Siren's Surrender (4 page)

Somehow one of the guards who’d accompanied Magaera through the sea-gate had gotten hold of him, sharing with him the Mers’ ability to breathe under water.

He’d regained consciousness, floating in a vast open sea in the middle of the night. But he wasn’t alone. Not by any means. Queen Magaera and her cadre were close by, keeping watch under a starry night sky at the surface of the sea. There was no way they were going to let him get out of sight. He was the only guide they had to surviving in the human world. As for what had happened to Tessa and Kenneth, he soon learned that they’d managed to make it back to the
DreamFever
just fine.

In fact, the ship was nowhere to be seen on the wide-open waters. It didn’t take much brainpower to figure out they’d left him behind.

So there he was, stuck in the middle of the freaking Mediterranean Sea with one pissed-off Mer queen and eight of her servants. Though the temple was in ruin, the sea-gate was still accessible. That was if you could make a dive three miles beneath the surface of the water. The Mer could handle that one just fine.

Right now things were at a stall. Tessa had slipped through their fingers. With her went control of the sea-gate.

A plan had to be made, and quickly. Which was kind of hard to do when floating in the middle of the fucking sea. Swimming in water for a few hours was one thing. Living in it for a few days was quite another.

Enter the Algerians, who were obliging enough to illegally drop him off on the beach of Kokkinos Pirgos. He couldn’t have asked for a more fortuitous place to come ashore. The beach was only fifty meters from a hotel, with taverns, a couple of cafés, and even a minimarket.

Arriving on the beach, Jake had no passport, no money, and his BlackBerry had shorted out after being submerged in the sea.

The one thing he did have was contacts.

His ex-partner in Recoveries, Inc., was a Greek man based in Crete. A simple phone call was followed by the arrival of a “friend of a friend,” who put a roof over his head and provided enough euros to replace his clothes. Forty-eight hours later, he was setting step two in motion.

It was amazingly easy to do when you already had the first part taken care of.

That would be the money. He had a good amount tucked away in a secret numbered account. One he could access from anywhere in the world. No passport or ID was required, and there were no limits on deposits or withdrawals. The account even came with a totally anonymous ATM card. All it took was a simple e-mail to have a new card sent out by overnight courier.

Jake had always suspected there would be a time when he would have to disappear, though he’d imagined the circumstances under which he’d have to go on the lam would be far different. Before his former partner had bowed out of Recoveries, Inc., they’d been involved in some illegal operations—namely artifact smuggling. Research and recovery wasn’t a cheap operation to enter into, and the cost of crew and equipment was astronomical.

Not all the money had gone back into the business.

 

 

He’d skimmed a bit here and there, socking it away for the proverbial rainy day. He’d continued to hide numerous dollars even after he’d bought out Niklos Sarantos and offered a partnership in the company to Kenneth Randall. Though Randall didn’t know it, Jake had also managed to siphon off $250,000 by charging Kenneth for equipment Recoveries, Inc., had already bought and paid for. All in all, he had $1.9 million in his little tax-free offshore shelter.

But that wasn’t the only deception Jake had tucked away for a rainy day.

The second part of any successful getaway was to know the wrong sort of people who ran the right sort of scams. A couple of years ago a nice chunk of his ill-gotten booty had gone to purchase a new—and legal—identity. Enter Jean Luc D’Marquis, a Canadian of French descent from Quebec. He’d chosen Canada because of its proximity to the United States and he could speak the language well enough to get around without arousing suspicion.

Unfortunately his looks had to change. His shoulder-length hair was banished, switched for a shorter, darker style. Nonprescription colored contacts changed the shade of his eyes to a striking gray.

But that didn’t mean Jake Massey had to stay dead forever. There was always a chance a miracle could occur.

Without a doubt Tessa would know that was possible. She and Kenneth had already done all they could to put some distance between themselves and the Mediterranean Sea. After the so-called “tragic diving accident” that had supposedly claimed Jake’s life, Kenneth Randall had shut down Recoveries, Inc., ceasing all operations.

Nobody was talking.

In this case, silence was golden.

