Treasure of Love (5 page)

Everyone was on the edge of their seat, especially Brad and Mac. They wanted an adventure, and by God, an adventure was what they were getting. Brad couldn’t contain himself any longer. “I’m so excited, I think I’m peeing down both legs,” he said with a grin. That broke the ice, and everyone, including Dax, had to chuckle at that. Mac nudged and shushed him and motioned for Dax to continue.

He next explained that they would start the search at the actual coordinates the captain had recorded just before the ship went down, which were very different from the eyewitness accounts, and work their way further south from there. It would be endless days of crawling along at idle speeds up and down, back and forth along imaginary grids, stopping only to mark a potential spot for a reconnaissance dive. He handed Jack the general coordinates and asked him to chart the imaginary grid and commit to navigating it as closely as possible. This would allow the sonar to do its job and cover every inch of the target area.

Dona spoke next. They would all work together during the day, but at night they would work four-hour shifts to make sure every station was covered. She began to outline their responsibilities. Since she and Dax had the most experience identifying structures that would indicate a possible wreck site, they would share responsibility for monitoring the sonar equipment. Jack, along with Dax and Dona, were the most-trained divers, so they would share responsibility for reconnaissance dives. Since Brad and Mac were certified divers, after their crew responsibilities they would be in charge of maintaining the dive equipment and assisting on dives when needed. Mac, being a pilot, would also share responsibility for captaining the boat when Jack was taking his four-hour break, and Brad would act as a floater wherever he was needed.

By the time dinner was over, everyone knew their role and felt energized to be part of the expedition—everyone except Jack. He knew he was being petty and that this was Dax’s expedition, but he wasn’t happy that Dax was running the show on his boat. He decided that he would roll with it for now, but if Dax continued to treat him like crew on his own boat, he would put his foot down.

After dinner and briefing, everyone helped clean the galley and talked about turning in early. Jack took the lead and retired to his master cabin. Mac and Brad took the V-berth, and Dax and Dona each had their own cabin next to one another. They would use the fourth crew berth as home base, and set up all the equipment in the smaller cabin.

Jack sat at the tiny desk in his cabin, toed off his deck shoes, and for the next thirty minutes listened to the comings and goings of everyone getting settled in their cabins. Eventually, the crew settled down, and all he heard were the gentle waves lapping along the hull and the slight whistle of the breeze through his cabin porthole.

He started to review the navigational charts and the coordinates Dax had given him, and he found his mind wandering.
Dax Powers, what an ass. The man sure has a lot of nerve. Yeah, he’d chartered my boat, but he hasn’t spent a penny. Mac and Brad and I are sharing the cost of fuel and provisions, and if we find nothing, together we’ll be out half the expenses. Maybe I was too hasty and should have passed on this charter.

But then a gleam entered his eye.
On the other hand, what if we do find the wreck, and what if there is ten million dollars worth of gold on board? I’ll have a couple million dollars in my pocket after I cover expenses and pay Mac and Brad. I can certainly live with that.

He stared at the charts, not really paying attention. He just couldn’t stop thinking about Dax and Dona. What was it about Dax that rubbed him the wrong way? Why was he so fixated on him? Jack didn’t know the answer, but he knew there was something that just didn’t sit right with him. Dona, on the other hand, was an impressive woman, and a looker too. She technically knew her stuff, but his mind wandered back to Dax. It was very clear that Dax had the passion for treasure hunting, by the way his eyes lit up when he talked about every minute detail of the wreck.

Jack shook his head to try and clear his mind. He forced himself to focus on the charts and finally charted their course from the coordinates Dax had given him. First thing in the morning, he would plug the coordinates into the Global Satellite Positioning, or GPS, computer, and that in turn would allow the autopilot to track the course without the need of paper charts.
Enough for one day
, he thought. He pushed away from his little desk and turned off his desk lamp. He undressed, hit the head, and then climbed into his bunk. He tossed and turned, unable to sleep. He started to think about Dona in the cabin next door. He pictured her tall, graceful frame slowly undressing and sliding into bed. His dick started to take notice of his fantasy. He reached over to the nightstand drawer and removed a small bottle of lotion.
This will do the trick
, he thought as he squeezed the smooth liquid into his hand and started rubbing his already-hard cock. He pictured Dona lying next to him and kissing every inch of his body from head to toe. He then pictured her straddling him and lowering herself onto him. He gasped when his cock entered her smooth, velvety tunnel. As she rode him, in his mind, his hand moved faster and faster. He felt that all-too-familiar release about to explode as his balls drew up inside him. As the first shot of his warm load landed on his chest, he closed his eyes and, much to his dismay, it wasn’t Dona’s face he saw, but Dax’s.

