Wilde One (29 page)

“Ostrich sized. The bar alone must have close to three hundred thousand dollars’ worth of gold in it.”

Ainslee’s jaw sagged. “You’re kidding?”

“Nope.” He lifted the painting and propped it up against the wall on top of the dresser. “In my line of business, it pays to know the value of precious metals. We aren’t millionaires or anything. The stones in the necklace and earrings are valuable, but we aren’t talking the Hope Diamond here. Still, this was certainly a profitable couple of weeks’ work.”

“Unless the painting really is by Monet.”

He grinned. “That would tip us into the mega-wealthy category.”

“I could buy a cute little cottage with an ocean view instead of renting an apartment somewhere with a bunch of neighbors crowding around me.” She let out a sigh. “After five years in New York, breathing room would be heaven.”

He squeezed her shoulders through the fuzzy robe. “Don’t count it out. Even if the painting isn’t a masterpiece, with your share of the gold, you can afford something a lot nicer than an apartment.”

“I can, can’t I?” She glanced up at him and grinned. “Sweet.”

“Ains?”

“Hmm?”

“Are we finished discussing the treasure and Victor and the possibility of murder, at least for tonight?”

“I suppose so. Why? Did you have something else in mind?”

Looping his arms around her waist, he pulled her back against his burgeoning need and ran his lips along the side of her neck, tasting sweet-scented skin through the damp curls. “I might.”

“Can it wait a moment or two, until I dry my hair? Otherwise it’ll be an unholy mess in the morning.”

His grip tightened. “I may have enough self-control to manage that, if you don’t take too long.”

“Five minutes.” She spun out of his arms, raised on her tiptoes to press a kiss to his lips then bolted into the bathroom. A few seconds later the whir of a blow dryer hummed through the door.

Griff toed off his shoes, chucked his pants and boxers, whipped his shirt over his head then flipped back the comforter. Or tried. It pulled tight beneath Rocky’s minimal weight. “Off the bed.”

The dog growled.

“I mean it.”

Lifting his nose in the air, the mutt moved slowly to the foot of the bed before settling into a ball. He stared up at Griff with brown eyes, daring him to protest.

“Whatever.” He slid under the covers then reached for the remote on the nightstand to turn on the TV. Flipping through the channels as the blow dryer whirred, he paused on a local news station.

A reporter stood outside the UCSF Medical Center. Her platinum blond hair was sprayed into elaborate puffs despite the damp, low hanging fog, and blue eyes were wide with excitement. “This is Lola Hightower with a late breaking news story. Legendary basketball star, Parnell Jones, was rushed to the hospital behind me after becoming the latest victim of a mugging turned violent. According to a police source, Mr. Jones was attacked in the Richmond District by an unknown assailant. A witness reported seeing a Caucasian male of medium height wearing a black leather jacket and a knit hat strike down Mr. Jones before fleeing the scene carrying a small duffle bag. A hunt for his attacker is ongoing. So far, there’s been no word from the hospital spokesperson as to the basketball legend’s condition. We haven’t yet been able to verify why Mr. Jones is here in San Francisco, but we’ll bring you follow-up details just as soon as we know more. Back to you, Hal.”

The screen flashed to a suave, older man in a newsroom who again promised to provide viewers with more information as it was made available.

“Holy shit!” Griff sprang out of the bed and crossed the room to throw open the bathroom door. “Someone attacked Parnell.”

Ainslee turned off the blow dryer. Slowly she raised her lowered gaze to meet his. Color bloomed in her cheeks. “I thought you said you had willpower.”

“Huh?” He glanced down. His package hung in unimpressive fashion but twitched to life when Ainslee continued to stare. “Sorry, I forgot I didn’t have on any clothes. Did you hear what I said?”

She shook her head. “Um, no, the dryer…” Her voice trailed off. “Was it important?”

“Hell, yes, it’s important. Someone attacked Parnell.” He tugged on her arm. “Are you finished in here? Your hair looks dry enough to me.”

“Yes.” She followed him back into the bedroom. “Parnell Jones? What happened to him?”

“The reporter from the local news called it a mugging gone wrong—
in the Richmond District
. The suspect fled with a duffle bag.” He waved a hand. “What do you want to bet the creep who was checking up on us was cruising the neighborhood, saw Parnell on the street with a bag and smashed him over the head, intending to steal the treasure?”