And an opportunity to be taken advantage of.

Getting his old partner back hadn’t been difficult either. All it took was a couple more phone calls to Niklos and the two were back on the water. But this time the men weren’t seeking lost treasure or smuggling ill-gotten booty. No, the cargo they presently carried was a billion times more valuable and volatile than any other contraband they’d ever dealt in.

Mermaids.

And not just any mermaid, mind you, but a queen.

At $700,000, the yacht was a steal. Small enough not to arouse suspicion yet well-appointed enough to accommodate Magaera and the eight Mer who’d crossed through the sea-gate with her.

It had taken time to get the operation into motion. But Jake had done as he’d promised, securing a way for the Mer to get around safely without arousing suspicion. Like Magaera, his main objective was to get back to Maine.

A smirk lifted his lips.
I’ve still got a little score to settle with Tessa
.

Oh, yeah. He’d get even.

Tessa might think she held all the good cards, but she held a losing hand and could only bluff so long. In opening the sea-gate, she’d unleashed a race hungry for the taste of freedom. There was no going back now. Soon, very soon, people all around the globe would know about the Mer. He imagined the coverage would be massive, a media frenzy. And he, Jake Massey, would be the man at the center of the rediscovery and return of the mermaid.

Now that he had the proof, Jake savored the notion of payback. The fees he’d charge on the lecture circuit would be enormous. That is, if he had any time. A new age was about to dawn. And with a little cunning and determination, he would be able to reap the rewards of being the first human ambassador between mankind and the reemerging Mer. It was bound to be a lucrative gig, and he was determined to take every advantage.

Even if he had to lie, cheat, and steal to do so.

After all, it wasn’t like he hadn’t done it all before.

“I have waited long enough,” Magaera warned, her voice gravelly with impatience. “Every day the girl is out of my reach is one more day my people must wait for their freedom.”

Jake fingered his binoculars as he eyed the distant island. Located about a mile off the mainland, Little Mer was almost completely cut off from the outside world. The only communication system lay in the two-way radio located in the lighthouse. The isolation Tessa treasured would be her downfall.

“I don’t see why we shouldn’t do it right now,” he decided. “Send your best soldiers.”

Lips thinning, Magaera nodded. “I will send Arta Raisa and Doma Chiara. They are fierce in spirit and will not fail me.”

Jake knew that for a fact. Just like mermaids of legend and lore, the Mer were a bloodthirsty race. They bore no love for humans, considering them less than animals. If they found a human inferior, they enslaved or slaughtered them. Only a very few did they find acceptable enough for breeding.

Thank heavens he’d been one of the chosen.

“Send two more, just in case,” he stressed. “And remember we just want Tessa. She’s the only one we need.”

Queen Magaera’s blue eyes sparked with interest. She easily picked up the direction the conversation was heading in. “And her mate?”

Oh, yeah. Here was the chance he couldn’t miss. It was time for a little payback. In spades. He had disliked Kenneth Randall on sight. The man who’d taken his place in Tessa’s bed was tall and plain, a knuckle-dragging Neanderthal. That she’d rebuffed his attempt to get back together and chosen Kenneth over him burned him up into tiny cinders.

Kenneth wasn’t good enough for Tessa.

Jake’s eyes narrowed.
I want her again
. And he’d have Tessa, damn it. As a slave. To serve his every desire and decadent whim.

Desire trickled through his veins, warm and liquid. He liked that idea. A lot. The things a Mer could do in bed were wondrous.

And the tail. Oh, man. The tail
. . .

He couldn’t suppress the chuckle bubbling up in the back of his throat. “Get rid of Kenneth.” He bit through each word as though each were a deliciously tasty morsel. “I want him gone.”

 

B
lake Whittaker stood in the lobby. At this point in the morning, sleepy-eyed people were beginning to wander through on their way to breakfast. Though small, the hotel offered a continental breakfast, complete with a smiling attendant who poured the coffee and helped patrons navigate the complexities of the waffle machine.