“What the fuck,” he whispered. He didn’t even acknowledge the second and third shots as they hit his chest. “Now the guy is tormenting me in my fantasies.”

F
IRST
light came, with the crew chomping at the bit to get started. Jack, in a piss-poor mood with not much sleep, had hit the bridge at five o’clock that morning to check the weather report and program the GPS. Still preoccupied with the previous night’s fantasy cluster-fuck, he fired up his engines as the rest of the crew tended to the lines and fenders. He sounded two whistle blows to signal their departure as he maneuvered the boat away from the dock. Everyone was so excited and preoccupied with their assigned jobs that no one noticed the man sitting in the black Mercedes sedan with binoculars, studying them as they made their way out of port.

The
Lindsey C
’s dark hull smoothly parted the waters of the Lynn Canal while Jack started to prepare his search grid.
Damn if I’m going to look like an amateur to Dax. After all, I was captaining a boat when he was just starting to wear Pull-Ups. Well, probably not. I’m thirty-six, and he doesn’t appear to be much older than twenty-nine or thirty.
Then the thought of Dax in Pull-Ups made him smile.

Dax was about to enter the bridge when he stopped short in his tracks. Jack was sitting in his captain’s seat, fiddling with the GPS unit and wearing the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen on a man’s face. It took everything he had not to walk up behind him, throw his arms around Jack’s waist, and hold on for dear life. But Dax knew he had to keep his distance and keep Jack hating him, or he’d never survive this expedition. The minute Jack warmed up to him, he’d be a goner. Dax stood up straight, wiped the smile off of his face, and walked onto the bridge.

“What are you smiling about?” he asked.

Startled out of his thoughts, Jack looked at Dax, blushed, and said, “You really don’t want to know.”

“Try me,” Dax replied.

“Nah, I think I’ll pass,” Jack said. “But thanks for asking.”

“Suit yourself,” Dax said. “Are you through with the grid?”

“I’ve got our first few days completed, based on your coordinates, and will have a fifty-mile block finished by the end of the day tomorrow.”

“Jack, I need those by the end of the day,” Dax said.

Jack took a deep breath, about to give Dax a piece of his mind, but before he could speak, Dax said, “Now, can this tub go any faster?”

Jack felt the heat rise up into his face. “Why, you little prick,” he said. “Let me remind you that this is
my
boat and
I’m
the captain. I don’t care how you ran your boat, but on my boat, I set the speed and I decide when we move and when we stop. Got it? Now get off
my
bridge,” he said, with an emphasis on “my.”

“Well, aren’t you an arrogant piece of shit?” Dax snapped. “Who do you think is paying for this charter?”

“Certainly not you,” Jack barked back. “Unless, of course, you’re paying in insults, because otherwise I haven’t seen a dime from you.” Jack paused and held his breath for a second to calm down, and then he continued. “Every dime spent to get this boat ready has come from me. Sure, we have a contract, but based on your recent fuck-up, it may not be worth the paper it’s written on. Now what part of
get off my bridge
did you not understand?”

For a second Jack thought he recognized a hurt look on Dax’s face. But just as quickly as the look came, it disappeared, leaving nothing but anger in his hazel-colored eyes.

Dax turned to leave the bridge, stopped, and looked back. “You’ll get your money, Jack. By God, if it kills me, you’ll get your fucking money.”

