Make Her Pay (7 page)

“What?”

“That flash.”

“Lightning?”

She gave him a look like he was crazy. “That. Did you see that?”

He did, and it wasn’t lightning. He bounded off the bed out to the salon, onto the deck just as it flashed again.

“Motherfucker,” he mumbled. “Someone’s out there. Taking pictures of our boat and location. Shit.”

Alita was next to him in a second. “I don’t see a boat. It’s pitch-black.”

“Someone’s found us.” His stomach rolled. If their location got out, Judd would be down here in a heartbeat. That’d screw up everything.

On the other hand, he already had a buyer for the medallion, and this gig was going to be up soon.

“What are you going to do?” she asked.

Do? Why the fuck did he have to do anything? Because he was the company manager on the dive and had to do something. Or act like he was.

He puffed his chest up with a deep inhale. “I’m going over to the boat.”

“They could be pirates.”

Jesus. “They could be poachers. Or someone from the state trying to figure out what we’re doing here.” Or, he hoped, some ambitious fisherman he could scare off. If not, he’d avoid them altogether. “You stay here. No one knows you’re here. Just get back in bed and stay low. I’ll check it out.”

“Are you sure?” She looked up at him, a little of the admiration he wanted to see back in her eyes.

“Of course I’m sure.” He headed back to the stateroom, on the way glancing at the cabinet where he’d hidden the medallion before she showed up. That
had
to go tomorrow.

He dressed, counting three more flashes. Feeling protective and strong, he gave her a kiss and headed out, climbing into the motorized raft that he hoped would make enough noise to scare them off. He moved very slowly, taking his time to close the hundred and fifty feet between his boat and the
Gold Digger
.

The whole time, there were no more flashes. Approaching the boat head-on to the stern, he went around the starboard side, even though he thought the flash had come from the port side. Slowly, he cruised alongside of the vessel, which looked completely still and dark. When he got back to the stern, he braced himself, but saw nothing. A few of the rafts tied up. The deck quiet. The starboard side looking completely calm.

Could it have been lightning?

He continued around the boat, reaching back with one hand to steer the raft, the motor puttering softly. Suddenly he saw some movement on the deck.

“Flynn?” a woman’s voice called.

“Is that you, Lizzie?”

“What are you doing out there?” she asked.

“I thought I saw some flashes. Thought someone was taking pictures of our location and I came to investigate.”

“Really? I didn’t see anything and I’ve been out here for a while. Maybe you imagined it.”

No, he didn’t imagine it, and he had Alita as a witness. But he wasn’t about to tell her that. He maneuvered around as she aimed a flashlight onto the water.

“There’s no one here.” The sea was indeed empty as far as the beam of light showed. She swiped over the water, all the way to the black horizon. Nothing.

“That’s strange,” he said. “Are you sure no one boarded?”

“Absolutely. I’ve been sitting out here for a while now. Can’t sleep.”

Would she be out there taking pictures? No, that didn’t make sense. “Well, you ought to,” he said, working the raft around. “You have to dive tomorrow morning.”

“I know. I was just on my way to my cabin when I heard the motor.”

“I’ll check out the rest of the perimeter of the boat,” he said, sounding brave, and actually feeling that way now.

“All right. G’night.” She disappeared into the shadows of the deck, and he took a few more minutes to circle the whole boat again.

By the time he tied up the raft to his cabin cruiser, he was wide awake and ready for sex. Feeling heroic, strong, and ready for another round, he bounded back to the stateroom, hard for Alita.

She must have liked his heroics since she barely asked any questions, fucked him for a good half hour, then dressed and left, a happy little camper.

Life was good, and he’d soon be a couple hundred grand richer. Screwing Judd the Dud had become his favorite pastime.

CHAPTER EIGHT

CON HOISTED HIMSELF up over the dive platform, not even shivering, although he had to be freezing without a wet suit, even that short distance. Lizzie stepped out of the shadows, searching to see if he had anything in his hands. If he managed to find that medallion, then she was certain she’d picked the right man for the job.

