Elusive Page 4

  “I’ve never seen anyone hold their own with him for that long.”

  I glanced over. Snake and the twins were leaning up against the wall watching. The punch to the cheek was deserved because I wasn’t focusing. I flew back and hit the dumpster hard. My lip busted; I wiped at the blood, grinned and then charged. I hit him in the stomach and threw him off balance; it was enough to get two shots to the face. He actually shook his head. I stunned him. It was his turn to grin.

  “Zeke could do this all day,” One twin stated.

  “Kace too.”

  “Should we call it even?” the same twin asked as he held up the wallet he had lifted and Snake had returned. “And we’ll buy the beers.”

  “Kace?” Snake called.

  I wiped the blood from my face. “I could use a beer.”

  “Zeke.” The Terminator dude said as he held out his hand.

  “Kace.”

  “I think you broke my nose, Kace.”

  “I think you broke my face, Zeke.”

  He grinned. “Sweet.”

  “I’m Tiggs and my bro Tex.”

  “Snake.”

  Tiggs opened the wallet he lifted. “Beers on Jeremy Paddington. We should be sure to lift a glass to our benefactor.”

  “Works for me.”

  Zeke pounded me on the back. “Nice fight.”

  “Yeah, my face stopped your punches really well.”

  “You’re still standing. That’s impressive.”

  I was barely standing. My legs felt like noodles and the hits to my head made me feel sick. It was fucking awesome.

  We didn’t get beers, we went to the deli and we each got our own sandwich. A friendship was formed over corned beef. After that, it wasn’t just Snake and me. The twins and Zeke became a part of our crew.

  The sail was filled and I was leaning back as the sailboat heeled. The hull cut through the water with a speed that put a smile on my face. Snake, Zeke and the twins were right at my side, cutting the water in the motorboat they sweet talked their way in to borrowing from a pair of chicks. The winds were up today and I was holding my own as we raced across the water. We returned to the marina and I moved the rudder and released the mainsheet so the sail lost the wind and gently fluttered.

  “That was awesome,” Snake said. “I know you’ve been sailing practically every day, but that was fucking awesome.”

  “You should try it. There is no feeling like it.”

  A boat flew by, too close and too fast. The wave it threw nearly overturned my boat. It caused the other boats to rock in their slips. The assholes laughed when they passed. They showboated for about twenty minutes before they headed for one of the massive yachts anchored offshore.

  “Boys need to be taught some manners,” Zeke suggested.

  “They’re not the only ones.” Over the years I had seen too many dicks like that. “It would be so easy.”

  “What would be so easy?” Snake asked.

  “Look at that yacht just anchored offshore. I’d bet money it isn’t occupied all the time. All of that just sitting there.”

  Zeke looked out at the yacht. “How would we board it?”

  “Dive deck, the lower deck at the stern, but we could pull up on the side too. In and out, so fucking easy.”

  “So why don’t we?” Snake asked.

  “It’s a bit more than picking pockets.”

  “Yeah, but you couldn’t ask for better marks. Dudes are dicks.”

  “If we did hit that yacht, we would probably want to get lost for a while.”

  “We got nothing keeping us here.” Zeke commented.

  “We won’t have jobs to come back to.”

  “Our jobs suck,” Snake admitted as he narrowed his eyes at me. “How long have you been contemplating hitting one of these yachts?”

  “Since my first day of work.”

  “You’ve already got a plan, don’t you?”

  “In theory.” My attention shifted to the twins. “Can you hack into proprietary databases?” They were serious hackers. Computer geniuses who lacked ambition according to their parents.

  I got a look that suggested they wanted more of a challenge. “Yes.”

  “We could catch a ride on one of the cruise ships after the hit.”

  “Paradise sounds good to me,” Zeke declared.

  “We’d have to watch the yacht, learn the schedules of the crew and owner, find the window.”

  “There’s five of us, we can work out a timetable,” Zeke suggested then added, “We catch a ride, we can pawn the shit wherever we land.”

  “You seriously want to do this? We could get caught. If we did, we could be looking at serious jail time.”

  “Three squares, a bed and a roof over our heads...it is fucking better than how we are living now,” Snake said. “Plus we get to take some rich douchebags for a ride. It is really a no brainer.”

  “Alright. Let’s head back to the apartment and hash it out.”

  For two weeks we watched the activity on the yacht, learned the schedule of use, the shifting of the security guards that manned the box at the end of the pier and the ferry schedule.

  And when we hit them, it was like stealing candy from a baby. We cleaned them out. Even took the toilet paper so they couldn’t wipe their pampered asses. The following day we left New York. It was no longer our home. From that day on, the sea was where we called home.

  WILLOW

  2009

  Graduation day. For the last few months prior to graduation, I had been looking for a job on a dive team, but it was harder than I was expecting. It was a competitive field and I didn’t have the experience, didn’t have enough dives under my belt. While I worked on that dream, I needed a job that would pay the bills. I grew up around a museum, so I applied for positions at local galleries and other museums in the area.

  It had just been Granddad and Mr. Tuttleman in the audience earlier when I received my diploma. I could hear them cheering from the stage. Mom and Dad were off hunting something. Their excuses had started to blur together, but they were taking me on a cruise to Mexico as my graduation gift. A whole week with them. I couldn’t wait.

  Granddad, Mr. Tuttleman and I were having a celebratory dinner. While we waited for dessert, Granddad asked, “So you reached out to Harry?”

  “I did. He will make some inquires but he said I need experience so I should get on as many dives as I can.”

