Severed Threads (7 page)

Still keeping her attention, Dr. Ying told Rachel an astonishing tale about Mai Le’s treasure. Before he was through, he added a surprising twist. "Prophecy foretells of a lion rescuing the dragon’s heart. This is your destiny, Rachel," he pleaded. "Your chance to turn your father’s dream into reality."

She looked around, weighing her options. There was nothing she wanted more than to mend the past – to earn her father’s forgiveness and respect. But Dr. Ying had lied before. Why should she believe him now?

“
It’s been four years, Dr. Ying. Why hasn’t anyone gone after the
Wanli II
, if it’s actually there like you say?”

“
Sam kept it a secret. No one knew where he was headed or what he was up to. That’s not to say divers and salvagers haven’t been in the same waters. But there haven’t been any reports or claims filed. It wasn’t till Chase came back and discovered the plate that this adventure began again.”

Rachel glanced away for a moment. “I still don’t understand my part in all of this.”

"Find the ship and your father will receive his long overdue reward. The museum will fund a permanent exhibition to honor his memory,” he assured her. “Bring back the heart and you’ll earn
your
place in history.”

Her eyes returned to the
Orient
, a treasure ship still buried in debate. What if he was right? The ship's rotting remains were sitting on the ocean floor, just waiting to be raided, dismantled and ruined. Yet as selfish and unprincipled as it seemed, her decision could end all the nightmares – could finally put her father’s memory to rest.

She needed time to digest everything, to feel confident in her answer. "I’ll get back to you as soon as I can," she said.

"Please keep in mind," he implored, "time and secrecy are of the essence. The foundation you represent would, of course, have the first right of refusal for acquired assets though its capital investment. But controversy lies in the fact that this historical ship technically belonged to China. Due to the crew’s tarnished reputation, however, Emperor Wanli claimed no knowledge of this ship. Thus, if found, it becomes an abandoned shipwreck, entitling the finder to a sizeable reward. My contacts in Shanghai have provided me with records and documents affirming its existence. However, the greatest challenge comes in locating adequate proof to validate a salvager’s claim in federal court. That’s what your father was focused on, what he had hoped to accomplish. My concern is that once word of this discovery spreads, potential investors and raiders will surface. Security will become a greater problem."

Rachel heaved a deep sigh. “I understand.”

With each departing step, she evaluated the burden of her decision. If she stood firm with her present position, she might not only jeopardize the recovery of valuable artifacts, she could potentially eliminate a tremendous funding source that could greatly benefit both the museum and the foundation.

There was also the local economy to consider. Every week jobs were being eliminated – businesses were closing. Income from tourism and agriculture was on a steady decline. Over the past four months, the very home she lived in had dropped considerably in market value. Although she’d be forced to curb her anger and forthright convictions, her verdict could potentially change lives, create jobs and restore community pride. Turn San Palo into a thriving destination location. Yet one determining question remained. Could she put aside pride and work with Chase Cohen on a daily basis?

That answer would keep her up most of the night.

Six

"What the
hell’s
wrong with you?"

Selena’s voice invaded Devon's sleep. His eyebrows pinched from the unforgiving glare of morning sun. The sight of her naked body beside him refreshed his memory of their sweat-soaked night together.

“
Morning." He smiled and reached for her waist.

She smacked his arm. "Get your hands off."

Cute.
He reached for her again and found the softness of a thigh. "You didn’t seem to mind where I put my hands a few hours ago."

"Grow up." She scrambled out of the sheets and started throwing on her clothes. Evidently, dawn had again turned the coach into a pumpkin.

Devon rolled over and buried his face in a pillow, too tired to dissect the female psyche. It was a wonder Mars and Venus hadn’t collided by now, breaking into a million floating and thoroughly confused fragments in space.

"I should have known better than to stick my nose into whatever scheme you’ve got going," she muttered.

Her words – about Pollero, about the rocky deal – slowly seeped into his brain. Neither sleep nor sex was going to happen. He groaned into the encased goose down. "I told you it’s nothing you need to worry about."

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah."

"Then why am I getting text messages from Bo Novak, asking me if
I’m
involved?"

Devon turned his head and noted the small cell phone clasped in her hand. "Who’s Bo Novak?"

"He’s one of my brother’s goons, you idiot. And he says you flat out stole their money. You’d better get your ass out of bed, unless you’d like Bo to do it for you."

Haze thinning, he sat up. The full impact of her claims hit him, sending his gaze toward the window. No cars, no armed mobsters. Yet.

He scanned his bedroom for his robe. No, jeans. Jeans were better. He reached for a wad of denim from the floor and pulled on his pants. "Are they on their way?" He struggled with the zipper.

In her black knit dress, Selena bent down to buckle the strap up on her sandals. "Just great, Dev. You’re in a shitload of trouble and now you’ve pulled me into it too."

That didn’t answer the question. "I asked you if they’re coming here," he reiterated.

"I have no idea. But you wanna know what I
do
know?"

Uh-oh. Here it comes.

Selena pulled on her shoulder bag and marched over to face him. He prepared for a smack, a scolding, a shove to move him aside. Instead, her simmering eyes met his.

