Vortex (Cutter Cay) (20 page)

The storm had dashed her against the only reef this far-off land for fifty miles. She lay on her side, her hull ripped open from stem to stern. Her cannon had scattered a distance from where they’d been positioned. Time and the tides had untidily rearranged her so there was a debris field a mile long.

They’d already found gold bars, a few good-sized emeralds, and hundreds of gold chains. The big prize was the uncut emeralds the captain of the
Nuestra Señora de Garza
had meticulously noted on his manifest. Those, they hadn’t found. Yet.

Logan and his brothers had an ongoing bet. Whoever found the biggest haul had the privilege of running Cutter Salvage for the year, and a ten-grand cash prize. A drop in the bucket when one considered the sheer magnitude of their finds, but it made for an interesting competition.

It was fortunate that he’d always gotten the biggest haul, because Logan had no intention of giving up control of Cutter Salvage. The plus of that was, Nick and Zane would hate doing what he loved to do. It was a win-win. Still, he’d be happy to take ten grand from each of them—
again
—when he went home to see what the hell his brothers had managed to get themselves into.

Vanek pointed, and Logan shifted the blower where he indicated, keeping it steady as sand and small debris swirled around them.

He and Dani’s kiss had shaken him to the nth degree, but the call that followed had splintered that euphoria and brought him down to earth with a solid thud.

If her story about her family’s connection to the emerald bowl held true, he didn’t doubt Daniela had been named for the ship. But there was also a possibility that she wasn’t who she claimed to be. Daniela Rosado might not even be her real name.

Damn, how much more convoluted could this be? Logan liked simple. Straightforward.
Nothing
about his mermaid was uncomplicated. But hell, he’d known
that
before Nick offered him an interesting set of facts and left him to connect the dots.

Her mother had been born and raised in a small farming town south of Lima, father in South Dakota. His brother had offered specific place names of towns, but Logan was more interested in Daniela’s immediate past than her heritage.

“Okay, think that’ll do it. Turn her off.” Vanek spoke over the noise. His voice came through the mic in Logan’s headset as if he was speaking directly into his brain. Logan snapped back to his surroundings and shut his musings off for the time being. They waited for the crap in the water to settle before checking to see what, if anything, they’d unearthed.

His brother had given Logan a number to call if he wanted discreet inquiries made. Surprised at himself, Logan had called the number without a second’s thought. The call had clearly been rerouted several times, and he was told the nameless man would call him right back. The guy had called him five minutes later. And then again a couple of hours ago.

Daniela Rosado owned a successful art gallery in DC. Her passion was for talented new artists. In a small shop inside the gallery, she sold one-of-a-kind, locally made Peruvian artifacts. She was fiscally solvent. Owned the building housing her gallery and shop in an upscale neighborhood, and drove both an SUV and a Mercedes. Paid her taxes on time, and had a healthy balance in her bank account.

She was engaged to Senator Victor Stamps.

Man probably kissed hands and shook babies and looked charming doing it. Fine upstanding fucking citizen and shoo-in for president.

While he wasn’t happy with what he’d learned, Logan couldn’t see anything in that charmed life that gave him any insight into the real question: Who had put the wariness and fear in those big brown eyes? Her father? The senator? Her cousins? And why in fucking hell was a woman in line for First Lady dumped overboard in the middle of nowhere, left to die?

For a man who didn’t normally give a shit about answers, he sure as hell had a lot of questions.

His brother Zane asked a million questions of everyone. He was interested.

Nick could wear a T-shirt that stated, No Questions Answered Here.

And Logan’s motto was, Don’t Know. Don’t Care.

“Hey, man,” Vanek gave Logan a worried look through his mask. “You okay?”

Logan gave him a thumbs-up.

The senator from Massachusetts was at the end of his six-year term, and it was rumored he’d be running for president in the next election. The groundswell of support said he had a damn good chance of winning. He was young, handsome, charming, and wealthy.

Logan loathed his guts sight unseen.

Damn it to hell, Daniela would make an amazing First Lady.

