Severed Threads (10 page)

As he glanced around, absorbing the soaring ceilings, brilliant artwork, bamboo floors and luminous architecture, it suddenly occurred to Chase that Doc’s impressive renovation had to have been in the works for years – perhaps even implemented as the result of Sam’s initial discovery.

Chase pulled his starched collar away from his neck. He pondered his enormous, arduous task. The job to fill this place truly belonged with a dozen fully equipped salvage teams, but his past association with the professor had afforded him the honor. He swallowed hard, his tongue thick. He noticed another bar close by and plunged deep into the heavy masses.

"Aren’t you Chase Cohen?" a gray-haired gentleman in line asked.

Chase nodded. He wasn’t up for idle conversation tonight.

"Word has it you found sunken treasure. That right?"

All the eyes in line were suddenly glued on him. The local gossip had apparently been spreading faster than he and Ian had anticipated. The last thing they needed were boatloads of treasure seekers filling the harbor.

"Sure," he finally said. "About twenty dollars worth of scrap metal and rusty pop cans so far."

There was nodding and a humming consensus before everyone’s head turned back around. Everyone except the pretty blond he’d noticed earlier. Her smile grew with the intensity of her blue eyes. The slick guy at her side appeared to be entranced by the female bartender’s micro skirt until he noticed the focus of his date’s interest. His possessive paw clamped onto her arm, drawing her attention back. An angry, muffled backlash soon followed. In the past, Chase would have stepped in, but as he watched the couple exchange expletives, he realized they were perfectly paired. They simply added color to the otherwise mundane crowd.

When the band’s jazzy rendering came to an abrupt end, so did Chase’s interest. Dancers dispersed in all directions allowing him an unobstructed view of something far more appealing than anything else in the room.

Rachel.
His heart skipped a beat. Her long wavy brown hair was twisted up in elegant fashion, exposing the tempting curve of her neck. The tailored jacket she wore molded her sleek, athletic figure, and even though her mid-length skirt concealed the best view of her long trim legs, he had to admit the beige stilettos rekindled his active imagination. She stood near the wall, rigid with her arms crossed over her breasts, intense concentration thinning her eyes. From the looks of it, Ned Daniel's aunt seemed to be doing most of the talking. No surprise, after her nephew's snide assessment.

Chase surrendered his place in line. He edged his way around the dance floor, shielding himself behind a curtain of faceless people. He waited a safe distance away for an opportune moment to interrupt, but witnessing a heated exchange hadn’t been part of his plan.

"I
know
we keep going round and round." Rachel grumbled. "But for the last eight months, I’ve given away more than six million dollars to civic programs, charities…high-efficiency energy companies. I know Dr. Ying’s new application doesn’t meet our normal criteria. But Mr. Nash wanted us to use his money in a positive way. This project could bring life back into our community."

The rangy woman across from her snorted, before rolling her dull eyes. "You above anyone should know what a losing venture this could turn out to be."

"What exactly is
that
suppose to mean?" Rachel's voice lifted. "If you’re referring to my father again, then all I can say to you is – "

"Well, ladies," Chase cut in, "what a nice surprise. Might I add how beautiful you both look tonight?"

Rachel released an audible huff, but he paid her no mind. "Dr. Ying has sure out done himself, hasn't he?" he continued. "Never expected anything like this."

Apparently, idle conversation wasn’t on Rachel's agenda. “If you would excuse me, there’s something important I need to attend to.” She stepped away, accepting a cocktail from a passing waiter.

Chase rubbed his jaw.
Important, huh?
He glimpsed the badly aged woman poised before him – a former actress whose expiration date had long passed. Her black form-fitting dress begged for attention, however, her beady brown eyes bore down on whoever drew near.

"Don't believe we've officially met. Chase Cohen." He offered a warm smile and his hand, but her lackluster reaction had him quickly retracting both.

"So
you're
Cohen." She sniffed and pulled a tissue from her small handbag. She dabbed it under her pointy nose before readdressing him. "I'm Megan Van Dozer. I've been hearing about you
all
night."

"Oh, really?" He noticed the curl on Rachel's lips. She was apparently enjoying his discomfort, and for some weird reason, he didn't mind.

Megan emptied her half-filled glass in one swallow. She waved it in the air at her encumbered nephew, as if summoning a lowly servant. Ned nodded his head while balancing his glass-filled tray, but the scowl on his face told Chase he wouldn't be returning anytime soon.

"I'm going to tell you straight out, Mr. Cohen," she said. "I've been living here all my life. I don't believe in ridiculous fairy tales and I sure as hell don't appreciate folks in this town telling me what I should or shouldn't do." Her narrowed eyes were fixed on Rachel. "So if you've come here thinking you could sway my vote – "

"Do what?" Chase lifted a brow. "Mrs. Van Dozer, that honestly never occurred to me." Not until
that
moment at least. "I actually came over here to ask you to dance. But if you'd prefer that I just move on…"

"Dance? With me?" Her hand clutched the diamond necklace dangling from her leathery neck. "I…I haven't danced in years."

He could feel the weight of Rachel’s eyes on him from across the room. "Then all the more reason.” He hooked his arm through Megan's and steered them through the crowd to the edge of the dance floor.

