Treasure Tides (The Coins) (2 page)

Could it get any worse?
“Royce. It’s me, Sean.” Royce wrinkled his brow.
That voice sounded
awfully real.
“I know you hear me man, respond!”
He couldn’t even think straight, much less respond. That sounded a
lot like his Techno-Expert, Sean.
“Royce, your watch is a video transmitter. Talk to me.”
Glancing in the direction of his wrist, Royce saw a glow. Angling his
wrist to get a better look, which was not easy in the confined space, he
saw Sean’s goofy face on the screen of his watch.
“It’s about time, I was getting worried,” Sean complained with a grin.
“Worried? How long have I been MIA?” Royce croaked. His throat
was dry, but at least the drum beat in his head was subsiding.
Note to self;
next time you leave for a quick snatch & grab mission, stick some pain killers in
your pocket.
“You
do
have someone on the way to get me out of this
damn box, right?”
“Sure thing boss, help is on the way,” Sean answered, seeming less
than confident.
“So, how long have I been in here? The days have run together,”
Royce asked again.
“It’s been--, well, right at twenty-three months since you dropped off
the radar,” Sean answered hesitantly. “Wait till Joanna finds out. When
the alarm tripped on the tracking system earlier, I thought it was a false
reading,” he continued more enthusiastically.
“Come again?” Royce roared. “Did you say twenty-three
months
?”
“Well--, yes; but, we never gave up hope!
We knew you would
surface eventually.”
“
Eventually
? Twenty-three months, that’s two years!”
“Not quite,” Sean inserted quietly.
“What the hell have you been doing?
You have the best technology
in the world at your disposal, and you haven’t been able to find me in the
last
two years
? I’ve been in this box for two damn years?” Royce’s temper
was quickly reaching the boiling point. He banged angrily on the sides of
the crate with his fists, and although it moved slightly, it would not open.
“Hey man, calm down,” Sean soothed. “You’ve been in a box? So
that’s
how they did it.”
“They who?”
“That is still a mystery. But, we suspect the Witches.”
“Ya think?” Royce responded sarcastically.
“I’m showing your location just outside of Charleston, South
Carolina.” Royce could hear the keyboard clicking as Sean typed
furiously. “It looks like a marina.”
“No shit Sean, marinas are normally located close to large bodies of
water. Like the one I’ve been hanging out in,
trapped in a box
, for the last
two blasted
years
.” Royce was yelling now, his voice getting stronger and
louder.
This was the voice Sean knew; the voice that made his team quake in
their boots when someone screwed up.
Each member of the team,
hand-picked personally by Royce, knew that mistakes were not tolerated.
Mistakes in this line of work could result in death; yours, another
member of the team, or worse yet; the death of an innocent. Mistakes
could also, it seemed, put you at the bottom of the ocean for indefinite
periods of time. Royce took a breath, held it for a moment, and then
released it in a rush. He had made a big mistake, committed the cardinal
sin by relaxing his guard. That did not sit well with him. Thank God he
had been the only one to pay the price, this time.
“The crate is spelled, Royce. That’s why we couldn’t track you,” Sean
explained. “Your last known location was just off Battery Park twentythree months ago.
We dispatched a recovery team immediately, but
there was a storm, and we lost the signal.” He breathed a sigh of relief.
“I’m so glad you are ok. But-- you did have a great funeral,” Sean added
quietly.
“You had a funeral?” Royce asked, chuckling. “Well, I’m not dead
you idiot, so get your ass down here, and get me out of this damn box!”
Royce, who normally did not mind confined spaces, was beginning to
feel a little claustrophobic. He needed a drink, a cigarette, and a woman,
in that order. He pounded again on the sides and lid of the crate, testing
for weakness, looking for a way out. How did they even sandwich his
body into this thing?
He frowned, noticing that his body was not really
all that solid. It was, in fact, almost transparent. “Damn Witches,”
Royce muttered.
“We had to have a funeral Royce,” Sean explained. “We knew you
would resurface, but for everyone else--, you know we had to do it. By
the way, the
Wicked Witch of the West
is on her way. She has a ‘few things’
to talk to you about.” Sean didn’t envy Royce this particular bit of family
business, especially as pissed as she was at the moment.
“Don’t tell me-- Joanna?” Royce groaned. “You just had to call her,
didn’t you?” His head began to pound again.