Vanek touched his arm to get his attention; apparently yelling in his ear hadn’t done the trick. “Buddy, you look like crap. Let’s send the next team down to check that out. Go have a breather.”

“Sorry, just thinking.” Which at this depth, and in this environment, was not only stupid, but dangerous. Not just for himself, but for his partner. Logan shoved his speculation and opinions of the unknown senator out of his head. “I’m good. Let’s see what we have.”

Five fat bass lazily swam between them as chunks of vegetation and coral swirled in the water like a slo-mo whirlwind. Logan and Vanek angled down into the crater made by the blower, where items from
La Daniela
had scattered four hundred years ago.

The Czech grabbed his arm, and pointed. “Oh, man, lookit!”

Logan had already seen. Normally his heart would’ve sped up in anticipation. The area was ripe with a variety of treasure. The cannons were a given, but they’d leave those on the seabed. The rest were the spoils of the
Sea Wolf.
Scattered gold coins glinted in whatever light caught them, but it was the pile of tangled chains that drew the two divers over for a closer look.

The large box in which the jewels had been encased had long since been mostly devoured by toledo worms, but the overall shape of the container remained, making it look as though the chains and coins were encased in an invisible container.

He and Vanek hauled several baskets onto the dive platform, then gave Jed and Cooper their turn. At a rough estimate, the haul from this dive alone was worth a quarter mil on today’s market.

A good day for everyone.

*   *   *

He’d called her
Dani.

Maybe she’d misheard.

No. He’d
definitely
called her Dani.

Daniela glanced through the window of the great room to where the guys were gathered, as they usually were, at the table near the dive platform. It was dusk; warm, and fragrant with the savory smell of the steaks Galt was cooking on the grill. Her tummy rumbled. It had been months since she’d felt anything as normal as hunger. Either kind.

She’d wanted to leave right after their run. Then it had been after lunch. Then it had been getting dark and she hadn’t wanted anyone to take her to shore so late.

She’d leave first thing in the morning.

The television was on low. She didn’t need sound. The control was in her hand so that if anyone strolled in, she could switch to
Sleepless in Seattle
instead of CNN.

Victor wasn’t getting any airtime. Good.

How had Logan discovered her real name? She knew damn well she hadn’t dropped any clues.

He really was a dangerous man.

The dangerous man walked past the window outside and stepped through the door. “Dinner’s ready.”

Daniela unwound her legs and got to her feet. “Good,” she said a little too brightly. “I’m starving. Where’s Auggie?”

Logan’s smile was easy as he stuck his fingertips into the front pockets of his jeans. His hair was slicked back, still wet from a recent shower. His face was smooth from a recent shave. Lickable.

Only a couple of table lamps were lit, and his eyes looked like sapphires, dancing with humor. “I’m presuming you’re referring to the animal formally known as Dog? He’s been sent to his room for stealing your steak.”

She walked around the arm of the sofa, waiting for him to shift out of the way so she could get to the open door. He stayed planted. She stared him down. “Who said it was
my
steak?”

“Everyone whose steak it wasn’t.” He held out his hand, palm up. “Come on, I’ll share.”

Daniela hesitated. He seemed perfectly at ease and relaxed, but there was … an edge to him tonight. She didn’t mean to, but she looked at her hand resting on his palm. The difference between their hands was startling. Hers was much smaller and paler of course, but it wasn’t just the size difference. His was stunningly masculine, his palm broad, and his fingers long. It had the calluses and small scars of a man who worked with his hands.

Daniela felt almost dizzy with the need to have those hands touch her bare skin.

Crazy.

His fingers closed around hers, and he tugged her forward. His expression said he knew exactly what she was thinking, and he wanted the same thing. She didn’t resist. In fact, she had to resist acting as though her body were jet-propelled and leaping into his arms.

She braced her palm on his chest. His skin was hot through the fabric of his T-shirt, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart beneath her fingers.
Insane.

“Whatever it is,” he murmured quietly, “is fixable.”