“Did you get it?” she asked, slipping down to the dive platform.

He lifted his hand.

Oh, yes. The absolute right man. She wanted to reach for the medallion, but she couldn’t resist getting closer to him, feeling the waves of cold from his skin, and flattening her hands on his bare chest. She knew how much that kind of cold hurt, but he didn’t seem fazed, except to let out a soft grunt when her hands made contact.

“Come on, let’s go,” he said, moving her back into the darkest part of the deck and toward the stairs. “My cabin. Now.”

She kept up with his long strides back to his cabin, him dripping water from his bathing suit and body, but still not giving in to what she knew had to be the urge to just shudder with the bone-deep chill of swimming in the ocean on a November night. He unlocked the hatch and nudged her in without a word.

“Let me see-”

He yanked her right into his chest, pulling out a shocked breath from her, his flesh cold even through the thickness of her fleece sweatshirt.

“God, you’re warm.” He nearly moaned the words, squeezing her tighter.

She understood instantly and obliged by wrapping her arms around him, rubbing her hands over the hard muscles of his back. She’d dived without a wet suit before, and human contact was like heaven to the whole body.

“Why don’t you take a hot shower?” she suggested.

He just shook his head and pressed himself against her from head to toe. “This is much better. You’re like a human heating pad.”

He punctuated that with a little more pressure on her legs and hips, riding her enough to dry his skin on her clothes. She curled one of her legs around his, using the warm cotton of her sweatpants to dry and warm his thigh and calf.

He sighed again, sliding one more time as if he could wipe his whole body with her warmth.

“You better let me have that damn medallion since you are totally taking advantage of this situation,” she teased.

He backed up just enough to reveal his open palm. And the gold.

“Oh.” She let out the word in a little breath of air. “I told you Flynn was the thief.”

“You were right. He’s a thief and more.”

Her eyes bugged. “He had
more
treasure in there?”

“Depends on how you define treasure. This piece wasn’t worth much, in my opinion.” At her look, he lifted a brow. “Did you know he was sleeping with Alita?”

“Alita? Did she see you?”

“No, she stayed in the stateroom and this was in the salon. Not very creatively hidden, either.”

“Alita.” She shook her head. “I never picked up that vibe from either of them.”

“It explains how he knew exactly where that medallion was hidden. She told him after I showed her, so they’re a team.”

“Why did you show her, anyway?”

“To test her.” He bent over, rubbing his legs. “She failed.”

“What do you think’ll happen when Flynn discovers it’s gone?”

He shrugged. “He won’t have the nerve to nail me on it, and the crew will assume whoever stole it had second thoughts and returned it. Maybe he’ll think Alita double-crossed him.”

She took the gold with her to the edge of the bunk, sitting down to admire it. “They’re scum, both of them. And him, stealing from his own stepfather. I told you their relationship is a mess.” She turned to him, her smile widening. “And now I’ve won the bet.”

He stood up and pulled a canvas duffel bag from under the bed, dragging out a pair of jeans and taking them into the head. He didn’t close the door, giving her a perfect view of his backside as he shoved off his wet bathing suit and gave himself a cursory rub with a towel.

God, the man had a beautiful body. He stepped into the jeans, pulling them over his bare hips, giving the zipper a half tug that didn’t make it to the top, not bothering to snap.

The medallion forgotten, she stared at his bare chest, the cuts of muscles disappearing into the jeans, the bit of dark hair peeking out from the half-zipped fly. Her throat went bone dry.

“So we dive tomorrow night,” he said, approaching the bunk slowly.

What was he talking about? Diving. Gold. Scepters.

That’s why she was in this room, eating up her new partner with her eyes. She lifted the medallion and laid it against her chest as though it could help slow her rapidly increasing heartbeat.

“I dive tomorrow night,” she corrected. “You work the air hose and cover my ass.”

He reached the bed, looking down at her. “
I
dive tomorrow night,” he countered. “
You
work the air hose and cover
my
ass.”

She started to stand up. “No way. I know where it is.”

