Читать книгу Deadly Engagement - Elle James - Страница 10

Chapter 1

Creed Thomas Ruckman’s smart phone buzzed and he pulled the rental SUV he’d picked up at the Portland airport to the side of the road just outside Cape Churn, a quaint Oregon seaside town. The caller ID displayed Blocked Sender. Probably The Man, his boss, who’d sent him on the red-eye flight from Alaska late the previous night, bumping mission status to urgent and a matter of national security.

Royce Fontaine orchestrated the band of Stealth Operations Specialists from their headquarters in Washington, for the most part. On occasion, he ran missions himself. The man was fearless and demanded no less from his operatives than what he expected of himself.

Creed hit the button on the headset hooked over his ear. “Thomas.” He used Thomas and other aliases as his last name when he went undercover—Ruckman had become just a name in his file back at headquarters.

“You in Cape Churn yet?” Royce’s deep voice filled his head as if he were there in the vehicle with him.

“Just pulling into town. Any word on Phillip Macias’s whereabouts, or the location of the yacht I tagged in Russia?”

“That’s what I’m calling about and why you’re where you are. The GPS tracking device stalled off the coast of Cape Churn. Satellite images aren’t picking up the boat at the location. Either they scuttled the boat or the boat sank. That’s where you come in.”

“I figured as much. None of my associates in Russia could tell me what’s on board, or why it’s so important to Macias.”

“I put a bug in the ear of one of my contacts in the National Security Agency’s electronic surveillance and monitoring division. He just sent word that something big is about to go down on the west coast, and Macias is at the center of it. There’s a lot of subversive chatter by some of the people on their watch list.”

“Any idea what?”

“Only hints at some type of explosions with the potential of killing entire cities of Americans.”

Creed’s heart sank to the bottom of his belly, then bounced back with a kick of adrenaline. “I figured it was something big. Macias is known for drama. When he’s involved, it’s go big or go home. Though they couldn’t prove it, my informants told me he was responsible for last year’s attacks on Chicago and D.C. in an event similar to the Greek Conspiracy of Fire Nuclei of 2010.”

“Right,” Fontaine agreed. “And he was only using pressure-cooker bombs in those instances. From what my NSA source said, he’s going for a bigger bang, possibly dirty bombs.” Royce paused, then continued. “The situation is critical. Since all of this is conjecture at this point, keep it on the down low. We don’t know who Macias’s contacts are, and we can’t trust anyone. If it leaks to the press, we could lose the connection. You have to find out what Macias is up to, his contact for uranium, if that’s his angle, and stop Armageddon from happening. Millions of lives are depending on you.”

“No pressure, right? And what you’re saying is that for all these years people have been prophesying California would one day fall into the ocean, that event may come earlier than we think.”

“As soon as I can pull some of the others in on this mission, I’ll send them your way. In the meantime, you’re the lead man.”

“Sounds like I’m the only man.”

“For the moment, you are. I’m working intel from this end. I’ll feed you everything I know as soon as I know.” True to his word, Royce would do everything in his power to help him. The head of SOS kept his promises. “You’ve got all the information and the cover you need to find that yacht. Go get ’em.”

“I’m on it.” Creed hit the button on his earpiece to end the call, drew in a deep breath and drove into town, to the Cape Churn police station. He climbed out of the rental and entered the office, wearing shorts, flip-flops, sunglasses and a T-shirt with the image of a sailboat emblazoned across his chest. Pasting his friendliest insurance-adjuster grin on his face, he extended his hand to the man he presumed was the chief of police, the one person in town who would know a local from a transient, and where to go to get what he needed. “Hello, I’m Creed Thomas. Are you the police chief?”

“That would be me.” He gripped Creed’s hand in a firm handshake. “Tom Taggart. I don’t believe I know you. New resident in town, or here on vacation?”

This was where his cover came into play. Until he knew the trustworthiness of the locals, he couldn’t reveal the potential danger lurking in the quiet seaside town. “Actually, I’m here on business.”

“What kind of business brings you to Cape Churn? Setting up a golf tournament? Team building weekend? Searching for a vacation home?” The chief smiled. “Just ask—we’re likely to have what you’re looking for.”

Creed removed his glasses, liking the older man’s open, friendly face. “I’m looking for a boat.”

“A boat?” Taggart’s brows rose. “Renting, buying? Anything special you got in mind?”