“But—” Her eyes stung sharply, as her throat closed. Mutely, she shook her head. Victor was
not
fixable. Not until he was in a federal prison. Not until evidence was gathered, and—

Logan cupped her chin, so that she had to meet his penetrating gaze. “I swear to you on my life.
Whatever
it is.
Whoever
it is. We’ll make it disappear.”

“Logan, I—”

He bent his head to brush his lips over hers. “I never make promises I don’t keep. Now come outside and eat half a delicious steak before it gets cold. The guys are waiting.”

She sighed and followed him outside, where the men were handing around bowls heaped high with corn, baked potatoes, and a spinach salad she’d made with Hipolito’s careful instruction an hour ago. The night sky was a dark entity beyond the glow of the ship’s lights. Logan had decreed that the lights in all public spaces be left burning all night to deter any more pirates.

The men welcomed her and immediately launched into excited discussion of what they’d salvaged that afternoon. It fascinated her that they all appeared to be more interested in what they’d found rather than the monetary value. But that could be because they hadn’t hit the mother lode yet. The treasure that should’ve been on board the
Nuestra Señora de Garza.

It was a beautiful night, with just a light warm breeze that made her hair tickle the back of her neck. It brought with it the outdoorsy fragrance of Logan’s soap, and the smell that was uniquely his, which made all of Daniela’s girl parts sit up and take notice.

There were plenty of steaks to go around and she chose the smallest one, which was big enough to feed a small army and all their dependents. A few minutes later, Dog ambled outside and settled under the table on her foot.

She ate her dinner slowly, enjoying a glass of wine with her meal, fascinated by the camaraderie and deep friendship of the team. These men were family to Logan, she could tell. They were all friends, especially he and Jed, but one thing was abundantly clear: Logan Cutter was the alpha wolf of this pack.

After dinner, some of the men went off to watch a movie in the media room on the deck above, while the rest went to the galley to play poker with Hipolito, who they claimed owed them a month’s wages they wanted to win back. Jed clicked his fingers and Dog got to his feet and followed him inside.

“That was … abrupt,” Daniela told Logan, who was sitting beside her drinking a cup of coffee. “Did you tell everyone to leave?”

He glanced around. “Didn’t someone mention fleecing the chef?”

“You know what I mean. They’ll think we—”

He made a “so?” gesture with his hand. “We are.”

“Logan—” Daniela shook her head.

He shoved his chair back, and rose to his feet. “Wanna watch the news?”

Now
that
was abrupt. It was nice sitting out there with the soft quiet all around them, and the gentle sounds of the ship as it rocked on the black water. But they’d had enough togetherness today. Being with him was too seductive. No matter his assurances that everything would be okay. He didn’t know how
not
okay her life was. The
Sea Wolf
and Logan Cutter were no more than a pit stop, a momentary respite from the chaos that had dogged her since meeting Victor Stamps. She got to her feet, too. “I think I’ll just turn in.”

“Nah.” He reached out and grabbed her hand, leading her through the door. “We’ll watch a movie neither of us wants to see.” He scooped up a throw from the back of a chair, and maneuvered her toward the long sofa facing the big-screen TV. “Sit.”

“For—Why?”

“Because standing will be awkward, not to mention uncomfortable. Sit.” He tugged her down beside him, and picked up the remote, pointing it at the TV. “Ah. This is a good one.”

She glanced at the giant scene. “It was his worst movie!”

“Perfect, sit right here and close your eyes. I’ll turn off the sound.”

“What am I missing?”

“The lights are on, anyone can walk in at any time. We’re going to neck like teenagers until we disintegrate, and when we recover, we’ll start again. We’ll go from there.”

All the lights were on inside the room and out on deck. One of the security guys passed right outside the window, looked in, and lifted a hand in greeting. “You are out of your mind, you know that. And what’s the blanket for? It must be eighty degrees.”

He gave her an incredulous look. “Have you never necked in the living room while your parents were upstairs?”

“Of course not. My dad would’ve stormed in and made sure we were ten feet apart.”