Joanna was a valuable member of ART; she was also his sister. She
would yell at him for getting caught, little sparks of angry blue light
shooting from her eyes. After she got that out of her system, she would
fling her arms around him and hug him too tightly making him promise
never to do something like that again. Royce really hoped they could
skip the
crying
part of the reunion, he hated crying.
Joanna’s mother had married Royce’s father when Joanna was two
years old.
Royce had spent the last 20 years of his life watching over
her, trying to keep her safe; which was not an easy task when it came
to Joanna. Her special skills had started to manifest around age three.
Royce, who was at that time a teenager, hadn’t known that Witches
truly did exist. He certainly hadn’t known his father’s beautiful new
bride was a Witch.
He also had no clue that his father was leading a
special division of warriors who worked with a secret council to keep
the planet in balance.
Royce grew up quickly that summer.
He learned that the world
was full of things that could not be seen or heard, but could be felt, if
you were paying close enough attention.
He was a natural at paying
attention, so he chose to follow in his father’s footsteps to serve the
Secret Council of Elders.
After many intense conversations with his
father, Aaron, and step-mother, Tammy, Royce began training with
ART while he finished school. He kept a close eye on his baby sister,
sometimes studying in her room while she played or napped.
When
Joanna started floating objects and making things disappear, it had
been quite a shock; however the day she got mad and turned him into
a goat had been the worst day of his life.
Her teen years had been a
challenge for them all, because teenage Witches could experience
horrific mood swings.
Joanna also joined the team as soon as she could talk her parents
into it.
Of course, she used the argument that Royce would be there
to take care of her, and she could help take care of him. “Taking
care” translated to “meddling in”, and she often pushed the
boundaries of her power if she suspected he was in danger.
He
loved Joanna more than anything in the world and couldn’t wait to
see her.
Joanna’s mother, Tammy, had retired from the Secret Council at the
same time his father retired from the Special Ops team about five years
ago-- well, actually seven years ago.
Royce could not believe he had
been gone for almost two years.
Aaron and Tammy now spent their
time traveling and making their own adventures.
Maybe he should get
in touch with Tammy and his father to act as a buffer until Joanna
calmed down.
This time,
he thought,
she might actually turn him into a
“braying ass” as she had threatened to do so many times.

Sean sighed, “She was more-than-pissed that I lost you. I’m trying to
get back in her good graces. She said she is on her way back to the
States and mentioned something about Eeyore, but I didn’t catch it all.”

“Great.”
“I called your parents too. They said to give you their love and they
would see you soon. Tammy wanted to come right away, but Aaron said
they would let you get your bearings first.” Still typing at warp-speed,
Sean reassured him, “I’m assembling a recon team Royce, so just hang in
there. It might take a few days before we can get to you. The coin that
surfaced in Rio turned out to be very tedious, so everyone has been
dispatched to bring it in. The Council doesn’t want to take any chances.
Evidently this one is particularly nasty.”
Royce started to ask for details on the ‘nasty’ coin, but he could hear
voices approaching.
Details would have to wait until he got out of this
box, which he hoped would be sometime very soon.
“Someone is approaching, we’ll discuss it later.” He whispered to
Sean. However, there was one tidbit of information that wouldn’t wait,
“Do you have any idea when this thing will open?”
“It seems to be connected with the tide or moon. I’m not sure, but
I’m working on it.”
“Work faster, damn it,” Royce instructed, clenching his jaw tightly.

“Thanks for coming out here with me Landon.” A female voice
filtered through the crate.
That sounded like the girl who found him earlier today-- Becki?
He
owed her, for the accidental rescue.
He would have to send flowers
from an anonymous admirer.
“I know it’s late, but I wanted to get my gear home and cleaned up
tonight. Uncle Kurt would kill me if I waited ‘til tomorrow.” She puffed
out her chest and spoke in a deep voice, imitating her uncle, “Your
diving gear is your lifeline. Treat it that way,” she said with a scowl.
Immediately a smile replaced the mock scowl, “I’ve heard the lecture a
hundred times, so thanks for the save.”
Landon flashed a dimple, “You know he just wants you to be safe.”
Landon was quite the lady’s man, with thick muscles, blond hair, and
baby blue eyes that almost danced.
He was the stuff dreams were made
of.
Landon and Kurt had been friends most of their adult lives. As
surrogate Uncle to Kurt’s three daughters, he had immediately included
Becki in that category when she moved in with her uncle last year. Becki
normally worked the late shift, so it was nice to have a night-owl like
Landon around when she needed the odd “late-night rescue”.