Ainslee dropped onto the foot of the bed next to the dog. “Uh, can you put some pants on? I can’t focus with…just put some pants on.”

He grinned and grabbed his boxers off the floor. “Didn’t mean to distract you.”

“What happened to Parnell? Was he hurt?”

“He’s in the hospital.”

Her eyes widened, and her mouth drew down with concern. “Is he going to be okay?”

“The hospital hasn’t released a statement on his condition yet.”

“I don’t get it. If the man who was looking for us believed we’d found the treasure, why would he attack Parnell?”

“Maybe he didn’t know for sure we’re the ones who have it.” Griff sat beside her on the bed. “The yard behind the apartments was dark, and we must have sprinted around the corner before he reached the street. He probably didn’t see us. He knew the treasure had been dug up, but not who did the digging.”

“So, we lost him zigzagging through the neighborhood.” She frowned. “He kept searching, not for us in particular, but for any of the participants in the contest.”

Griff scooted closer when the dog stretched out and kicked him, then lost his train of thought as their thighs pressed together. “Uh, exactly. He saw the SUV parked nearby and checked the bed and breakfast, but Doris turned him away.”

“So he ended up on the street again and happened to run across Parnell carrying a bag, took a chance he had the treasure and grabbed it.”

“Makes sense.” Griff absently fingered one of her soft curls when it brushed his hand. “There is the possibility the man who hit Parnell wasn’t the one at the apartment. The person in the yard could have been Morris. Not Marietta, though. The voice we heard yelling those obscenities belonged to a man.”

“You’re right. Heck, it could even have been Parnell.” Ainslee flipped the curl he’d been playing with over her shoulder. “After we beat him to the treasure, maybe he was walking back to wherever he’d parked his motor home when the assailant hit him.”

“I hadn’t thought of that.”

“The problem is, all this is speculation. We don’t know what really happened.” She shivered and rubbed her arms. “But we do know this man is dangerous. He’s stalking all of us, and he’s willing to take risks.”

“There’s a simple solution.” He cast a longing glance behind them at the bed and sighed.

“There is?”

“Yep, we disappear. Once we’re out of the city, he won’t know where we’ve gone. No more clues to follow. No more trail leading to a common destination. We vanish.”

“I suppose we’ll have to get up early…”

Griff shook his head. “I imagine he’ll expect that and be watching since he knows where we’re parked. Much as I hate the idea of ditching our room with a view, we need to leave now. Tonight.”

Her gaze met his. “We can’t run forever.”

“We don’t have to. Once we sell that gold brick and turn over the painting and jewelry for appraisal, he won’t have any reason to come after us. The game will be over. Right now he still believes he has a chance of recovering the treasure without getting caught.”

Ainslee rose slowly to her feet. “If the man who shot at us and attacked Parnell isn’t one of the others in the race, then who is he?”

Griff shrugged. “If Parnell got a good look at the guy, the police will put out a description and hopefully arrest him for assault. Honestly, I don’t care who he is just as long as he leaves us alone.” Standing, he pulled her into his arms for a long, hard hug. “I only care that you’ll be out of harm’s way. Right now, your safety is all that matters.”

Standing well back from the edge of the overlook, Ainslee let out a long breath. Sunlight glimmered on frothing waves rolling in from the horizon, while jagged cliffs dropped in sheer splendor straight into the sea.

“There aren’t any words to describe how amazing this is.” Raising her arms, she spun in a circle, face lifted to the stiff breeze.

“Along this stretch of Big Sur, there are miles and miles of coastline just as spectacular.” Griff stepped up behind her, dropped one hand on her shoulder and pointed with the other. “See that huge boulder jutting out of the water over to the right?”

She smiled up at him. “I do. Are those little blobs sea lions? They certainly seem to have plenty to say this morning.”

Their barking echoed off the cliffs, not exactly a symphony, but certainly more harmonious than the shrieking seagulls circling overhead.

His lips curved in a grin. “I kind of enjoy listening to them, which is a good thing since I’ll be working in this area.”

“Tell me about the wreck.” Ainslee gathered her wind whipped hair and secured it with a scrunchie she pulled from her sweatshirt pocket. “Geez, it’s breezy today.”

