Trouble and Treasure (#1, Trouble and Treasure Series) (28 page)

“
Do you know what the gift was called?”
Sebastian still had that professional look to him.

“
I can't remember, I think it was in
Ancient Greek or something.”

Sebastian nodded. He looked like he had a
secret, a secret that was tugging at the corner of his lips and
making him smile in the most charming of ways. “Ancient Greek for
stargazer perhaps?”

I frowned at him. “No, I think it was
light map or something. Anyhow, there was obviously nothing like
that in his estate, so the gift failed...”

“
Amanda,” he winked at me, “I'm fairly
proficient at Ancient Greek—”

“
As well as arrogance,” I interrupted
automatically.

He smiled easily at my jibe but continued.
“Amanda, trust me, because I have a feeling my Ancient Greek is
better than yours.” He pulled up one of the pieces of paper he’d
been pouring over and handed it to me. “Is this a copy of your
Great-Uncle Arthur Stanton's last will and testament?”

I laughed at the excessively professional
move, and managed to nod.

“
I am happy to inform you, Amanda Stanton,
my client,” there was a distinct kink to his lips, “There has been
a mistake, and the gift referred to here,” he pointed to a section
of the will, “Has been mistranslated. It should not read light map,
but stargazers, and I think you will find there are items within
your great-uncle’s estate that match the terms of that
gift.”

My lip wobbled down. “The will has already
been finalized,” my voice was quiet.

“
I think you'll find I am a good
lawyer.”

“
Sebastian... I’m not sure I want the
Stargazers. Look at all the trouble they’ve already caused me.” I
gestured to the door we were sitting next to, the one that had been
broken by world-class criminals.

“
Look,” he smiled again, “As your lawyer, I
can suggest selling the globe, using the funds to, I don't know,
maybe buy a nice house in the country.” He pointed to the kitchen,
clearly indicating the house we were already in.

I stared across at him, lips parted. “I do
not want to go through another one of those auctions,” I answered
honestly.

He burst into a low laugh. “Neither do I.
This time I suggest I find you a client and we sell it off
quietly.”

I looked at him. “Why don't I give it to
you?” I said quietly, saying the thought as soon as it leaped into
my mind, even if it was the stupidest thing to do.

He looked at me steadily
, and smiled. Though I’d seen Sebastian
smile before, I hadn’t seen a smile like this. It was personal. It
left a large question mark in my mind about my new lawyer Sebastian
Shaw – a question mark that invited me to scratch the surface and
find out who he truly was.

He shook his head. “Though as a treasure
hunter I would be willing to take you up on your ridiculously
generous offer, Amanda, as your lawyer, I advise against it. I can
help you find a client to sell it to,” he put up a hand before I
could look at him worriedly, “A perfectly legal and dignified
client. Possibly the army.”

I shrugged. “Seems fair. What about you?
Aren’t you still a treasure hunter?”

“
Don't worry about me, Amanda, Mark
wouldn't keep it all from me anyway. He’s an alright soldier, but
he is a terrible treasure hunter. The army will call on me, and
thankfully this time they won't send Maratova along for the
fun.”

I grimaced as he mentioned that horrible
man's name. “But you won't get to keep the treasure
yourself.”

“
It's never about keeping the treasure for
yourself, it's about finding it,” he said, a curious tone to his
voice. “Plus.” he drew something out from the deep pocket inside
his jacket.

It was my great-uncle's journal. I’d
forgotten about it. What with one thing and another, I hadn't
bothered to remember that within those yellowed and dried pages
were the potential locations of the remaining three
globes.

He leaned back on the stoop, handed me the
journal, and stared out at the beautiful morning beyond. “You know,
Amanda, you are pretty good at treasure hunting. You're better at
running away from trouble, but sometimes those two things go
hand-in-hand.” He turned to me, a particularly inviting smile on
his lips, “If you are ever interested in finding more treasure...”
he shrugged and trailed off.

My instant reaction was to laugh at him.
Considering the amount of 'trouble' I’d run away from last week,
there was no way I was ever going to put myself in a situation like
that again. Then I let my eyes drift down to the journal in my
hands, and a small but familiar kick of exhilaration crept through
my gut. Though it had been horrible, at times it had been
exciting.

As a girl I had sat on my great-uncle's
lap and listened with perfect attention as he’d told me stories of
adventure, danger, and treasure. I had imagined, way back then,
that I would grow up to have similar adventures of my
own.

Sebastian kept looking at me, and the offer
was clear, and with the distinct curl to his lips it almost seemed
as if there was something else on offer too.

Could I, mild-mannered Amanda Stanton,
become a treasure hunter?

“
It would be dangerous,” Sebastian added
with a shrug, “Very dangerous.”

“
I've dealt with dangerous,” I said
softly.

“
There would be a lot of trouble; there’s
always trouble,” he added with a sniff.

“
I have dealt with trouble too.” I didn't
take my eyes off him. “I am sure I would still need a good lawyer
to help me through it, though.”