“A missing boat, to be exact.” He handed the chief his fake business card with Thomas Brothers Insurance written in bold lettering across the top. “I underwrote an insurance policy on a yacht we believe went down off the coast of Cape Churn in the past couple days.”

“Is that so?” Taggart scratched his chin. “I don’t recall receiving any reports of a ship in distress or BOLOs on missing persons.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. The owner probably didn’t know he was in distress until the ship went down, and his family won’t be missing him for several days. I understand there was a significant amount of fog the night before last?”

“True.” The chief nodded. “Folks around here call it the Devil’s Shroud. Nothing but misfortune happens when it slides into the coast. Could be your boat got caught up in it.”

“That’s my bet. Fortunately, we have tracking devices on the yachts we insure, and I believe I can locate it. All I need is a guide to get me out to it. That’s what I was hoping you could help me with.”

“Depends on where you’re going. The shallows around here are pretty treacherous, even on a calm day. If you have the GPS coordinate, and it’s not in the middle of the rocks, I recommend Dave Logsdon’s dive boat and Emma Jenkins as your guide. She’s not a full-time diver, but she has the most diving experience all around the cape.”

“Where can I find them?”

“Logsdon docks his boat at the Cape Churn Marina. It’s early in the summer season, and schools aren’t out yet. You might catch him, if he’s not chartered.”

A man wearing a navy blue police uniform entered the building behind Creed and removed his uniform cap.

The chief turned to the officer. “Gabe here can show you the way.”

“Where to?” Gabe stuck out his hand. “Gabe McGregor.”

Creed introduced himself.

“Mr. Thomas needs to hire a boat and a guide to look for a potentially sunken yacht his company insured.”

“Think it got caught in the fog the other night?” Gabe ran a hand through his dark blond hair. “We haven’t had any distress calls or bodies wash ashore.”

“The GPS tracking device we installed on the craft indicates it’s offshore, not moving. Too far to be anchored, which leads me to believe it’s at the bottom.”

“You’ll want Dave Logsdon and—”

“Emma Jenkins,” the chief finished. “I’ve already briefed him on the best guide in the area. Would you show him how to get to the marina? I’ve got a meeting with the mayor in fifteen. We’d send a diver with you, but we’re short staffed, and diving isn’t necessarily a requirement for the job. I can put a call into the coast guard and have them start a search for survivors.”

“Thanks.” Creed would rather not get the coast guard involved just yet. “In the meantime, I’d like to check the location and make sure the boat wasn’t stolen or the GPS device tossed overboard.”

“I’ll put out the word to be on the lookout for any casualties that might have washed ashore.” The chief stepped around Creed and Gabe. “Gabe can take you to the marina and get you set up.”

Gabe waved toward the door. “I can take you there, or you can follow me.”

“I’ll follow,” Creed said.

“Dave’s the most reliable captain in the area. He can get you just about anywhere, or close enough you can swim in. And Emma is the most experienced diver. Can’t go wrong with her.”

“Good to know.” He didn’t really care as long as he had a boat to get him to where he needed to go. He didn’t necessarily need a local dive master to guide him in. Having received his training courtesy of the U.S. Navy SEALs, Creed could dive circles around most recreational divers. But to keep his cover, he’d go along with the locals and maybe learn something about who Phillip Macias was planning to meet with his Russian cargo.

The sooner the better. He had a feeling the yacht going down wasn’t part of the plan, and whoever was expecting it would be in a hurry to get his hands on whatever was on board. If that happened, it could initiate a chain of events that could potentially destroy the entire western coast of the United States.

* * *

They’re cancelling the Children’s Wing Project.

The words echoed in Emma Jenkins’s head as she shoved her duffel bag with her wet suit and regulator into the backseat of her Jeep. She slipped behind the wheel and headed for the marina, her chest hurting so badly she could barely breathe.

If she hadn’t scheduled the week off, she might have been tempted to call in sick to the hospital where she worked as a nurse. The same hospital her former fiancé had swindled out of the funds raised to build the new children’s wing eight months ago.

Laura Kurtz had called that morning with the news. “I wanted you to hear it from me first, and to assure you it’s not your fault and no one thinks that way.”

Yeah, right. If she hadn’t introduced Randy Walters to the board of directors, he wouldn’t have been offered the consultant position for raising funds for the new children’s wing.

“If you’re at fault,” Laura had said, “then so am I for not seeing through his lies.”

