call her from that, if you like.”

“That’s okay. I just want to find my own phone.”

Normally he’d have dialed, not wanting her to see how advanced the phone was, but he needed her to look at the keypad. When she did, he surreptitiously slipped her cell phone from his pocket and flicked it under the blanket.

In a second, the bed vibrated with a soft hum.

“Oh, thank God,” she said on a sigh of relief. “How in the heck did it get under there?”

“You should try making your bed.”

“We all have our flaws.” She lifted the sheets and blankets and dove halfway under them as she sought the source of the vibrating. She glanced up from the sheet cave, shaking her head a little as she looked at his exposed chest. “Well, some of us do, anyway.”

He smiled at the compliment. “I have plenty of flaws, believe me.”

“Faults, maybe.” She whipped her hand up, victoriously producing the phone. “But flaws? You have none. You’re great looking, have a charming personality, an excellent diver, and you share the wealth and credit with your crewmembers. You even worried about my burns before yours last night.”

“Yet you were ready to think the worst of me when you saw Alita Holloway in the lab.”

She nodded. “I was, but since you came to my phone rescue so quickly, I believe you can add ‘avoiding her charms’ to your list of attributes.”

“If you’re not careful, you’re going to start to like me.”

“Don’t worry. Won’t happen.”

He laughed softly. “Why not?”

“Because I’m…” She trailed off as if she’d said too much.

“You’re what?” He trailed a finger up her arm to coax her. “Why don’t you finish that sentence?”

“I don’t want to.” She looked at her phone again. “I wish I could trust you, though,” she said softly.

“Because you have secrets, don’t you?”

“Everybody has secrets.”

Bracing his arm behind her, he leaned closer. “Tell me yours.”

For a second, he thought she would. Then she jerked away, pushing herself up from the bed, but he grabbed her arm.

“Never mind,” he said reassuringly. “I’m not interested in your secrets.”

She settled back on the bed, not quite as close, but near enough for Con to feel her warmth. “You’re interested in something,” she said, eyeing him. “I haven’t figured out what it is yet, but you’re after something.”

“Two guesses, Lizzie.” He let his gaze drop to her mouth, brushed a curl out over her cheek, and kept his eyes open so he could watch hers close as he kissed her. “First one doesn’t count.”

CHAPTER SIX

THE CONTACT WAS so light, Lizzie was more aware of sweet, warm breath than the feel of his mouth. Her eyes began to close but his didn’t, so she fought the urge to sink in to the kiss. Instead she held his eye contact, as electrifying as his mouth, as sexual and sensual as anything she’d ever felt.

Silver blue. Intense. Locked on her.

He angled his head slightly and added an infinitesimal amount of pressure, just enough to make it a real kiss and send a wave of warmth from her mouth to her… everywhere.

His fingertip grazed her jaw, a whisper of a touch, barely a caress. She breathed in a little, and that seemed to pull him deeper into the kiss, the tip of his tongue softly, slowly circling the opening of her mouth.

Her eyes heavy, her hands achy, she finally closed her lids and lifted her arms to rest on his shoulders, turn her torso toward him, and pull closer. He met her halfway, his chest against hers, their thighs pressed on the bed.

The instant they had body contact, he slid his tongue into her mouth, stealing more breath and sending more heat through her. A soft moan vibrated her mouth, and she wasn’t sure if it was him or her or both, but the sensation just made her want more.

As natural as the next breath, he guided her on her back, the move so sweet and easy, she just let it happen, falling on the unmade bed like it was a cloud.

“You’re seducing me.”

He smiled into the kiss. “Man, I hate to be so obvious.”

She broke the kiss, but he just added some body pressure, gently rolling against her hips, taking his lips from her mouth to her jaw and down her throat.

“Why are you doing this?”

This time, he laughed. “You really don’t get out much, do you?”

Still, the sense that there was an ulterior motive lingered. “I mean why… me and not Alita?”

Lifting a little, he frowned. “Dumb question. Bad timing. But I’ll answer it if I have to.”

“You have to.”

“You’re cute and sexy and funny and…” He kissed her again, with a quick stroke of his tongue. “I like you.”

As if that was all that needed to be said, he returned to kissing her so completely she couldn’t stop the twisting ache low in her belly, the fiery sparks making her want to slide her leg over his hips and pull him into her.

Her heart hammered and he lowered his head, dragging that tongue over her, as if he were going straight to the source of all the noise in her chest and could simply…
lick
it.

Her fingers tightened on his head, tunneling into thick, soft hair, lifting his head before he reached his destination and she was gone for good.

“You like this, or you like me?”

A soft puff of air escaped with his frustrated chuckle. “Both. I like you. I like this.” He rocked his hips against her. “But honey, if you just want to talk for a while…” His tone left no doubt he didn’t want to, but the offer stood.