Sebastian cracked into a grin and I mirrored
it all the way.

“
I'm a great lawyer,” he said, “Among other
things,” he added with a pretend formal nod.

“
Apparently I'm a pretty good treasure
hunter.” I sucked in my lips and gave a cheeky grin.

“
I think we might make a damn good team,
then, Amanda Stanton,” Sebastian said.

It was crazy, it was insane, it was, mad –
but I agreed with him.

I picked up my great-uncle's journal and
opened it on my lap.

Two Stargazers down, three to
go.

Thank you for reading Trouble and
Treasure. The next book in this series – The Cross of Constantine –
is currently available.

Sign up to the
Odette C. Bell
Newsletter
to
receive the sci-fi action adventure The Crucible episodes one and
two for free!

Odette C. Bell has written over 60 books
from sci-fi adventure to magical realism. Her full catalogue is
available
here.

Read on for an excerpt from A Deadly
Reunion

Patti doesn’t
want to be here. Would you?

She’s made something of herself. Rich and
well-respected, she’s got everything going for
her.
Except
for her past.
An
awkward, awkward geek in high school, she was the butt of every
joke. And Nancy – the all American, blonde, got-it-all prom queen –
was the ring leader.
Now
Patti’s back at her reunion. Why? God, she doesn’t know. To prove
something?
Well,
proving she’s changed is going to be easy. Proving who murdered the
guy in the rose bushes – that’s going to be hard. Half way through
the reunion, someone winds up dead in the garden, and Patti’s
pulled into the case.
Someone’s killing people from her senior class, and she’s
got to find out who before she’s the next
victim.
She
can’t solve this on her own. She needs help. Help that comes in the
chiseled jaw and perfect abs of Denver bloody Scott. Back in the
day, he was way out of her league. Now he’s an FBI agent with a
personality like a baseball bat. Together, they have to find the
murder before it’s too late ….

CHAPTER 1

I drummed my fingers on the steering wheel
as I stared at the road signs before me. I had my phone set to GPS,
but the gobbledygook instructions it suggested had already seen me
drive into a field, a forest, and a freaking quarry. This town was
so backwater even the modern age shied away from mapping it.

I craned my neck, narrowed my eyes, and
crept forward in my hire car. I was half on the verge, the tires
crunching over the grass and rock. I needn’t have worried about
obstructing the flow of traffic though, as there were no other
vehicles around.

The road was dead. Because the town was
dead. In fact, it had never been alive.

Wetlake City.

The place I’d grown up and promptly escaped
from once I had landed a driver’s license and my first pay
check.

Well, now I was back.

Reluctantly.

Really, really reluctantly.

My family had long since moved away from
this place, and I had no good reason to visit the scene of my
uneventful childhood. I had a bad reason though. A rotten one.

A high school reunion.

I took my hand off the wheel for a second
and flattened it against my head, pushing my shoulder-length
mousy-brown hair out of my eyes.

“Oh man,” I whimpered, blasting another
breath up and against my face.

I hated high school. I’d hated it when I’d
had the displeasure of attending, and I still hated it now, all
these years later.

Yet I was still going to my reunion. Why?
Because my mother had convinced me to go, of course. She’d tried
regaling me with stories of how much she’d enjoyed her own reunions
over the years, and when that hadn’t worked, she’d appealed to my
job instead.

“Just think of all the people you can watch
and lives you can observe,” she’d said. “Now’s your chance to find
out if the popular kids in school made it or crashed and burned.
You’ll be able to study their successes and failures for your
fabulous books! You’re always going on about how you’re over high
school, well now it’s your chance to prove it.”

I’d tried to ignore her advice, but she’d
won out. In typical motherly style, she’d appealed to my ego while
offering a challenge. I did spend a lot of time talking and writing
about how much I’d grown out of high school and grown up in the
process.

I had a successful string of self-help
romance books on the market. In them, I often harped on about how
important it was to move on from your past.

Now was my chance to prove I could do that
myself. Hence the hire car and the cynicism.

It took me a long time, but I found the
right street. Wetlake was up in the mountains, near a lake – a wet
one, funnily enough – and the city was like a damn rabbit warren of
tracks and winding woodland roads.

With a bit of luck and a couple of foggy
memories, I located my motel.

I pulled up into the car park, and took my
time before I yanked up the park brake and opened my door.

I took a sobering moment to stare at the
motel before me.

Drab, styled in shades of “70s brick
cladding and brown, plastic window frames, it was an eyesore.
Though I could have afforded to stay in better style, I’d booked
late, and this was the only place in town with any vacancies.

Narrowing my gaze as I took in the ugliness
that was the Lake Motel, I actually let out a snarl. A quiet and
private one.

Whispering to myself to “come on,” I flipped
the button under the dash to open the trunk. Taking angry, forceful
steps, I grabbed my luggage and dumped it on the gravel.