Emma had been so gullible, thinking Randy was trustworthy, loved her and really had planned to marry her in June. Her wedding dress still hung on her closet door, a painful reminder of the fool she’d been to trust a man.

“Take this week off as an opportunity to get yourself together, have some fun counting starfish or whatever it is you do on your dives, and come back refreshed. We need you here at Cape Churn Memorial. You’re the best nurse we have.”

At that point Emma had faked an incoming call, her voice choking on a sob she refused to release. Randy didn’t deserve a single tear. He’d hurt her, but worse, he’d hurt the children of Cape Churn and the surrounding seaside towns by absconding with the money meant for the addition.

Emma’s only hope at redemption lay in the sea. Call it a hunch, but today was the day her luck would change. She could feel it in her bones and flowing in her blood, the same blood that flowed through the long line of Cape Churn Jenkinses, who’d helped establish this little town on the coast of Oregon in the mid-eighteen hundreds. The sole surviving Jenkins, she had an obligation to redeem the family name.

As she turned her Jeep into the marina parking lot, her heartbeat slipped into an unsteady rhythm, her breath coming in shorter bursts as excitement mounted.

Today would be the day she found the wreck of the Anna Maria, a ship legend told of having sunk in the Devil’s Shroud in the late 1700s. She climbed out of her vehicle, grabbed her duffel and hurried toward destiny.

The boat that would get her there, the Reel Dive, rocked gently against its mooring. Dave Logsdon trotted along the dock carrying a cooler, probably filled with beer, his flip-flops making soft slapping sounds. He wore a worn U2 T-shirt and cargo shorts stained from fish guts and bait and frayed at the edges. An L.A. Dodgers baseball cap perched on his curly blond hair, tipped back so that he could see. “Some fog we had the past couple nights, wasn’t it?”

“Unfortunately.” Emma climbed aboard, unzipped her bag and slipped her diving mask and headlamp over her head. She adjusted the straps and removed it, laying it aside while she dug out the rest of her diving gear. “Had plenty of accident victims in the emergency room.”

Dave shook his head. “It was pretty bad out here. Must have been a disturbance farther out to sea. We had plenty of waves to go along with being socked in with the Devil’s Shroud.”

“Not a good night to be out on the water.” According to the legends and the written records, a similar night, over two hundred years ago, had led to the disappearance of the Spanish galleon, the Anna Maria.

Nothing penetrated the choking blanket of fog the locals had nicknamed the Devil’s Shroud. Ships caught in its deadly clutches ran aground in the deadly shallows of the reefs surrounding the jut of land called Cape Churn.

The Anna Maria had been spotted out to sea, nearing the Cape on its northern journey to the mouth of the Columbia River, navigating the jagged coastline between the rocky islands peppering the ocean floor. She’d been due to dock the next morning in the harbor town of Cape Churn, laden with gold coins and priceless china from the Far East. When the shroud descended, the ship and all aboard had perished.

Records kept by colonists placed the ship near the rocky shallows, but all efforts to locate the ship had come up empty.

Until now. Emma laid out her equipment, one piece at a time, going over her dive plan in her head. The dive that would fix everything in her life. Failure wasn’t an option. Her life, her reputation at the hospital and in the community, depended on her finding a treasure sufficient to cover the cost of the new wing.

A moment of doubt slipped beneath her forced bravado. Why did she think she had a chance to find the Anna Maria when no one else had? Any sane person would conclude she had the same chances of winning the lottery as finding the two-hundred-year-old wreck.

“Ready?” Dave asked, leaping aboard.

“Almost.” Emma shoved aside her misgivings and tested the flow of compressed air from the tank to the regulator, sucking in a deep breath and letting it out. She looked around at the equipment stacked on the deck. Buoyancy control device, or BCD, wrist dive computer with a built-in GPS, cylinder, regulator, booties, fins, wet suit, gloves, mask and diving knife. The most important item was the map she’d drawn of Cape Churn after researching her great-grandfather’s logbooks and journals that had been kept by the long since deceased lighthouse keeper from the late eighteen hundreds.

Emma straightened. “Do you have the location entered in your GPS?”

“Done.”

After a great deal of research and studying old letters and documents, she’d calculated a back azimuth from the locations reporting a sighting of the Anna Maria and determined the coordinates accordingly. Three years ago, she’d established a grid extending six hundred yards outward from that location, taking into account tide and ocean currents. Over the years, she’d dived the grid, meticulously ruling out one section after another until now. The final grid, her last hope to find the Anna Maria and keep alive the dream of a hospital addition benefiting the children.

