Undertow

To the awesome, talented, and creative women of my Cherry·s Lake
Plotters: Carol, Christina, Ciara,
Dragon, Heather, Julia, Kelli, Kristine, Laurie,
Rebecca, and Shelli.

Thank you from the bottom of my heart for your friendship, and for letting me
pick the fruit.

Acknowledgments

An enormous thanks goes to the fol owing people for their help with al the research necessary to bring
Undertow
to life. Any inaccuracies, gaffes, oversights, or lapses in the details are mine, al mine.

Dr. Lubos Kordac [email protected]

Janel e Wolf Cryptologist Technician First Class, US Navy Maria Drybread of RingPower.com

Daniel Randal Lieutenant Commander, US Navy CTR1 (SW/AW) And last, but not least, to my extremely knowledgeable friend Tina Cal ais.

Teal Wil iams looked like an unmade bed, and not one Zane Cutter wanted to sleep in. She·d been foisted off on him by her father, so he was pretty much stuck with her. But seeing her again made him realize she couldn·t have been more tailor-made for his needs if she·d been special ordered.

Tal , skinny, and nondescript, Teal slouched, half hidden behind his brother Nick, at the other end of the long antique table. She chewed on her thumbnail as she glared at him from beneath shaggy, dark brown ba ngs.

He bit back a grin. Oh, man. Not only did she have the sex appeal of a mop, she didn·t like him at al . A novelty he only appreciated today.

He wasn·t attracted to her.
At all
. Not a spark. Not an ember of desire. Not a scintil a of interest. Nada.

A master marine mechanic
and
a woman he
wasn·t
attracted to
?

Unprecedented. But
exactly
what he needed.

Ńo,µ she repeated, enunciating clearly, meeting him eyebal to eyebal without a blink. Í wil
not
go with you.µ

´You
won·t
?µ Zane³known as Ace to the ladies³looked at the new Cutter Cay mechanic. It had been a long time since a woman had told him no. Probably before he hit puberty.

Her look said Áre you a deaf moron?µ but she answered politely enough.

´Would you like me to repeat that in another language? I know three.µ

Ah, pure Wil iams smart-ass, too. She was a real chip off the paternal block.

Her short hair looked as though she·d cut it herself with a pair of blunt scissors, and it clearly hadn·t seen a comb in a week. She·d obviously slept in the baggy, crumpled khaki pants and faded blue chambray man·s shirt, and her nails were bitten to the quick. And if he wasn·t mistaken³and Zane rarely was where women were concerned³she was wearing men·s work boots on her size large feet, which were tucked out of sight under the table.

Her arms were folded in an ánd that·s finalµ gesture over her chest. A pair of double Ds could disappear under that voluminous shirt undetected, though her slim build suggested a more manageable size. Amused at her attitude and her complete lack of feminine wiles, Zane shot her his most charming, engaging smile, the one tha t had landed him in many a bed. It was met with stony indifference.

She was a fucking miracle! He wanted her on his payrol and refused to take no for an answer.

´How about a pay hike of ten percent to sweeten the pot?µ

´Ten?µ

He would·ve paid twice that. Ókay. Fifteen.µ

Ńo thanks.µ Her lips tightened. Í have al the money I need.µ

Her father, the Cutters· lifelong friend and resident mechanic, had recently been diagnosed with cancer. Sam and Logan had put their heads together and offered Teal the jo b so she could spend some time with Sam while he was stil around. No good deed went unpunished, Zane thought, wondering why the hel she·d accepted their offer only to refuse the first assignment. ´Do you have a reason?µ he asked easily, intrigued, in spite of himself, by her bel igerence.

Logan and Nick, the best brothers a guy could ask for, maintained their neutral expressions, but Zane felt their surprise at her refusal to go with him on his salvage. Diego Zamora, one of their captains, studied the ceiling fan while Brian Donahue, Cutter Salvage·s head marine archeologist, stared out the window at the water rather than give away their entertainment at his impasse. Zane appreciated their efforts as he fought to capture his stubborn prize.

Í·m a master marine mechanic with over ten years· experience,µ Teal informed him in a flat, emotionless voice. Í·ve worked on every make, model, and size of engine. Diesel or gas. I can get a job³
on dry land
³anywhere in the world.µ

´Dry land? You·re aware you accepted a job on an island, right?µ

Í was told I·d have my own bungalow. I like my privacy. There·s no privacy on a boat.µ

The building where they were meeting had seen its share of business deals, and this wouldn·t be the last. Nicknamed the Counting House f or obvious reasons the two-story wood structure looked as though the next tropical hurricane would blow it away. But like Zane·s boat, its looks were deceiving.

Here they compared notes at the end of a salvage operation, drank beer, told tal tales, and this was where the fifty or so permanent island residents gathered for birthday parties, hurricanes, and funerals. The sturdy building had been constructed by his father to store his priceless treasure when he·d bought the private island thirty -some years before. The Counting House was where the Cutters and their other salvors brought multimil ions of dol ars· worth of salvaged treasure to be cleaned, cataloged, and sorted by Brian and his team of highly experienced marine archeologists. The building had to b e, and was, as secure as Fort Knox.

No privacy on the
Decrepit
was one of the things Zane enjoyed most. He knew his crew better than he knew some of his friends. Come to think of it, other than his brothers, his team
were
his best friends.

´What did you think you were hired for?µ Zane asked mildly. Ćutter
Salvage
?