They reached the strike zone, and Jack idled the engines while Dona and Dax, with the help of Mac and Brad, carefully lowered the sonar equipment into the water. Dona had spent the time underway in the crew berth, setting up the sonar receiver and the receiver for the
Hunter II
, which was the unmanned remotely operated vehicle (ROV), which would transmit pictures from below the surface should they need to investigate a particular site. Earlier that morning she’d wired the bridge directly to the crew berth so they could communicate privately, without broadcasting highly classified information over a two-way radio.

With the sonar equipment safely underwater, she made her way down to the crew berth to join Dax. She flipped on the radio and pressed the transmit button.

“Base to bridge, Jack do you read?”

“Loud and clear, Dona,” Jack responded.

“Perfect,” she said. “Sonar is loaded and ready to go.”

“Roger that,” Jack said as he put the boat in gear.

The
Lindsey C
began to slowly inch forward.

“What speed would you like to maintain?” Jack asked.

“Let’s try and keep her between five to seven knots, and see how it goes.”

“Roger that.”

Jack engaged the autopilot and sat back to see how his boat responded to his charted course. The first few turns were fairly quick and tight because of the sheer confinements of the grid, but the maneuvers got wider with each pass, and things quickly evened out. In a very short time, the
Lindsey C
was steadily creeping along, approaching each waypoint, then changing course and heading to the next. If Dona or Dax saw anything interesting on the sonar, they would radio the bridge to idle the engines, get the exact coordinates, and do a print screen of the computer monitor to record the coordinates and proceed again.

As Dax and Dona sat in the dark quiet of the crew cabin with only the glow from the computer screens, Dax used his time to decide how to divide the crew into shifts. He’d not seen Jack since he’d stormed off the bridge that morning and knew Jack was doing his best to avoid him. He normally didn’t care if he was disliked, and was especially happy when people avoided him, but Jack avoiding him, although he knew it was probably for the best, really rubbed him the wrong way.
If he thinks he can avoid me, I’ll show him.

Dax assigned Dona and Mac shift one, which left him and Jack to share the second shift.
This’ll really piss him off
, Dax thought. Since Brad had little to do besides his crew chores until they actually started diving, Dax assigned him the job of floating between base and the bridge, checking on Mac and Dona and getting them anything they might need. Everyone would work four hours on and four hours off.
That’ll give me four hours to torment Jack into really hating me
. And that thought saddened him, but he knew it was for the best.

When Mac took a copy of the shift schedule to the bridge, he knew it would be the straw that broke the camel’s back. And he was right; Jack was as pissed off as Mac had ever seen him. “That son of a bitch is determined to taunt me, day in and day out,” Jack yelled. “But not anymore. Take the helm, Mac.”

In a huff, Jack stormed off the bridge on a direct route to home base. He turned the corner into the crew berth and ran smack into Brad, who was on his way out of the small space. Brad saw the look in Jack’s eyes, and having seen that look a time or two in his day, knew what it meant and got out of his way. Dax and Dona were staring at the computer monitor. Dax looked up with a slight grin on his face, and said, “Hey, Jack.”

Dax studied Jack, standing in the companionway door and looking as good as any man ever had. His hands were at his sides, clenched tightly into fists, and his face was as red as a Coca-Cola can.
Sexy as hell
.

“Don’t
hey, Jack
me, you son of a bitch. I’ve taken just about enough of your bullshit on my boat as I’m gonna take. Who the hell do you think you are?”

Dax continued to stare at Jack in the doorway.
Damn, he looks hot when he’s angry
.

“What’s blown up your skirt, Jack?” he asked in a very calm voice, all the while still grinning.

“Don’t act innocent with me, you arrogant piece of shit. You know what’s
blown up my skirt
, as you call it. Lots of things have
blown up my skirt
since you boarded
my boat
, but why in the hell would you schedule us to work together when it’s pretty obvious we hate each other?”

“Why, Jack, I don’t hate you, and I’m deeply crushed to learn that you hate me. What have I ever done to you?”

“For starters, you’ve done nothing but taunt and disrespect me on my own boat since you first stepped out of the taxi at the dock. You wouldn’t speak to me. You wouldn’t have shaken my hand if Dona hadn’t broken a rib to make you do it. And you try to tell me what to do at every turn. You’re a socially inept ass is what you are, Dax,” Jack continued.