A tentative thrill of anticipation shimmied across her skin.

Dave climbed the ladder to the helm and paused at the top, his back still to her as he faced the dock. “What’s with the police car?”

Emma glanced up, her gaze scanning the parking lot.

An SUV with Cape Churn Police written on the side pulled to a stop, and Officer Gabe McGregor got out.

Emma smiled and waved. Gabe and his fiancée, Kayla Davies, were friends of hers, though too often she felt like a pathetic odd man out to their loving family.

Another car pulled into the lot, parking next to Gabe’s SUV. A tall, dark-haired man unfolded himself from behind the wheel. Wearing sunglasses, a T-shirt, swim trunks and flip-flops, he strode toward them, carrying a large duffel bag, his broad chest and thick arms a testament of a firm regimen of weight lifting. Maybe even a little Native American ancestry, with those high cheekbones and square jaw. The stranger met the officer at the back of the vehicle. Gabe spoke and pointed toward the boat and Emma.

Emma’s pulse quickened, and she frowned at the realization.

“They seem to be pointing at us,” Dave commented. “Should I wait and see what they want, or take off?”

Emma wanted him to take off. She had a lot of seafloor to cover on her days off. But Gabe was her friend. If he needed to talk to her or Dave, she could spare him a few minutes. “I can wait.”

Gabe strode across to the dock, headed straight for them, the stranger keeping pace behind him. “Emma, Dave, glad I caught you.”

Feeling at a disadvantage, standing below the two tall men, Emma climbed out of the boat and stood on the dock, still staring up at the stranger with the officer. “Hi, Gabe. Good to see you. How are Kayla and the baby?”

Gabe smiled. “Both doing fine. Tonya had her first full night of sleep without waking last night. Kayla got up twice to make sure she was breathing.” He turned toward the man behind him. “This is Creed Thomas. He arrived in town this morning, looking for assistance in a case he’s working.”

Emma’s frown returned. “Case?”

Gabe nodded toward Creed. “I’ll let him tell you.”

The swarthy-skinned man stepped forward.

Dark, piercing eyes shone down on her, sending a ripple of trepidation across Emma’s nerve endings.

“As Officer McGregor said, I’m working a case for my insurance company, and I need the expertise of a diver familiar with this area to help me.”

Gabe grinned. “That would be Emma. She knows these waters better than anyone around.”

Emma nodded. “Why? What are you looking for?”

“A boat that disappeared off Cape Churn maybe last night or the night before.”

“Devil’s Shroud,” Dave said from his perch on the boat. “People from around here know better than to get caught out in that fog.”

Creed nodded. “Officer McGregor informed me you’ll be diving off the cape today, and I could use a boat.” He glanced toward Dave before returning his attention to Emma. “And, as I said, an expert diver to help me find the boat that went down. It was expensive, and my underwriters want to make sure it did go down and wasn’t stolen.”

Her chest tightened. “I had other plans for the day. If I can fit your search in around my plans, it’s a possibility.” Emma’s eyes narrowed. “Do you intend for me to find the boat, or are you going down, too?”

He nodded. “I’d planned on diving.”

“Are you an experienced diver?” She hoped so; otherwise, he’d slow her efforts.

Creed’s lips curled upward. “You could say I am.”

“Good.” Emma’s mouth firmed. “I don’t really have time to give lessons or rescue a new diver from getting the bends. I’ve got work to do.”

His dark eyes twinkled in the sun as if he was laughing at her. “I’ll try not to inconvenience you.”

Her frown deepened. “You won’t be carrying a speargun, will you?”

His forehead wrinkled. “No. Should I?”

“I’d rather you didn’t.” Emma smiled, softening her words. “I don’t want you shooting me by accident.”

Creed chuckled. “I take it you’ve been out with inexperienced divers before?”

She nodded. “I give lessons.”

“So,” Dave said from the deck, “do we have an additional diver today?”

Emma sighed. “I suppose.” She glanced at Gabe. “You owe me.”

Gabe tipped a finger off his hat. “He seems to be on the up-and-up, or I wouldn’t have suggested he join you.” He patted Creed on the back. “You’re in good hands with Emma. Not only is she an expert diver, she’s also the best nurse in the county. She helped deliver our baby girl.”