Boats?
µ

´To fil in for Sam while he·s « out.µ The pause was infinitesimal. Her chin jutted out, daring him to knock that damned giant chip off her shoulder. ´Here on the island.µ

His lips twitched. She was a real piece of work. ´That·s why I need you. To keep her going.µ

Everyone said he was a lucky guy. He·d never struggled to fit in, he had a family he loved, good friends, and more money than he could spend in his lifetime. Women adored hi m. Hel

, even little girls and old ladies gravitated toward him. He wore his good fortune slung around his shoulders like a magic cloak.

He took in the defiant jut of her jaw and the go -to-hel glint in her eyes. Í·ve got to have a top-notch mechanic,µ Zane told her cheerful y. She might not like him, but according to her father, she had a thing for sick engines. Perfect. ´You were hired to be that mechanic. We leave in the morning.µ He looked at his oldest brother.

´Didn·t she sign a contract, Logan?µ

Logan·s eyes glinted with amusement, but his expression didn·t change. Śhe did, Ace.µ

´You·l like the
Decrepit,
µ Zane assured her, his good mood rising exponential y the more tenacious and determined she became. God, he just loved a chal enge.

Got his blood pumping and put a fire in his bel y. A great way to start a new salvage.

He felt alive. Invincible.

´
The
Decrepit
.µ Teal glanced disdainful y out the window to the marina, and his beloved boat, showing her surprisingly delicate profile. Sn ooty little nose, pugnacious jaw, crazy hair. She turned back to give him an unfriendly look from beneath that mop of hair half obscuring her face. Śhould be scrapped. Buy yourself a nice shiny
new
boat like your brothers. Then you wouldn·t need a round -the-clock mechanic.µ

´Maybe I wil .µ He fol owed her gaze to look beyond the large windows and prow-shaped, cantilevered deck, to the marina. A dozen sailboats and four large dive boats bobbed gently on aquamarine water. The rust-streaked hul of his
Decrepit
stood out like a sore thumb against the gleaming white of the other boats.

He smiled.

He liked the wel -worn look of her, including the battered yel ow crane perched like a praying mantis on her bow. Oh yeah. Inside the
Decrepit
was a different story. It amused the hel out of him that his shitty -looking boat was a sore spot with his brothers. He enjoyed people underestimating him. He loved his boat, and had no intention of replacing her. Ever.

Beauty was in the eye of the beholder. Zane loved every screw, nut, and rust spot.

Stil smiling, he turned his gaze back to his problem, and added easily, ´But not until after this season. Besides, you might be surprised. Looks can be deceiving.µ

She gave him the evil eye. Í·ve found that looks can be
confirming
. The answer is stil no.µ

He wisely suppressed a smile. She was a hard nut, but he remained confident.

She had al the skil s he required and none of the distractions. Just a month of her working on the current engine. Sam had known how to keep the old girl running and had assured Zane that Teal could do the same.

He read the tension along Teal·s tough jawline. Everybody wanted something.

He just had to figure out what it was she wanted. ´The pay is more than fair. What more do you want?µ

Á Shetland pony.µ

Her unexpected, dry sense of humor, done with a perfectly straight face, was a bonus.

´
Seriously
. What
do
you want?µ

Ńot to go with you.µ

Zane gritted his teeth. ´Besides that.µ

She glared at Logan, who sat across from her. ´Have someone take me to Tortola. I never agreed to work on that piece of floating crap out there. Keep me on the island or send me home.µ

´You haven·t even seen your father yet,µ his middle brother Nick pointed out, trying to keep a straight face.

Í·l wave to him on my way out to the helipad.µ

Jesus. Insulting his precious boat was bad enough, but that was cold. Sam was terminal y il .

Zane suspected Teal·s father, a taciturn man, was looking forward to spending some quality time with his only child ³not that Sam had said the words.

The hop, skip, and jump distance to the wreck site would make their reunion possible.

Ĺisten,µ he said reasonably. Ít won·t be a ful month away. You can come and check on your dad whenever you like.µ

Zane remembered Teal as a child. Vaguely. He·d seen her around the island now and then when she·d come for her annual two-week school vacations. She·d been a shy little thing, always darting off when he went to see Sam. Skinny and plain even back then.

Í·m not going.µ She·d gotten over the
shy,
though. In spades.

Ćhopper·s already gone back to Tortola,µ Zane told her. Í·l be stopping by there tomorrow for supplies.µ

Teal tossed her bangs back and he got a good look at her large, dark eyes.

Pretty. Too bad her hair covered everything but the angry glitter. Ánd you·l drop me off?µ

Ńo. You·l be continuing on to St. Maarten with the rest of the team.µ

´Hasn·t anyone ever told you no?µ Teal scowled at him, then turned the scowl on his oldest brother. ´You hired me as a mechanic for Cutter Cay; you didn·t say anything about going out to sea. He can·t force me to go with him.µ

Ńo, he can·t,µ Logan assured her. ´You can leave of your own free wil ; you·re not an indentured servant. I·l tear up your contract right now if yo u real y don·t want the job. But I think your father deserves to know why you·re changing your mind.

He·s the one who recommended you to fil his position.µ

Her shoulders tensed under the baggy shirt. ´He di ³µ She gripped the edge of the table. Í

want the
job
. Mechanic.
Here.
On Cutter Cay, where I can see Sam whenever he wants to be seen. I do not want to go to sea in a boat that wil more than likely need sa lvaging before the season·s over.µ

She was dead serious. Zane acknowledged a mil isecond of panic. He·d spent four long, painstaking years searching for the Dutch frigate,
Vrijheid
. He·d final y found her. A hundred miles off the coast of St. Maarten. Right in his own backyard ³right under his nose for God·s sake! Would have found it sooner if it hadn·t been hiding in some bizarre navigational dead zone, a stretch of sea where his navigational and detecting equipment tended to go on the fritz, if they worked at al .