Did she? Too much time, and she’d tell him everything. And she still couldn’t be sure he was trustworthy. So why was she horizontal on her bed, when she was supposed to be calling Brianna for an update…

“You’re thinking too hard,” he said, inching his hand up her waist, perilously close to the breast that had just escaped his mouth. “Don’t think, Lizzie.”

“I don’t just… do this with anybody.”

“Good to know.” One more inch. His thumb grazed the underside of her breast, the thin fabric of her shirt somehow making the contact positively incendiary. “ ’Cause I’m not anybody.”

He fooled her, lowering his head before his fingers moved again, closing his lips right over the hardened tip of her nipple, the cotton no match for his tongue.

The room spun, and her body went boneless and helpless and lost.

He pressed his lower half against her, that beautiful manhood she’d admired in the shower fully erect now, pulsing with each move of his hips, finding her center as he shifted so their bodies met.

The concept of stopping faded with every suspended second of sweetness, her lower half completely melted, her brain just as mushy, and all she could do was clench his shoulders and let it happen.

Just as he glided his hand around her breast, circling it with certainty, the fog started to lift. How far was she going to let this little session go? Far.

His other hand slipped under her shirt, sliding toward the bottom of her bra. He timed the next roll of his hips perfectly, just as he dipped his fingers under her satin bra and closed over her breast.

The shock of his hand on her flesh exploded through all her senses.

Then he jerked upright, almost completely off her.

“Con.” She slipped her hand behind his neck, pulling him back.

“Someone’s out there,” he said in a harsh whisper. “Outside your cabin. Listening.”

“How do you- I didn’t hear anything.” Except the Niagara Falls of blood rushing in her ears.

He put a finger on her mouth and shook his head.

She forced herself to be perfectly still, to concentrate on the sounds outside her bunk and not on the shadow of whiskers right in front of her, or the pressure of his hard-on, or the bare chest she was surely going to feel against her about-to-be-bare chest.

The knock was hard and swift. He gave her an “I told you so” look and flipped off the bunk in one easy move.

“Lizzie!” Oh God-
Flynn Paxton
. “We need to find Con! Do you know where he is?”

Before she could formulate a cover for him, Con had the cabin door open.

“I’m right here. What’s the matter?”

“The medallion is missing.”

Lizzie’s heart stopped slamming as she sucked in a breath.

“I hid it,” Con said, blocking the entrance and giving her time to sit up, straighten her clothes, and check her top, soaking wet from his mouth. “It’s in a locked cabinet in the lab.”

She scanned the bed and desk, desperate for anything to pull over when her gaze fell on the cell phone he’d dropped on the table.

“No, it’s not,” Flynn Paxton insisted. “That cabinet is hanging by a hinge and the medallion is gone. Nice work.”

As Con swore under his breath and bolted into the hall, she launched up and made a grab for the phone. The second she slipped it in her pocket, Paxton stepped into her cabin, his glare as dark as anything she’d ever seen.

“I knew he was in here.”

“Good for you, Flynn,” she said.

“So if the medallion’s really missing, we have you to blame.” His gaze dropped over her kiss-dampened T-shirt and he made a smirk, then followed Con down the hall.

With a sigh, she sank on the bed.

If Paxton hadn’t shown up, there was no telling how far that would have gone. Yes, there was-it would have gone all the way.

So if she trusted the man enough to give him her body, shouldn’t she trust him enough to give him her secrets?

It was time to find out.

Con stared at the hole where his padlock had been.
Gone
. It couldn’t have been shot off-he’d have heard it. Someone just picked it. Totally outsmarted him. He marched to the metal cabinet, which hung from a hinge, having been ingeniously unscrewed from the outside. A trick he’d used many times.

“Fuck!” He slammed his hand on the counter with a thud.

“Perhaps if you hadn’t been trying to do just that, this wouldn’t have happened.”

He spun at the sound of Alita’s voice, her flirtatious smile reduced to an unattractive smirk.

“You’re the only person who knew it was in this cabinet,” he ground out.

“Thank you for the compliment, Con, but I’m not capable of that.” She nodded toward the destroyed cabinet. “Anyway, I told the entire crew where you had it when I went upstairs.”

“Why?”

She shrugged, and he took a few steps forward, using his size and fury to threaten her.

“Why?” he demanded again, in her face.

She met his gaze, unintimidated. “I knew you went to her room.”

“So, what? You were jealous?”

“Of Lizzie Dare? She wouldn’t know what to do with a man if one bit her.”

She obviously didn’t know the power of her competition. Or maybe she did.

“That’s why you advertised the hiding place of the most valuable item on board?” He couldn’t keep the disgust out of his voice.

At least he knew now that Lizzie wasn’t the thief… or not the only one, anyway. While he was busy trying to screw the truth out of her, someone else had screwed him. He blew out another curse, just as Paxton powered in.