“I don’t think I’ll need a labor-and-delivery nurse on this dive.”

Emma laughed. “God, I hope not.”

“Be careful out there.” Gabe left Creed and Emma standing on the dock.

“Guess you’re stuck with me.” Emma stepped from the dock onto the deck of the dive boat.

Creed followed with his bag. “When are we leaving?”

Dave climbed down to the deck and flipped open the engine compartment, wiggled a hose, tightened a clamp and straightened. “How about now?”

“Do you have your own gear?” Emma eyed the man’s bag.

“I do.” He set the duffel on the deck and yanked his T-shirt up over his head, tossing it onto a nearby bench.

For a moment, Emma couldn’t focus on anything other than the broad expanse of dark skin. Wow, the man had way too much going for him in the looks department. Not that she was interested. Once bitten...and all that.

Creed bent to unzip his bag.

Emma tore her gaze from his attributes, glancing at the bag’s contents, hoping she wouldn’t have to waste valuable time fitting him out in skins and breathing apparatus.

After moving another step away from the man, Emma pulled her sundress up over her head, remembering too late that she should have untied the string in the back first. With her arms caught and the dress over her face, she struggled to find the string.

“Here, let me.” Large warm hands gripped the strap around her back, loosening the tie. The back of his knuckles brushed across her bare midriff as he pulled the dress up and over her head.

Standing in nothing but her bikini and feeling more than a little exposed, Emma glanced up at Creed to offer her thanks. Her words died on her lips as she gazed up at the dangerously handsome man standing so close she could almost smell the sunshine on his tanned skin.

Dark hair hung in loose waves over his ears and neck. Deep brown eyes smiled down at her.

Emma blinked once, then swallowed hard and backed up a step. Unfortunately, she backed right into a bench seat and would have fallen if Creed hadn’t reached out and snagged her around the waist, pulling her hard against his naked chest.

“Er...thanks.” She extricated herself from his grip, careful not to fall on the bench again.

“My pleasure.” His deep voice washed over her like warm butter melting into every pore.

Off balance, Emma nodded toward his bag. “Do you have all the gear you’ll need? Namely, a wet suit suitable for these cold waters?”

He grinned. “For the record, I’ve been diving a time or two. I believe I have all I need.” He pulled from his bag the same type of equipment Emma had amassed for the underwater expedition to explore the barrier reef on the outer edges of Cape Churn.

Emma mentally ticked off all that he would need, and then nodded to Dave. “Let’s go.”

“On it.” Dave fired up the engines while Emma unhooked the rope from the dock at the bow. Creed freed the stern rope, and Dave backed the forty-seven-foot boat away from the dock and out into the choppy waters of the bay. As he pulled away from the marina, a warm steady breeze lifted Emma’s hair from her face. She entered the passenger cabin and tucked her sundress into a cubby.

While Dave steered the boat toward the coordinates Emma had instructed him to, she sat on a bench and pulled her wet suit up over her legs, then stood and tugged them up to her hips.

Creed pulled a handheld GPS tracking device from his bag.

“You put a tracking device on all the yachts you insure?” she asked.

“Only the ones we think are at risk of disappearing.”

“From poor handling or theft?” Emma asked.

“Either.”

“And which one was this?” Emma glanced up.

He shrugged one gorgeous shoulder, making Emma catch her bottom lip between her teeth. “Both.”

“Let’s compare your coordinates to mine. Hopefully, they’re nearby and we can swim between the two.” And she wouldn’t waste too much time. She had only one week to find the Anna Maria. One week to change the hospital board of directors’ minds on scrapping the children’s wing. If she could find a treasure worth salvaging, they might reconsider.

Creed followed Emma up the steps to the helm, entering behind her, making the small space feel even smaller, filled with his large, overpowering presence. Having trouble concentrating on coordinates, Emma forced herself to compare the two sets of numbers.

For once her luck held. Creed’s coordinates were within the same vicinity. Considering it was the most likely place on the reef for ships to go down, Emma wasn’t terribly surprised. “Good, we’re going the same way.”

“Are you looking for another boat that got lost in the fog?” he asked.

“You bet,” she answered.

Dave grinned over his shoulder. “Emma’s ship got lost in the Devil’s Shroud over two hundred years ago.”

Creed’s brow rose. “Going for the historical value or treasure hunting?”

Her lips twitched, and she gave him his own answer. “Both.”