“Cold? I’ll keep you warm.” He wrapped his arms around her and rested his chin on her head. “Let’s see, less than ten miles straight out from that monolith are submerged rocks. A buoy marks them now, but there didn’t used to be one. Based on a series of letters an old gentleman from San Diego published in his genealogy records, a ship sank in the vicinity during the gold rush. It was a merchant vessel returning to the East Coast for mining supplies. The ship was loaded with the gold his great-grandfather took in exchange for the goods he sold in his store in Sacramento.” His arms tightened. “Sounds like the merchant made a huge profit off the miners.”

Strands of her hair caught on his unshaven face when she nodded. “The storekeepers were the real victors in the rush to find gold. They came away far richer than the miners.”

“Well, this man lost all his profits when the
Maggie May
sank. Only a couple of the hands survived to tell the tale.”

“If they knew where the ship was lost, why hasn’t it been recovered before now?”

“Wicked currents in the area kept anyone from trying back in the day. Then I imagine people forgot all about the
Maggie May
over the years. The Marsh genealogy was only published last winter by a vanity press. I’m lucky I came across a reference that intrigued me enough to check it out. From all my research, I’m nearly positive the ship’s still there.”

“That’s really cool.”

The hand on her ribcage inched upward. “I’m pretty excited about the project. Once I have the
Wilde Chick
back from the company leasing her, I’ll reassemble my crew and set to work.”

Ainslee wished she had such a well-mapped plan for her near future. A sigh slipped out. Time to find a place to settle down, not to mention a job to support herself and her dog. Frowning, she glanced around, wondering where Rocky had wandered off to.

Her breath caught. “Rocky, no! Get away from there!”

Digging furiously, he stuck his nose down a gopher hole not two feet from the edge of the cliff.

“You stay back. I’ll get him.” Griff released her to run over and grab the dog, then carried him away from the danger zone. “Damn it, Rocky. Don’t you dare bite me.”

Twisting in his grip, Rocky snapped and growled.

“Maybe I’d better leash him.” Ainslee bent to fasten the clasp to her dog’s collar as soon as Griff set him down. “Thanks for rescuing him. Did he nip you?”

“No, I think the gnashing teeth was all for show.”

She straightened, holding tight to the leash. “I’m grateful, even if Rocky isn’t. I should have been watching him more closely.” Her gaze strayed back to the vista of endless sea. “Despite the canine drama, I’m glad we stopped. I can’t imagine a place more beautiful than this. Lucky you, getting to work in this area.”

“You could always contact the local school districts to see if any of them are hiring. Carmel isn’t too far away.”

Did he really just suggest that?

Ainslee blinked. The last time she’d mentioned moving anywhere near his work site, he’d freaked, acting like she was the worst sort of clinging vine. One that could only be controlled by a carefully placed barrier at least a state or two wide. She subdued an urge to kick up her heels in a victory dance as they headed toward the SUV.

Once they’d pulled back onto Highway One, he glanced over. “I guess we should decide what we want to do next. I’m positive we ditched anyone who might have attempted to follow us out of the city before we stopped at that crappy motel last night, but we can’t just drive aimlessly for the rest of the day. We need to have that picture and the jewelry appraised. Sooner rather than later. I’m not too thrilled with the idea of carrying valuable art around with us indefinitely. Some transient could break into the car and walk away with our Manet.”

“Monet. Manet painted people going about their daily lives. Monet painted misty landscapes.”

“Right. Whatever. I can tell you all about ancient coins but nothing about Impressionist paintings, if that’s what ours is.”

“I took a few art appreciation classes in college.” She lifted one shoulder. “But I’m afraid they didn’t include tips on how to get a painting appraised. Do we look for someone online?”

“I have a contact who could probably suggest a reputable appraiser in the area.”

She leaned back in the seat and gave him a quick smile before returning her attention to the sea pounding the shoreline far below. “Do what you think is best. I trust your judgment.”

“Fine. I’ll call my buddy once we get settled.” He grew silent to navigate a hairpin turn then picked up the conversation. “The closest town to the wreck is only a few miles from here. Though it’s not very big, there’s a harbor where I can moor the
Wilde Chick
and some halfway decent pay-by-the-week studio cabins my crew can rent out. I looked into it before leaving Florida when I was considering this site. There’s also a campground.” He cleared his throat. “I know you need to make plans for your future, but if you want to hang out a little longer…”