Читать книгу Castillo's Bride - Anne Duquette Marie - Страница 10

Oceanside Harbor, California

Same day, 6:45 p.m.

IN HIS CABIN aboard Neptune’s Bride, Jordan unpacked. As a man who lived his life in small cabins, he traveled light, even on land. His few possessions were quickly stowed away, along with Aurora’s partnership contract, which he’d study later tonight. A faint scent of sandal-wood remained in his nostrils as he made his way above deck, to be replaced by the smell of the lobster traps. Sounds of live jazz suddenly filled his ears, and he looked around for the source.

“Starboard and up, the other side of the lobster cages,” Aurora said, already on deck. “We get live music in the evenings from the Chart House and the Nautical Bean.”

“Good food, too,” Jordan guessed, sniffing the air. “Do we have to dress to go out for dinner?”

“No. A shirt and sandals is all it takes. If you eat outside, you don’t even need that. Hungry?”

“I am. If you want to go to one of the restaurants, I’ll buy. Otherwise I’ll fix dinner, if you’ll let me use your galley,” Jordan said.

Aurora grinned from her perch on the bow, where she stood with a long brush and hose washing the droppings from passing seagulls and pelicans off Bride’s gleaming white paint. “It’s torture being on someone else’s ship, isn’t it? Having to ask permission all the time…”

“I can deal with it. I’m not the pampered type. Need help?”

“You can turn off the hose.”

Jordan nimbly hopped down to the slip and walked over to the dock box, which made water, electricity, and phones and cable TV available to slip-holders. He saw that Aurora’s vessel was only hooked up to the first two.

“No phone?” he asked.

“I have my cell phone. And there’s a pay phone up by the private showers and laundry rooms. Oh, here.”

She pulled a key ring from the pockets of her cutoff jeans and tossed it to him. Jordan caught it effortlessly.

“One of the keys is to Bride’s hatch. The other fits the gates and the men’s room. When docked, please use only the galley sink. The head plumbing’s off limits. Bride’s a woodie—and too old to have an accessible sewage tank for the potty-pumpers. That means I have to go three miles outside the harbor to legally dump. So keep all waste to a minimum. I ask my crew to sort trash for the recycle bins. Also, we’re required by law to keep our water clean. Nothing’s allowed in the harbor water, not dust sweepings, not paint scrapings, nothing.”

“Except for fish guts and old bait,” Jordan said, noticing all the pelicans on the roof of the closest restaurant. The shellfish boats were directly between the restaurant and Aurora’s slip.

“Not for long. You should see the size of the lobsters here. We have a sea lion population that frequents the harbor, too. Between them and the birds, the port stays pretty clean.” Aurora tossed him the hose, and Jordan neatly coiled it as she stowed the scrubbing broom.

“Thanks for offering to cook—nice trait in a man,” she teased. “But why don’t we do that another day? There’s a little fish-and-chip place across the harbor. Let’s take the dinghy and keep the galley clean. We can review those contracts over dinner.”

JORDAN FINISHED rereading the papers for the second time just as the sun’s corona touched the sharp, flat line where sky meets sea.

“Have a pen?” he asked, enjoying the sunset.

“I do.” She passed him one from her fanny pack, then shoved aside the wrappers from their fish and chips, his beer bottle, and another one of her citrus drinks—tangerine, this time—so he had more room.

Jordan signed both copies, waited as she signed hers, and slid both sets back toward her. He carefully slipped both contracts back into their protective envelope.

“Where’s my galleon?” he immediately asked.

Aurora pointedly lifted one eyebrow. “Your galleon?”

“Our galleon,” he corrected. “Where is it?”

“We’ll be working out of San Diego Harbor.”

“I want the coordinates of the San Rafael—and don’t tell me you haven’t memorized them.”

“I have, and I’ll give them to you as soon as these papers are filed.”

Jordan’s lips set in a thin line of disappointment and frustration. Aurora reached for his hand. Despite the rough calluses on her palm and fingertips, her touch felt surprisingly soft.

“Sorry to do this,” she said kindly, “but I have my sister to think about. I know you’ve waited a long time. Please try to be patient just a little longer.”

Jordan continued to let her hold his hand. A moment later, she removed her fingers from his. “Are there any other questions I could answer for you?” Aurora asked.

“I’m concerned about the security of the location—for both our sakes. Do you have the coordinates written down anywhere? Are they stored in your GPS?”

“No and no.”.

“Okay.” Jordan nodded with satisfaction. Global Positioning Systems were satellite-based navigational aids. Once activated, they tracked three coordinates—latitude, longitude and altitude, both above and below sea level—and made navigation simple for anyone who understood the numbers.

“Who else has them? Your dive crew?”

“Not even them. I went out alone, and I dived alone.”

Jordan blinked. “Alone? That’s dangerous.”

“So is being locked away in a Mexican jail.”

“But what if…” Something happened to you? Like something nearly happened to me? The thought of her being beaten and thrown off a pier turned his normally strong stomach. He shook his head, surprising himself by being unable to go on.

“I get amnesia? Abducted by aliens? Eaten by piranhas?”