Landon had just closed down the One-Eyed Parrot. He had spent
the last two hours trying to dodge the blond, busty, female barracuda
circling the bar. He knew with certainty that he didn’t want her to catch
him, even if her husband
was
paying more attention to his poker hand
than he was to his wife. Becki’s call had come in the nick of time giving
Landon a way to bow out gracefully.
Landon had never been married and did not have children of his own.
Someday, he hoped to meet his mate, but right now he was enjoying his
freedom and having fun. Landon’s kind mated for life, so he didn’t
mind playing the field for the time being; there was no need to rush into
anything. He would go to the ends of the Earth for Kurt’s girls, which
now included Becki. Tonight’s rescue was not an inconvenience to him.
Clarissa, the oldest of Kurt’s three daughters, recently turned sixteen
and started dating. Her first date had sent Kurt and Landon into a panic,
and
ok
--, perhaps they hadn’t handled it in the
best
way-; the night had
ended with Clarissa stomping up the stairs and threating to move away.
It seems that her date took offense to the camo gear and firearms
strapped to their chests.
Kurt’s younger girls, Leann age fourteen and Mandy twelve, were sure
to be heart breakers as well. Maybe they would get it figured out before
Leann started dating, but neither of them was willing to make any
promises.
Becki, Kurt’s twenty-two year old niece, had recently moved to South
Carolina. Her mother had laughed and told them that Becki was “their
practice run”, a chance to watch over and worry about someone who is
reaching for independence.
It was a much more difficult job than they
had thought it would be.
“I just love it here,” Becki said stepping off the pier and onto her
boat, left foot first. “I’m so glad I have family-- and
great
friends-- to
help out in my times of need. Thanks again,” Becki said as she gave
Landon a quick hug.
“There it is,” she said motioning toward the crate. “Could we put it
in your truck and drop it by my house?” Becki asked. “I’m pretty sure it
won’t fit in my car.”
“That’s no surprise. Not much will fit in that little clown car,”
Landon said, as he sized up the crate.
“Hey, be nice to Bee. I look hot driving her,” Becki said laughing as
she slugged him on the shoulder.
Leaving the crate to Landon, Becki turned to start gathering her dive
gear. She and Jonah had been looking for shark’s teeth, but didn’t score
any today. Local shop owners loved to get sharks’ teeth because they
were a big hit with tourists. She had found a Megalodon tooth that had
sold for over two-hundred dollars. Hunting for teeth was a hobby for
Becki.
It was like an underwater Easter egg hunt, and the fact that she
could make money doing something she loved was a bonus.
“What do you have in here anyway, a body? It’s heavy,” Landon
groaned as he tested the weight of the box.
He could have carried the
thing all the way home in one hand but didn’t want Becki to know the
extent of his strength. It would lead to questions he did not want to
answer.
“Don’t be such a sissy; use those big muscles. I put it on the boat
myself it’s not that heavy,” Becki scoffed.
Put it on the boat herself? It had to weigh more than two hundred pounds
. “I’ll
be right back. I want to see if Jack has a two wheeled cart we can use,”
he called to her as he jumped onto the dock with superior agility.
Seriously, what is wrong with him?
Becki rolled her eyes as she watched
him stride away. He didn’t seem to have trouble lifting kegs of beer, and
they were heavier than that crate! Becki would just load it in his truck
herself, while he was tracking down Jack and the cart.
As she moved toward the crate, she heard a voice saying “Move
faster, damn it”. She looked around, but didn’t see anyone.
Ok, that was
kind of creepy, but sound does travel funny on the water
, she told herself.
Landon would be back any second--, she hoped.
Becki grabbed a hold of the crate and started to pick it up only to find
that she could not budge it. “Shit, this thing
is
heavy,” she said out loud.
It was
certainly
heavier
than she
remembered.
Frowning, she
wondered how she was able to heave it into the boat earlier. Maybe it
was just waterlogged now. Suddenly her cell phone vibrated, signaling an
incoming call. Her sister’s picture flashed on the display.
“Oh no, now what?” she muttered as she lifted the phone to her ear,
“Natie? Hello?”
“I’m so sick of his ass,” Natie mumbled.
Becki heard her sister sniffing and knew she was crying,
again
, over
that idiot.