"This is totally unnecessary," she said. “There’s lots of other women here I'm sure you'd prefer spending time with."

He flashed a counterfeit smile. "If that was true, I would have asked one of them."

A smile lifted the corners of her plump red lips. "Well, I suppose one quick dance wouldn't hurt." She extended her right hand and draped her left arm over his shoulder.

Chase waited for dancers to pass by. He slipped between them, step-close-stepping. Swaying and whirling her about. Megan managed to keep up with him with surprisingly little effort. But then the music changed tempo. It picked up speed and morphed into a rollicking swing number.

Chase froze in place. He anticipated Megan's adamant protest, but instead, she smiled and nodded agreeably. She slipped her purse chain over one arm and reclaimed his hand.

You asked for it.
Chase led her footwork, turning and spinning this way and that. With reckless abandonment, he tested their limited boundaries, flinging Megan from one end of the dance floor to the other. Back and forth they twirled and twisted. Kicking, sliding, jumping. Colliding into couples with every forward pitch. The open space around them grew larger as besieged performers surrendered their positions.

Megan’s cackles and sweaty palms proved no detriment as he directed their unorthodox display. By the end of the lengthy number, a crowd had gathered and was enthusiastically clapping. Megan wobbled about, clutching her chest. Someone offered to fetch a glass of water, but she refused, preferring champagne. She gulped down two servings before signaling for a refill.

Meanwhile, Chase's interest stretched elsewhere. The only person he'd hoped to impress was now nowhere in sight.
Where the hell did she go?
Rachel had probably found some dark corner, convinced he’d come here this evening to further humiliate her.

A persistent tap on his shoulder brought his attention back to the wild-eyed matron at his side.

"You're quite the dancer, aren't you?" Megan puffed. She drew another ragged breath and smoothed the side of her frizzy brown hair.

"Only with the right partner," he said, humoring her. He pulled at his sweaty collar and looked beyond her, longing for the right moment to escape.

"You know board members aren't supposed to fraternize with potential clients. Conflict of interests and all that," she claimed. “But I have to admit, it’s a good thing we met this evening."

"And why's that?"

"You’re an attractive young man. I have something you want. With a little imagination, we just might come up with a mutually beneficial arrangement."

His eyes swung back with astonishment. "Sorry…what did you say?"

Megan's hand gripped his forearm. “You know…a little prodding in all the right places.” Her brow inched up a fraction.

Chase tendered a weak smile. "Sounds painful."

She snorted a laugh, drawing the attention of a nearby couple. With her senses restored, she leaned in closer and lowered her voice. "I don't mind helping my
special
friends." She looked up at him through heavily lashed eyes.

He could feel his dry throat constricting.
Are you kidding?
His vision dropped to the woman’s gold glittery shoes – blaring and ostentatious as the woman herself. He glanced up at her again, unsure of what to say.

"I have a room at the Ambassador," she persisted. "If you want my support, meet me there in twenty minutes."

His thoughts scrambled for a foothold. An escape route from the B-rated movie he'd fallen into.

She reached into her purse and extracted a plastic card. She held it out before him. "Take the green elevator to the penthouse," she instructed. "And make sure to park your car on one of the side streets."

The fog in his brain cleared. He took a step back and lifted his hand, rejecting her offer. "Sorry, but I have a previous engagement. Maybe we could do this another time?"

Her face scrunched. "Go fuck yourself," she hissed.

Whoa!
Chase took a step back. The woman was obviously nuts. He turned away to escape and run straight into a tall, distinguished stranger.

"Excuse me,” Chase said.

“
General Van Dozer. Don’t believe we've met."

A multitude of ribbons and medals adorned the olden soldier's uniform. A red-handled saber was strapped to his side. His sudden appearance left Chase stunned, intimidated and grateful at the same time. He looked down at the man’s meaty palm, extended in his direction, and realized cooperation was the best policy.

“
Chase Cohen. It’s nice to meet you, sir,” he added to the exchange. A silent nod came in return.

Chase excused himself as quickly as possible and found a crowded noisy corner. As a tray passed by, he snagged a drink and threw it back in seconds flat. He watched from a safe distance as the officer glowered and glared at Megan. By all appearances, she steadfastly refused to look his way. It wasn’t long before he pressed his eccentric wife through the gathering, departing without so much as a backward glance.

With his dilemma now resolved, Chase resumed his search for Rachel. Off to his left, he caught sight of her ivory jacket – skirting around the crowd, making a beeline for the closest exit. He hurried after her and flung open the metal door. Soft glowing moonlight illuminated the walkway and captured her near the top of the stairs, leading to the rear parking lot.

"Rachel, wait up! I need to talk to you." He reached out for her elbow, but she surprised him by spinning around. Her green eyes flashed, reminding him that this new unpredictable Rachel was easily angered and slow to forgive. "If this is about Mrs. Van Dozer, I can tell you – ”

She shook her head and heaved an impatient sigh. “How long were you planning to keep your secret hidden?”

What? Devon was here? He chose tonight to tell her?
Like a foul ball, her accusation came from out of nowhere, knocking Chase for a loop. After all this time, Devon had finally spilled the beans – told her the real reason he’d left town so suddenly. No wonder she was so upset. It would take more than fancy footwork to get himself out of this mess. That was for sure.