Considering the fact he was about to make a trip across the water, Blake had skipped eating. For one thing, he considered it an abomination to get up early and immediately begin shoveling down a meal. For the second thing, he hated boats almost as much as he did the water. During the few times he’d had the displeasure of riding in one, he’d never failed to get sick. The last thing he wanted to do was puke his guts up in front of Gwen Lonike.

It wouldn’t look professional.

So even though he was dying for a cup or two of strong hot black coffee, he’d forgo the pleasure until after he’d returned to the mainland. He planned to grab a cup at some fast-food joint.

On my way out of this hellhole,
came his dark thought.

“Port Rock,” he mumbled under his breath. “Born here, raised here. Won’t look back when I leave here.”

He checked his watch again: 7:05. His tour guide was one late lady.

Blake glanced toward the front desk. A thin woman with frizzy blond hair and splotchy red skin was busy with customers. The elusive Gwen had vanished. She hadn’t been behind the desk when he’d come down from his room, ten minutes before the hour she’d agreed to meet him.

He was just about to amble over and bother the clerk when the door to the manager’s office opened.

Purse slung over one shoulder, Gwen Lonike hurried out to join him. She carried a large travel-capped coffee mug. “Sorry,” she said, blurting out her apology. “I needed a minute to wash my face and comb my hair.” She flicked a damp strand away with a distracted hand. “I’m ready when you are.”

Trying not to stare, Blake gave her a quick once-over. Though her clothes were the same as she’d worn last night, she looked fresh and crisp. A fitted white blouse hugged her breasts and narrow waist. Black slacks accentuated her long, sleekly muscled legs. Lustrous red hair cut in a modern shoulder-brushing shag framed her pert face. She wore no cosmetics. Didn’t need them, either. Nature had given her thick black lashes and full red lips, along with a smattering of cute freckles across her upturned nose. All together she looked absolutely adorable. Her only accessory was a small crystal pendant, which hung from a delicate gold chain around her neck.

A two-ton anvil could have landed on his head and he wouldn’t have noticed. Last night he’d been too tired and distracted to give her a second glance. Now he was looking closer, and he liked what he saw.

His inner temperature rising, Blake felt a shiver clamor up his spine. The fine hairs on the back of his neck stood up. His skin suddenly felt hot and too taut to stretch over his bones. There was a definite reaction going on, one he hadn’t felt in a long time.

He caught a whiff of the light scent she’d recently spritzed her clothing with to freshen it. The smell of crisp fresh pears almost made his mouth water. Desire sped through his brain. Though he usually didn’t get too worked up over a nice-looking female, there was something about this one that definitely set his male antennae to humming. He couldn’t quite put his finger on what it was, but Gwen seemed different from other women.

Special
.

It was an impression that didn’t occur to him very often when a woman was concerned. But now that it had, he was finding it difficult to shake the notion.

Blake gave himself another minute to savor the attraction, then firmly put a mental foot on it and tamped it down. He wasn’t here to make friends or flirt. He was a federal agent, investigating this woman’s sister and brother-in-law. He’d have to forego her appeal and keep things impersonal. All he wanted were the facts.

Cold, hard, plain, simple facts.

Blake reached in his shirt pocket for his shades. “Lead the way.” He slipped them on, glad for a chance to hide behind their impenetrable shield. It was too damn bad he had to be in town on business.

If there was one thing he loved, it was the chase. He generally didn’t have any problem with the conquering part either. It was the aftermath that usually landed him in hot water, the part that involved walking out and shutting the door behind him. He rarely remembered a woman’s name and never looked her up a second time. Forgetting was less complicated.

Except he doubted he’d be able to shove Gwen Lonike out of his mind. He normally didn’t go for redheads, nor could he even put his finger on the source of his attraction. But he knew enough to recognize the warning signs when he saw them.

He gave himself a rigid mental shake.
Not going to happen.

He had sex merely to satisfy the physical. Nothing more. He purposely kept his distance from any romantic entanglements, preferring to keep his heart under lock and key. No one, especially a woman, would ever make him feel small, weak, or afraid ever again. He might go to bed alone, but at least he’d be able to sleep at night.