“He thinks he can just do whatever he wants, and I should be ok with
it. He gets mad when I ask where he is going and what he is doing, but
is it any wonder I don’t trust him! He’s been texting someone all
evening. I
know
it’s that bimbo from the restaurant downstairs.”
“Oh Natie, I’m sorry. Do you want me to come over?” Becki
offered.
“No,” Natie answered, “you don’t need to come all the way
downtown.”
“I know you’re probably not in the mood to hear this, but you
deserve better than that jerk,” Becki said, feeling her face turn red with
anger. “I would dump his lame ass in a hot minute.”
“I know,” Natie sniffed again. “Well, I hear him swiping the key card
now. He’s probably so drunk he has it in backwards. I need to go let
him in before he wakes up everyone else in the hotel.”
“Yes, it would be a shame if he was arrested for public intox,” Becki
agreed, wanting nothing more than to drive downtown and beat his head
in.
“Don’t be mean to him when you see him tomorrow,” Natie begged.
“I love you, and I’ll text you when I’m done with my pedi. Night.”
“Night, call me if you need me.”
What a total jackass
, Becki thought as
she ended the call.
Landon strolled down the pier; pushing a cart in front of him,
“Success!” he bragged, wiggling his eyebrows up and down.
“It’s about time,” Becki replied, glancing around. “Did you see
anyone else close by?”
Landon frowned, “No, why?” he asked, breathing deeply. If anyone
were around, he would know it. He did not pick up the scent of anyone
close by. “Is your imagination working overtime, scaredy-cat?” he
teased, as he maneuvered the cart as close to the boat as possible.
“Oh, kiss my ass. Why would I be scared with a big strong bonehead like you to protect me?” Becki asked, fluttering her eyes in mock
adoration.
“Exactly,” Landon made a fist, showcasing his “guns”. “Now let’s
get this loaded so I can get home before the sun comes up.”
As if it mattered, sunlight did not bother him in the least, unlike
Vamps who dealt with daylight limitations.
In recent years, their
“daylight allergy” had become less of an issue due to new breakthroughs
in technology. In Landon’s opinion, Vamps were bad enough at night
without
technology enabling
them to roam during
daylight
hours.
Progress was not always a good thing.
“Whatever,” Becki said, moving to the opposite side of the crate.
“You were the one who had to go find Jack so you could use the cart.
Let’s get this show on the road, my feet are killing me.”
It had been a long day with Natie and Jonah and an even longer night
at work. The kitchen was backed up, customers were grouchy, and two
waitresses had called in sick. The approaching tropical storm didn’t help
anyone’s attitude. Hurricane Hugo had devastated the area years ago, so
everyone watched tropical storms pretty closely now.
Landon gripped his side of the crate. “Now, when I say lift, we lift
and walk toward the pier and set it down close to the cart. Ready? One,
two, three... lift.”
Royce braced himself, certain that he was about to be dropped.
Oh
shit, here we go.
Landon made sure to support the bulk of the crate, but let Becki
think she was helping. Soon it was loaded into his truck, and they were
on their way to Becki’s house. Shaking his head, he watched Becki take a
corner at warp speed; she was practically on two wheels.
Fast
was the
only way she knew how to drive a car. Why her parents ever bought her
a sports car, he would never know. She really needed a Sherman Tank.
She was already trudging up the steps to the front door when he pulled
in the driveway. Landon knew she had been out on the water today and
then worked a full shift. She looked like she was dragging.
“I’ll get this,” he said, when she started back down the stairs to come
and help him. “You go in and sit down a minute. I’ll come through to
say goodnight before I leave.”
“Deal,” she answered gratefully, “I’ll let you in the back door.”
Glancing around to make sure no one was watching, he slid the crate
out of the truck-bed. Once on the ground, he strapped it to the cart,
wheeled it into the back yard, and placed it on her deck.
“‘Night,” Landon called as he walked through the living room on his
way out the front door to Becki’s house. “I put the crate on your deck.
Lock up when I leave to keep the crazies out.”
“I think it’s too late,” Becki laughed, “one already got in.” Following
him to the door, she handed him a glass of sweet tea to-go. “I’ll see you
tomorrow. Thanks again for rescuing this damsel in distress.”
“Any time darlin’,” he said stepping through the doorway and pulling
the door closed behind him. He stood waiting until he heard the lock
click into place. “Get some sleep!” Landon called as he stepped off the
porch and walked silently to his truck.
He would make someone a nice catch Becki decided. She would start
keeping her eyes open for someone she thought might be good for him.