“Get out of here, Alita,” he said. “I need to talk to Con privately.”

She speared him with a look, and left.

“There’s a thief on board,” Flynn said.

No shit. “Whoever it is, they’re still on board, and so is that medallion,” Con replied. “We need to search every room, every hold, every bag, every corner until we find it.”

“Do
we
?” Paxton practically spit out the words.

“As you may recall, you gave me the assignment to secure the treasure this afternoon.”

“And you failed.”

Had he been set up? “Who on this ship has this kind of capability?”

“Plenty of people,” he said. “And if we don’t find that medallion soon, you’re going down as the one who took it.”

Con shot him a look. “You know damn well I didn’t take it.”

“I don’t know anything.” He turned to leave, then paused. “I don’t even know how you got this job.”

He disappeared into the hall, leaving Con to examine the broken cabinet and search for clues that a second-rate thief might leave behind. There were none. An hour later, he’d finished reattaching the cabinet and headed to his own cabin, not bothering to lock the lab.

Paxton had taken all the treasure that day to the mainland, and the medallion was gone. He stepped out into the hall and stopped when he saw Lizzie sitting on the floor outside of his bunk.

She put down something she was reading. “You have a minute?”

He nodded, noticing that she’d showered, changed into a loose, blousy top, and looked even fresher and prettier than when he’d left her.

Standing, she held out a brown notebook he knew he wasn’t supposed to recognize but did. “I want to share something with you.”

Part of him was disappointed. The part that wanted to
seduce
the answers he wanted out of her.

“Come on in,” he said, unlocking his cabin. “Your reputation’s probably pretty trashed by now anyway.”

“Like I care.”

He shot her an appreciative smile. “Tough girl.”

“Seriously, I don’t care about these people.”

“One of whom is a fairly skilled thief.”

“At least now you know it’s not me.”

“Unless you’re working with someone,” he shot back.

“That was a pretty thorough distraction technique you employed up in your cabin.”

“You think that I
planned
that?”

“No,” he admitted. “You’re not quite that devious.”

She took the chair, her posture stiff and awkward. Was she nervous? “Don’t be so sure.”

He gave her a quizzical look and indicated the notebook. “What’s that?”

“My father’s journal.”

Lowering himself to the bunk, he leaned his elbows on his knees. “I’ve already got a good book going, so I guess you must have a reason for bringing this in here.”

She took a breath and nodded. “I was going to sleep with you.”

“Did you change your mind?” And what did it have to do with that journal?

“I changed my mind about you. I think you’re… one of the good guys.”

He laughed softly. “That’s what you call them now?”

“I mean, you can be trusted.”

That must have been some make-out session for her. It left him hard as a rock, but trustworthy? He was better at this than he thought.

“Con, I need some help.”

Her tone was dead serious, so he matched it. “For what?”

She held up the notebook. “Have you ever heard of a legendary ship called
El Falcone
?”

Whoa. He was
much
better than he thought. “I’ve heard the folklore.”

“Do you know the captain’s name?”

He searched his memory banks and the little information he’d read. Nowhere had a captain’s name been mentioned.

“His name was Aramis Dare,” she said, a look of absolute expectation on her face. When he didn’t respond, she leaned forward.

“Aramis
Dare
.”

“A relative of yours, I take it.”

“Yes, I am a direct descendant of Aramis, who was my great-times-something grandfather. His name isn’t known to many people in history, but those who do know it, and believe the legend of
El Falcone,
also believe him to be a pirate and a thief.”

“Was he?”

“I don’t know. I’d like to find out. More specifically, my father wanted to find out, and he was very close to doing just that when he died.” She handed him the notebook. “Quite a bit of it is in here. The information about
El Falcone,
a ship that carried two of the most spectacular diamonds ever mined, set atop matching royal scepters that were commissioned as a gift for King Luis I of Portugal and his bride, Maria Pia.”

He just listened, taking in the gleam in her topaz eyes.

“A few months before my father died, he went to Havana and scoured the libraries and manifests and old documents and found many answers, and plenty of questions. It was his lifelong mission to find out the truth, to salvage
El Falcone,
and, mostly, to clear Aramis Dare’s name and prove that he was no pirate; he was a merchant.”

“Okay. And… how are you fulfilling this mission?” He knew, of course, but wanted to hear her say it.

“My dad’s theory was that
El Falcone
wasn’t lost in a storm. It was shot by cannon fire, taken down by a man who was Aramis’s sworn enemy, a man who tried to renege on paying for the very scepters and diamonds he’d commissioned artisans to make.”

Con leaned back, considering what he should say.

She stared at him, that look of expectation brightening her eyes again. But she wasn’t going to say it. He’d have to.

“You think we’re salvaging
El Falcone
.”