He put his hand on her chest, over the medallion, and eased her all the way down. “You can show me tomorrow. We dive together first thing in the morning.”

“You can’t change the rules, Con.”

Smiling, he took the medallion, grazing it over her breasts with a wicked gleam in his eye. “I can do anything I want.”

Wordlessly, he laid the medallion on the nightstand and in one smooth move, was back on the bed, kneeling over her, his knees sliding right between hers. “And since I can do anything I want” -a zing shot straight up her body-“I’m going to dive for the scepter tomorrow night.”

He loomed over her, bare-chested, practically unzipped, exuding sex and control and power… and changing the rules.

Her fingers curled into the thin blanket under her, awareness flaring through her.

“It’s a dangerous dive,” he said, easing her legs open a fraction with his. “It’ll be dark, with no blower.”

That was true. “But if I do it,” she said, managing not to let her voice crack, “I’ll be down and back in seven or eight minutes. I know exactly what to do. I’ve visualized it.”

“I’ve visualized it, too.” He leaned over her, putting his hands on either side of her, letting his weight drop so that his biceps tightened. “And I’m making the dive.”

His face was very close, his gaze fierce, his lips almost curled in a smile.

“You can’t do this.”

His smile said he could. “I know your secrets now, Lizzie. And you need me.”

Need.
That was one word to describe the heat in her body. “That doesn’t give you the right to take over my plans. I’m in charge of this and you’re following my instructions.” She put a hand on his chest, his skin still icy from the water, but he just pressed himself closer.

“I’ll dive. You work the hose. And we…” He closed the space and brushed her mouth with his. “Will be partners. How’s that?”

Partners. What kind of partners?

“The kind Alita and Flynn are?” Onboard lovers. Right now, it sounded really good.

“Way better.” He kissed her again, a little more potent this time, enough to intensify the need between her legs and make her whole body want to rise up and meet his.

He opened his mouth, breathed into hers, and kneed her legs open one more inch. Every cell screamed more. Every inch of her wanted to bow her back, and feel all that hardness against her.

He rose just a little, as though tempting her higher, luring her.

Glancing down, she saw the tip of his hard penis threatening to burst out of the half-zipped jeans. Her mouth almost watered.

Very slowly, he stood, his abdomen clenching as he straightened, his gaze right on hers. He put his hands on the zipper and her eyes dropped, watching, waiting, anticipating the scrape of the teeth as he freed himself. She tried to breathe, but all she could do was watch his fingers, his flesh.

He was going to do this. He was going to…

Zip up
.

He closed the jeans, snapped, and reached out a hand to her. “You better get some rest, Lizzie. We dive early. And late.”

She let out a breath and relaxed her elbows enough to drop an inch. “Don’t ever do that to me again.”

“What? Change your game plan?”

In one move, she rolled off the bed, away from the trap of his legs and steel slice of his gaze. “Don’t tease me. I don’t like it.”

She was halfway into the hall when she heard him whisper, “Neither do I.”

Speaking of changing the game plan… Con hadn’t called Lucy once since he got on this boat.

Puffing a breath full of frustration, he double-locked the door and waited until Lizzie’s footsteps disappeared and the ache in his groin lessened a little. Very little.

Let’s see, Lucy had, what? Four rules for this assignment?

Check in every day
. Nope, hadn’t called once.

Report anything suspicious
. Everything was suspicious.

Turn in anyone he found stealing
. Or, just steal it back.

Inform the client of any crewmember who might know the wreck they were diving was El Falcone. Not
aid and abet her plans to ruin Judd Paxton’s recovery effort by assisting in a secret ploy to steal the most coveted artifact on the dive, remove it from the premises, and hide it on the mainland.

After blowing every rule she’d set out for him, sex with a target who had a personal vendetta against the client and a plan to ruin the entire dive probably wasn’t going to make a dent on his already battered employee evaluation.

But that wasn’t what stopped him from doing what he-and Lizzie-wanted to do. At least he could admit that truth.