“Interesting.” He studied her for a long moment, his gaze lingering on her mouth. Then, clutching his GPS tracking device, Creed exited the cabin, made his way to the lower level and out onto the bow where he stared out over the bay. He leaned against the railing, his jaw tight, gaze glued to the rocky outcropping ahead.

From her perch above, Emma studied the man. He had the build of an athlete. Maybe he did know a little about diving, enough that she didn’t have to babysit him while she explored a particularly treacherous area.

She climbed down the ladder and continued gearing up for the dive. Leaving the suit’s torso hanging around her waist, she slipped her feet into the diving boots and zipped them. The cold Pacific Ocean didn’t allow divers to go without the wet suit. Too long in the chill waters led to hypothermia and death. A dry suit was even better, but today was sunny and warm enough that Emma would risk the cold with the thickest wet suit she owned.

Booties on, wet suit halfway there, Emma joined her dive buddy at the rail. “Maybe we should get a few things straight before we go under.”

He turned, his gaze passing over her, eyes narrowing slightly, assessing her. “Like?”

“I haven’t seen you around Cape Churn. Since I’m familiar with the area and its dangers, I’m in charge.”

Creed nodded. “Fair enough.”

“In fact, if you aren’t a master diver, tell me now. Where we are going isn’t for amateurs.”

His brows rose. “As I said before, I can hold my own.”

“That doesn’t tell me much.”

“I’ve logged over a hundred hours diving.”

She studied him, looking for a crack in his shield, the lie behind the handsome face, and found nothing. “Okay, then. Dave is going to drop us as close as he can, and we’ll swim in closer beneath the surface to avoid the waves. Once we’re in the water, Dave will move farther out to keep his boat from banging up against any submerged rocks. There’s a significant riptide and undercurrent that might cause us some issue.”

“If it’s so dangerous, why are you going out there?”

“I’m a wreck diver, and I’ve been doing it for years. The Devil’s Shroud and the cape have claimed its share of ships over the years. If you want to get to them, you have to get into the shallows around the submerged rocks off the cape’s point.” She stared hard at him. “Still interested?”

He nodded. “Sure. Sounds like fun.”

“Fun.” Emma snorted. “You have no idea.” She nodded toward his duffel. “You might want to suit up. We’ll be there in less than ten minutes.”

He popped a sharp salute and spun in a tight military about-face toward his gear.

As she dragged the rest of her seven-mil wet suit on, Emma watched Creed closely for any sign of hesitation, ready to pounce if he showed any lack of knowledge of his own equipment.

Regrettably, or maybe fortunately, he slipped into the wet suit as if it was a second skin. A quick check and testing of his regulator, dive computer, tank and mask indicated a proficient knowledge of his equipment.

Darn it. Emma had hoped to rule him out of this trip, claiming inadequate experience with the necessary diving apparatus.

By the time he had booties, fins and BCD strapped on, Emma had to concede the man knew his gear and wore it like he meant it. Much as she wanted, she couldn’t fault him there.

Would he be an idiot in the water? Taking off instead of staying within eyesight of his dive partner? She’d be damned if she’d chase him all over the ocean floor.

This trip was important to her. She really felt as though it could be the one. And so much rode on her finding the Anna Maria. She didn’t need a cocky diver with an attitude swimming off into trouble. “So what’s your story?”

A grin slipped across Creed’s face. “Are you always this direct?”

“I’m a nurse in my day job.” She crossed her arms over her chest. “It pays to be direct.”

He nodded. “A nurse, huh?”

“Yeah, so don’t get stung by a jellyfish or stab yourself with a knife.” She pulled her hair back off her face and secured it with an elastic band at the back of her neck. “I’m off duty, and it will only slow me down.”

“I’ll make a note of that.” He chuckled. “Do you reserve your good bedside manner for the day job?”

“Absolutely.” Emma smiled, loosening up a little. The man had a sense of humor and could give as good as he got. She didn’t want to like him, but when he smiled like he did at that moment, she couldn’t help herself. “If you’re such an experienced diver, why are you out wreck-diving without a partner?”

He shrugged and stared out across the bay. “I could ask you the same.”

“I do it all the time. I live here.” She tipped her head toward him. “Where are you from?”

“Around.”

Evasive as well as handsome, with his thick dark hair and penetrating dark eyes. They still had a few minutes to kill and Emma was good for a few more pulled teeth, so she asked, “Why the interest in the lost boat?”