“I didn’t say that. However, you should have at least one safety in place. Your friend Donna, perhaps, if you don’t trust me. I wish you would,” he added in a low voice, surprised a second time by the urgency of his words.

“No. Until these papers are filed, no one gets the location. Not even you. Not even Donna. My family comes first—whether they believe it or not.”

Whether they believe it or not? Strange thing to say…It’d been years since she’d run away. Apparently the family hadn’t recovered from her youthful indiscretion. That kind of grudge was something he had no patience with.

But before he could follow up on her statement, she rose. Jordan had no choice but to follow her back to the dinghy, a trimly painted blue-and-white with black letters proclaiming the name, the Tempest Tantrum. Aurora climbed in first, taking her position at the back of the small trolling motor.

“Then we’ll file tomorrow,” Jordan said. “You give me the coordinates, and weather permitting, we dive the wreck.”

“We’ll need at least two other people,” she said as he carefully climbed in. Small boats rocked easily, especially when carrying two people with disparate weights. Large crafts had built-in air pockets or plastic buoys within. Smaller craft sank like stones when overturned. “We could plan on a preliminary dive without a full crew. If it works out, we may be able to keep the scale of our operation small.”

“What about Donna?”

“She’s always game. I’d need a fourth, as well,” she said. “Two topside, plus two diving minimum—that’s you and me—for where we’re heading.”

“Who else do you have in mind?”

“There’s a young man in Mexico, Roberto Ortega,” she said in a thoughtful voice. “But I’d have to go to the border to pick him up. I don’t think I’ll have time. Cast off, please.” Aurora started the electric motor with a twist of the handle.

Jordan removed the dinghy’s single line from the docking cleat. “He couldn’t meet us here?”

“No, he doesn’t have transportation. Since we’ll be launching from San Diego Harbor, you’ll have to meet Roberto another time. Neil Harris has his own private watercraft, and his cruise ship’s in port, so he’s free to help us. I’ve already sounded him out and he’s agreeable. I wouldn’t usually ask him but since he already knows you, and you’re so eager to get out there…”

“That’s our four, then. Period. I’d prefer to keep the dive site secret for as long as possible.”

“Well, using Neil’s boat instead of mine will make it harder for anyone to follow—if we’re being followed. Besides, Neil can be trusted.”

“Fine, that sounds reasonable,” he said a bit grudgingly. “But keep in mind that I have no intention of being the junior partner on this venture. We’re equal partners and I expect to be involved in all decisions before you discuss them with other people.” At her curt nod, he paused, then continued quietly. “I want you to understand something, Ms. Collins.”

Aurora geared the little motor into idle. Silence washed over their patch of water as the orange of the setting sun slid across its surface. In no danger of traffic this late at night, the dinghy rocked slowly with the harbor surge.

“You told me about your family. Now let me tell you about mine. Or rather, what’s left of it.” His words were terse, low, emotionless. “Thanks to a hurricane ten years ago, I’m the only father left for nine nieces, five nephews and their mothers. My two brothers are dead. My father and grandfather are dead. My sisters’ husbands are dead. My older cousins and nephews are dead—all drowned. You’re looking at the sole male support of what was once a thriving family and a thriving family business. If I go down, they go down with me. At present, half of the San Rafael is all I have left to offer. If anything happens to me before we salvage it, they have nothing. So I repeat—when it comes to future decisions about this venture, you’ll keep me informed at all times. Got it?”

Aurora met his gaze full on. “You have my word.” She reached for the motor. “I’m sorry about your family. You must miss them terribly.”

“Yes.”

The water lapped gently at the wooden sides of the dinghy as her hand rested on his arm. After a brief moment, she twisted the forward gear shaft. The electric motor started up again, propelling the Tempest Tantrum back to Neptune’s Bride.

The sun had disappeared by the time they climbed back aboard Bride. Jordan secured the dinghy in its resting place on the stern diving deck. Aurora tilted the motor out of the water, then sprayed off the saltwater with fresh water from her slip’s hose.

“I’m going to shower,” she said. “There’s a common cabin I use as a sitting room. You’ll find the North County and San Diego newspapers there, if you want them. Help yourself.”

“Thanks.”

Moments later, he watched her head up toward the slip-gate and the private showers, key in hand, a fresh towel rolled up in the other. Jordan leaned against the railing, watching the sun sink the final distance below the waterline. Family conversations, cooking smells, children’s laughter and the barking of ships’ dogs mingled with the sounds of jazz, radios, and auto and marine traffic. The closeness of the slips, much narrower than those he was used to, made outdoor familiarity simple.

People greeted other people with the warm familiarity he’d known in every port. Yet this woman was different. Aurora had exchanged brief greetings with several people, but remained somewhat aloof. Friendly yet uninvolved. She was certainly loyal to her own family—but they seemed far removed from her life.

What kind of woman runs away from her family—a family she obviously loves? I would have done anything to hold on to mine.

Honesty compelled him to answer his own question. She was probably no different than the kind of man who could walk away from a loving fiancé. He’d seen no other option at the time, but at least his family had understood. Apparently hers never did.