Running his hand through his hair, he grabbed the satellite phone, dropped onto the bed, inhaled enough to get a whiff of Lizzie’s perfume, and dialed.

She answered on the first ring. “You didn’t call yesterday.”

He laughed softly at the greeting. “So that rumor’s true.”

“There are a lot of them. Which rumor are you testing?”

“That Lucy Sharpe answers her private line 24/7.”

“For now it is,” she said. “But you’ve probably heard the rumor that my 24/7 days are numbered.”

He’d heard she was pregnant but doubted that would slow her down much. “Until they are, I’m afraid I have to take advantage and wake you to tell you what’s going on here.”

“It’s about time. I told you to check in daily.” “Trust me, Luce, that’s the least of the regs I’ve been wrecking.”

“Great.”

In the background he heard movement and a soft comment from a man. Jack Culver, her partner in every way. He waited, imagining the lithe, long-haired woman leaving her bed to walk down the hall to her office.

“All right. Talk to me, Con.”

“There is someone on this boat who knows we’re salvaging
El Falcone
, and she’s already located one of the diamonds, kept it for herself, is planning to do the same with the scepter it was separated from, then is going to take it to the mainland and hide it until the other is found.”

“Whoa. Good work. Nice and fast, too. Who is it and what’s your plan?”

“Elizabeth Dare.”

She waited a beat. “And your plan?”

“My plan is to help her recover the scepter and help her hide it on the mainland.”

She was stone silent.

“Because she’s not the person he’s looking for.”

“She’s not? Sounds like she is.”

“She’s not. She does have an agenda and it isn’t friendly to Paxton, but she’s not stealing any treasure.”

“You just said she has one of the diamonds and scepters.”

“Any
other
treasure. The leak of treasure and information is Flynn Paxton, aided by Alita Holloway. I just went to great pains-swimming in cold water and testing my exemplary ‘recovery’ skills-to prove that, taking something back that he’d stolen earlier this evening.”

It was quiet, but for a paper shuffling in the background. “Elizabeth Dare is the daughter of the late Malcolm Dare,” she said.

“She’s not our target, Lucy. Her issues are personal and family driven. I can keep an eye on her.”

“Sounds like you already have been.”

Resentment bubbled. “Not to the point of blindness,” he shot back. “If I don’t work with her, she’ll do what she wants anyway. This way, I know exactly where the treasures are and have her under my thumb.”

“That’s a plan, although not my first choice. What about Flynn?”

“Depends. How will our client take finding out the thief and traitor is his stepson?”

“Hard to say. They have a volatile history, and Judd’s trying to mend fences with him. They’ve had a rocky relationship since Judd married Flynn’s mother about ten years ago. Giving him responsibility for this dive is Judd’s way of showing he thinks Flynn has potential to run the business, but in my opinion, Judd has no real intention of leaving his fortunes and reputation to his stepson.”

“Flynn probably knows that and is taking what he can get, when he can get it,” Con said, encouraged by Lucy’s willingness to see the whole story and not jump to the obvious conclusions. “If anyone has an outside contact and is selling items taken from this dive before they get logged into the Paxton system, it’s Flynn.”

“But you’re certain it’s not this lovely blonde with big brown eyes and a sexy body?”

“You have a picture or you taking an educated guess?”

She laughed softly. “I guessed on the body.”

“And correctly. What’s probably not in that file is why she’s doing it, of her family’s connection to the ship.
El Falcone
was captained by Aramis Dare, her great-times-seven or so grandfather. She’s on a personal mission to finish her father’s life’s work. Nothing nefarious.”

“Except stealing a priceless treasure and taking it off the boat to hide it.”

“Okay, a little nefarious. But I don’t want you to get all bent out of shape over Lizzie when the real target is Flynn. I just need a little more time to prove it, since Judd will undoubtedly want a lot of irrefutable evidence against a family member. While I’m at it, I think it’s smart to be sure that diamond gets off this boat, along with the scepter, and that I know exactly where it is so I can return it to the client when we’re done.”