“Besides the owner being missing and possibly dead? I want to protect the company interest and make sure the boat is in fact at the bottom of the ocean. It could be the owner found the tracking device and chucked it, taking off with the boat.” He crossed his arms. “Why so interested?”

“The more I know about you, the better prepared I am for anything that happens below. So if there’s anything I need to know, spill now.”

His brows rose. “I just need to find the boat.”

Emma opened her mouth to argue, but was interrupted by Dave.

“Get ready,” the captain said. “I’m as close as I can get to your coordinates without becoming a statistic.”

Emma glanced around at the rocks protruding out of the ocean. Sea lions basked in the sun on the smooth ledges. Some slipped off into the water, disturbed by the nearness of the boat.

Dragging her neoprene hood over her head, she tucked her hair beneath, then strapped her fins to her feet and shoved her hands into her gloves. Since she was the one in charge, she snapped the line for the surface marker buoy to her BCD and slipped her arms into the straps, hiking the BCD and cylinder up onto her back. Last but not least she pulled her mask onto her head and positioned it over her eyes, popped the regulator into her mouth and turned to see if her diving partner was anywhere near ready.

He stood fully equipped, mask and regulator in place, waiting for her.

Humph. So he was fast at getting geared up. That didn’t mean he would be a good dive buddy. Emma waddled toward the edge of the boat and grabbed the railing as the boat pitched in the choppy water.

One last thumbs-up to Dave and to Creed, and she back-rolled off the end of the boat to plunge beneath the surface. The water took her breath away, even through the thick neoprene, making her second-guess her decision to use the wet suit versus a dry suit. But once she got moving, her body would warm the water trapped between her and the suit.

As soon as she submerged, she released the surface marker buoy, allowing it to float to the surface where it would mark the divers’ progress beneath as they drifted along the ocean floor. That way Dave would know where to go to pick them up. Emma would make sure they swam away from the rocky protrusions when they were ready for the boat to retrieve them.

As Emma resurfaced, a splash beside her heralded Creed’s entrance into the ocean.

He held on to his mask and regulator as his head broke through the water, and then he gave her a thumbs-up.

Together, they signaled Dave with a thumbs-up and waved.

The captain waved back and set the boat in motion to pull farther out to sea, where he’d wait until Emma indicated for him to come retrieve them from the water.

She checked her dive computer, confident that she had plenty of air for a couple hours, as long as she didn’t have to go too deep. The deeper she dove, the more time she had to save for decompression coming up.

Emma loosened her mask, filled it with seawater, swished it, emptied and fit it snugly over her face. With one last glance at the departing boat and a double check on the surface marker buoy bobbing on the surface, Emma sucked in a gulp of metallic-tasting air and dove beneath the choppy waves. She headed straight for the rocks that had been partially submerged in the waves. Based on her calculations, the Anna Maria had last been seen there before the Devil’s Shroud rolled in that evening over two hundred years ago.

A school of lingcod swam by, their dull gray bodies slipping past like silent shadows.

With nothing but the sound of her breathing and the bubbles rising from each exhalation, Emma basked in the silent underwater world, the ebb and flow of the current less pronounced the deeper she went.

As they neared the bottom and the base of the outcropping, a startling array of sea urchins and anemones colored the moss- and lichen-covered rocks and ocean floor with their spiny bodies. A curious sea lion swirled past Creed, twisting and looping gracefully through the water.

Emma shone her diving headlamp onto the rocks, swimming into what appeared to be a small city of stone sprouting from the seabed.

Creed lagged behind, his own headlamp panning the area all around him.

She waited until he looked toward her, and then Emma urged him to catch up. The wreck of the Anna Maria had to be hidden somewhere among the black rocks, and she was anxious to find it before her air ran out.

As soon as Creed was within twenty feet, Emma swam between two house-size boulders, her feet flipping gently, propelling her ever deeper into the maze.

As she passed by another boulder twice the size of the first, she stopped, her breath catching in her throat when she glimpsed the outline of something with a sharper edge and straighter lines, not the rounded contours of objects natural to the ocean world. As her headlamp beam played over the object, her excitement waned. It was a boat. Not nearly big enough to be the Anna Maria, nor as old.

A boat would be underestimating the craft that appeared to be more a luxury yacht, shiny white and fairly new at that. By the looks of it, the craft had been freshly sunk, lacking the barnacles and lichen that quickly laid claim to objects resting on the ocean floor.

