Hot as Hell (Deep Six 0.5)(25)

Tony flashed Gene a reassuring wink before lifting the satellite phone in his hand and barking two words: “Go time.”





Chapter 3


6:35 p.m.…

“I don’t think I’m always right,” Mason said. “I just think I’m hyper-f*ckin’-competent, which leads to a higher-than-usual occurrence of being right.”

“Well, I guess you really put me in my place, didn’t you, Mr. Muscles McSmartypants?” Alex countered. “But I’m telling you, I heard somewhere that—”

“And here comes the useless trivia.” Mason’s exasperation was evident to Bran, even though he was high above the deck of the catamaran in the captain’s chair, busy keeping the mainsail full of the warm wind blowing across Hawk Channel and trying to read the fast currents doing their best to pull the sailboat off course.

“Just so we’re clear,” Alex huffed, crossing her arms and glaring at Mason, “I think I like you better when you aren’t speaking.”

Bran frowned down at the two of them. They’d been trading insults since he weighed anchor and set sail for the Dry Tortugas. It was amazing how two people could take such extreme delight in rubbing each other the wrong way.

Amazing and annoying. Definitely annoying.

“Remind me again why you two are here?” he called to them. Then, on second thought… “Remind me again why I’m here?” There had to be a reason. Although, for the life of him, he couldn’t remember what it was.

Alex turned and shaded her eyes against the glare of the running lights he’d clicked on after the sun sank slow and lazy into the sea to the west. The moment it had touched the water, however, it was as if something hungry was waiting for it there, sucking it down quickly and leaving nothing but a reddish-orange smear in its place. Stars were breaking through the darkening sky overhead, and the blue waters had turned a silvery gray in the deepening dusk.

Bran loved being at sea. Out here he was so free and…removed. Out here he could forget who he really was.

“You’re here because your pride wouldn’t let you back down when LT started making bok-bok noises at you after I told him about Madison Powers’s invitation,” Alex called to him, a grin kicking up the corners of her mouth.

Roger that. Now he remembered. His best friend had always known how to goad him into doing things he didn’t want to do. The rat bastard.

“I’m here because I’ve never been to the Dry Tortugas and the historian in me considered that a crying shame,” Alex continued. “Plus, there’s nothing any of us can do to prepare for the search dives tomorrow. And if I stayed around Wayfarer Island, I wouldn’t get any sleep. I’m too amped up.”

Amped up. Because after carefully cleaning the hilt of the cutlass, they’d discovered markings that fit the description of a short sword belonging to none other than the great Captain Bartolome Vargas himself. Which meant Alex’s theory about the Santa Cristina having gone down in the waters around Wayfarer Island might actually prove correct.

Bran should’ve been vibrating with excitement too. But no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t get more than half his mind to focus on the amazing find. The other half remained stubbornly obsessed with the distance that separated Wayfarer Island and the Dry Tortugas. With the distance between him and the wonderful, wise-cracking, completely off-limits Maddy Powers.

So close.

And getting closer by the minute.

He lifted a set of field glasses to his eyes. Through the magnified lenses, he could just make out the few spotlights on the seawall that separated the moat and Fort Jefferson from the gulf waters surrounding Garden Key. Now that the sun had set, a soft yellow glow flashed from the little lighthouse built atop the edge of the fort’s curtain wall, illuminating the white hull of what appeared to be a deep-sea fishing vessel that was in the process of anchoring itself a few dozen yards from the little beach that ran along one side of the islet.

So damned close. And he hadn’t the first clue what he was going to say to her once they were actually face-to-face.

Long time, no see was too flippant and trite considering the hell they’d been through together and all they’d since shared. Sorry I didn’t respond to your email; the satellite dish went down while technically correct still sounded like a big, fat excuse. So that left…what? The truth? I didn’t wanna come ’cause you scare the shit outta me. You make me want things I shouldn’t want and contemplate things I shouldn’t contemplate.

Like that was going to happen.

And damnit, now those ridiculous butterflies were back. He reached for the bottle of Gatorade in the cup holder near his elbow, determined to drown the fluttery little suckers. Again. But before he could lift the drink to his lips, he got distracted by the fact that Alex was still talking.

“…so when you add all that up, it was pretty much a given I would tag along. But I have no idea why he’s here.” She hooked a thumb toward Mason. When Alex wrinkled her nose, the zinc oxide smeared across the bridge caught the running lights and glistened. She was the only person Bran knew who still used zinc oxide. “I say it’s because he couldn’t stand to be away from me,” she finished impishly.

Mason’s expression called Alex ten kinds of crazy, but he didn’t say a word.

“Oh, goodie!” Alex clapped her hands. “He’s gone back to being nonverbal. Happy, happy, joy, joy!”