“
You lied to me.”

Her voice bordered on a whisper. The hurt sparked an ache in his chest. Time to tell her the truth.

His hand reached out and cradled her cheek. "Selena...I’m sorry. But, I can explain."

She shook her head, her jaw set. Without a word, she pulled away and headed down the hall.

"Baby, wait..." He followed behind and caught her arm as she reached the front door. "Just look at me. Give me a chance."

Eyes down, she slowly turned toward him. She paused before raising her gaze, as if she had to muster the effort. "You had your chance and you blew it." She spoke with conviction. "So you might as well get out of town while you still can. Because I don’t ever want to see you again."

Her fervent expression held him in place, speechless. Never had their bickering – a form of foreplay, in his mind – ever carried such weight or delivered such a sting.

"Good-bye, Devon."

She walked out. And he let her. What choice did he have? She was right. He had lied. And he was certainly in a shitload of trouble.

If Devon wanted any chance of getting her back, he had to clean up the mess he’d gotten suckered into. Ironically, she was the only reason he was in this spot. By agreeing to launder her brother's drug money in a single transaction and line his pockets with inflated returns, he had hoped to finally gain Pollero's acceptance. To openly pursue Selena without fearing retaliation.

Devon inhaled her perfume, which still lingered in the air. He wasn't about to give up on that dream. He caught a glimpse of the clock on the fireplace mantle across the room. Half past eight. Plenty of time to straighten out his life, if he hurried.

Foregoing a shower, he pulled a gray sweatshirt over his head. He tossed some essentials into a blue sports bag, not sure exactly how far his hunt would take him, but determined not to come back until he had his missing boss by the crook of his neck.

Seven

Even though the sun was dipping on the horizon, Chase insisted on maintaining their position. He lowered his binoculars and spat the stub of his well-chewed cigar toward the vessel anchored two hundred yards out.
Legend.
The 90-foot rig carried a regal name and top of the line equipment, but her crew was an unscrupulous lot. Five years earlier, while working the
Dorchester
site with Sam, they were forced to go to court and were robbed of their landmark discovery. Now the bandits were back – challenging
Alegria.
Hovering over the
Wanli’s
buried remains.

"Fuckin’ pikeys," Ian cursed for the hundredth time. "We’re gonna lose the whole lot." He gripped the wheel of Chase’s boat with both hands, knuckles whitening.

"They’d have their ROV down, if they had any clue," Chase assured him, hoping and praying he was right. The caged robotic vehicle was still harnessed on their competitor’s massive afterdeck. But once it hit the ocean floor, their chances of finding something substantial would multiply.

"Perhaps you’re right, mate. But the longer we sit here, twiddlin’ our thumbs, the sooner they’ll be finding our gold."

"And what exactly do you propose we do? Blow them up?"

Ian cocked a bushy brow.

"Don’t even think about it."

"Well, it’s a sight better than babysittin’ that fuckwit."

Chase shot a glance aft. He had no idea how much time had elapsed since Blaine’s last dive, but he was bound to surface soon. "Whether you like it or not, that
fuckwit
is keeping my boat in the water." The words had barely left his mouth when a hand reached the top rung on the ladder. A pair of fins slapped the afterdeck. Chase wasn’t prepared for the scowl that followed. Apparently Blaine hadn’t appreciated his nickname.

As Ian lifted the tank off of their meal ticket’s back, Chase perpetuated his ruse.

"Did you see that rare, enormous blue-spotted manta ray Ian was telling you about?"

Blaine jerked the towel out of Chase’s hand. He wiped his face and replaced his round coke-bottle glasses. "Just take me back," he ordered.

"Are you sure? We still got a tank left. It’s bound to show up sooner or later."

"I’ve been hungry for over two hours," Blaine complained. Actually, it hadn't been more than an hour-and-a-half since he first grumbled about going back for lunch. But there was no point in Chase correcting him. "If you want to get paid anytime soon, I’d suggest turning this boat around." He tossed the towel in a heap and dropped into the khaki folding chair. With his back to them, he appeared to be staring at rolling waves in the distance.

Chase moaned inside. They’d agreed to bring the kid along only to get their equipment out of hock and to cover fuel costs for another round trip. If everything had gone according to plan, by now he and Ian would be floating filled goody bags instead of waiting for pirates to ransack their treasure. As he caught another glimpse of
Legend
, Chase found himself fighting the urge to use the pipsqueak as a negotiable hostage.

Once the anchor was raised, Chase turned over the engines. He was about to throw the throttle into gear when an unlikely solution dawned on him. Angling toward Blaine, he posed the two-hundred-thousand-dollar question – the question that could revive their slackened salvage operation. “Say, kid. How’d you like to be part of a treasure hunt?"

Ian nearly launched out of the co-pilot seat. But Chase’s scowl silenced him in nothing flat. After sinking back into the white vinyl chair, Ian folded his arms over his chest.

"Mmm…" Blaine’s gaze had found something over Chase’s shoulder. When he smiled and nodded his head, it appeared the genius was putting two and two together. "So, you want me to join your expedition?" he asked.