Disappointed, Emma made a mental note of the name on the stern. Pelageya. Emma checked her dive computer. She had sixty minutes left on this cylinder before she’d have to surface. If she wanted to find the Anna Maria, she’d have to move on soon.

She wondered if this was the boat Creed referred to, and if so, how long Creed would want to investigate the wrecked yacht before they could continue on. Emma glanced behind her.

The light from Creed’s headlamp reflected off the huge boulders as he swung it right and left. He had yet to focus in on what lay ahead of Emma.

Emma approached the yacht, making note of the large hole in the port bow. As her gaze panned upward, she caught movement behind the glass portal of the enclosed helm.

Curious, Emma swam closer and pushed open the door to the cabin. With a quick glance behind her to locate her dive buddy, who was closing in fast, she eased through the narrow opening, careful not to let her tank and BCD get hung up in the confines of the interior.

As she neared the few short steps up into the helm, her regulator hose snagged on something behind her.

She reached back to unhook the hose so that she could move on. Unable to pull free, she reached out to the walls in front of her, ready to push back the way she’d come.

As she laid her palms flat on the smooth surface of the helm’s doorway, it gave way and a bloated face drifted out of the helm, coming straight at her, eyes white-filmed and vacant.

Emma let out a squeal into her regulator, the sudden appearance of the bloated face igniting her flight instinct. She back-paddled to get away, her clinical side overwhelmed into panic mode.

Something gripped her ankles and pulled hard, jerking her free of whatever had hold of her and out of the cabin.

Realizing she was breathing too fast, Emma tried to calm herself, but her head spun and a gray fog threatened her vision.

Creed’s hands clasped her shoulders in an iron grip, forcing her to focus on him through her mask.

He tapped her regulator, as a reminder to breathe normally or she’d use up all her air before she could resurface. His gloved thumb and forefinger formed an O for the signal that she was okay.

Emma’s gaze clung to Creed’s as she fought to slow her breathing and regain control of her senses. When at last she could think straight, she motioned for her and Creed to go up. Her heart still pounded hard against her eardrums, drowning out the sound of air moving through the regulator.

Creed refused to move, pointing toward the yacht.

Emma shook her head and jabbed a finger upward, wanting to surface immediately, to get away from the floating, ghostlike body she’d seen in the cabin.

Creed squeezed her shoulders, tapped her chest with his forefinger and signaled okay.

No, I’m not okay, she wanted to say. As a nurse, she’d seen blood and gore. But she’d never had a body float out at her while diving. The abrupt appearance had thrown her off-kilter, and her pulse had yet to slow to normal.

Creed pointed to his chest and then to the yacht.

Emma shook her head, refusing to go back inside the confining space. A shiver rippled across her at the thought.

Creed’s fingers squeezed her shoulders once more and he swam back into the yacht, leaving her hovering over the deck.

He better not get stuck. If so, he’s on his own.

Several minutes passed, each longer than the last.

A shadow moved over the boat, shifting, swirling, circling, like a...

Emma glanced up. A great white shark hovered over the boat between rocky bottom and the open sky above. The sea lion that had been swimming along with them had disappeared. Her heart racing, Emma froze, praying Creed would remain inside the yacht until the shark grew bored and swam away. If Creed emerged with the body, the shark could attack, seeking the ready food source.

The sleek sea creature seemed to know Emma was there and wanted to toy with her as she debated whether to stay put or join Creed in the yacht with the dead man.

Emma kept an eye on the shark, checked her watch and her air supply several times before Creed finally emerged from the cabin.

A quick glance upward reassured her that the shark had indeed grown tired of waiting and moved on.

Creed backed out fins first, his hand clutching the arm of the dead man. Just what a shark might be interested in.

Emma shivered and looked again, praying the shark truly had moved on and hadn’t swam out of view around a big boulder, intent on backtracking and surprising them.

A shadow swirled over them. Her heart pounding, Emma glanced up, only to see a school of lingcod blocking the sunlight between rock formations.

Their best bet was to get out with the body as quickly as possible. She touched Creed’s shoulder and made the hand signal for danger, steepled her hands for shark and circled her finger, then motioned up with her thumb.

He nodded, his head swiveling in an attempt to find the shark.

With so many big rocks surrounding them, it would be difficult to see the shark until they swam up on it or vice versa.

Emma kicked out, moving swiftly through the water, anxious to get away from the shark before it decided they were fair game for lunch.