  “What are your plans in the meantime?” Granddad asked.

  “I’ve applied for a few positions with local galleries and museums.”

  “I didn’t see an application come across my desk,” Granddad stated.

  “You don’t need me. Besides, I didn’t want to pull the whole nepotism thing. You have had countless candidates applying over the years and you have never hired any of them.”

  “We were waiting for you. You have been around the museum your whole life. You know it as well as Jack and me.”

  “Really?”

  “We are both getting older and you bring the younger generation’s perspective. You can bring our exhibits into the twenty-first century and train the new generation before you go off and chase your dreams.”

  I reached for his old hand and held it tightly, my eyes burning. He was my hero, my rock. I didn’t know what I would do without him. “I would like nothing more.”

  “But promise me, Willow…don’t get stuck in a hole. Don’t allow this temporary job to become your full-time job. There is nothing worse than staring down at your seventieth birthday and having regrets.”

  That was a surprise to hear and a little heartbreaking. “You have regrets?”

  “I should have been a more attentive and active grandparent. I should have insisted that your parents be more active in your life. We didn’t do right by you. You were loved, but you were lonely.”

  “I had the museum.”

  “You should have had more. Expect more, Willow. Don’t settle. Chase your dreams. Live, love, be daring and r
eckless and most importantly be happy. Promise me.”

  I wiped at my eyes and smiled. “I promise.”

  I stood at the bow of the cruise ship and watched as the dolphins jumped alongside us while chatting with my parents, but not in person, over the phone. They had canceled. I wasn’t surprised they canceled, disappointed absolutely, but not surprised. I almost backed out too because who wanted to go on vacation alone. I heard Granddad’s voice in my head, to be daring and reckless, to be happy. I wanted to see the temples and didn’t know when I would get the chance again, so here I was.

  “We are so sorry. We got another lead and it is time critical. We aren’t the only ones looking.” There was disappointment in Mom’s voice and excitement.

  I understood. It sucked, but after all the work they had put in looking, to have it stolen out from under them would be awful. “No worries. I will enjoy the temples for all of us.” I was heading to the Yucatán Peninsula where the Mayan temples were located. “This lead you are tracking down, is it for the King’s Mirror?” That treasure had become their holy grail. They had been hunting it for as long as I could remember. All the years my parents had been doing what they do, they had only uncovered a handful of treasures. Sure, what they found were hugely significant, but most of the time they found a clue that led to another clue and another clue…enough to keep them searching but never really making any progress. I suppose it was a form of addiction, like drinking or gambling, the idea that the next clue would be the one that led them to the prize. Maybe that was why I wanted to do salvage. I didn’t need to find treasure; it was uncovering the past that interested me. Finding something hidden from human eyes for decades, centuries...that was the prize for me.

  “If our research is accurate, we are close to finding the tomb for the pirate Santiago. Santiago is most notable for his apprentice, a pirate I’m sure you’ve heard of, Blackbeard,” Dad explained.

  “No way.”

  “Santiago’s tomb holds the secret to where Blackbeard’s treasure resides.”

  “Are you saying Blackbeard’s treasure is the King’s Mirror?”

  “That’s our theory.”

  “So all this time you’ve been hunting Blackbeard’s treasure.”

  I could hear Dad’s excitement over the line. “Pretty cool, right?”

  “It’s incredible.” And it was, but it hurt a bit that they had kept me in the dark about it. When I was younger I got it, but I was old enough to appreciate it, particularly being around antiquities since I could walk. “I would love to hear how this lead pans out.”

  “We will keep you posted. Have fun. Enjoy the temples.”

  “Thank you for the vacation.”

  “Congratulations, Willow. We’ll talk soon. Love you.”

  “Love you back.”

  I disconnected and looked out at the horizon just as the door opened and a gaggle of people came out. We had only been on the ship for two days, but these people made an impression because they were annoying loud mouths. The serenity of the moment was ruined so I slipped back inside and headed to my room. Maybe I would catch a nap before dinner.

  The cruise ship docked in Cancun, and what a place that was. I understood why it was such a popular spring break destination. On my first day, instead of soaking up the rays I went in search of the Mayan temples. I had to rent a car. The closest temple was in Coba, about two hours from where the ship docked. I got a chill seeing it in person. I climbed it and saw nothing but green for as far as the eye could see until it touched the blue sky in the distance. And there were cenotes, sinkholes that exposed the brightest blue water. It was incredible. The history, the stories they could tell. Walking where people had walked as early as 400 AD, it was amazing. I spent the whole day sitting amongst the ruins.

  On the way back to the ship, I walked by a fruit stand that had my mouth watering. A movement out of the corner of my eye caught my attention. It was a little girl, but there was a hunger in her gaze as she stared longingly at the fruit. She was little and thin and seeing her in a place known for decadence was a bit jarring. It was the pineapples that held her attention; the stark want on her face broke my heart.

  I bought one then held it out to her.

  Her eyes went from me to the man behind the stand. He must have encouraged her to take it because she reached out for the pineapple, then held it tightly to her chest.

  “Gracias.”

  “You’re welcome.”

  She ran off with the biggest smile on her face. I bought a few others items and the man offered to peel and slice a mango so I could eat it while I walked. I strolled down the street taking in the sights. I stopped at one shop window, an old bookstore. It reminded me of something one would see in England back in the day. I reached for the door when a man came running around the corner and barreled right into me. My bag of fruit dropped as I was slammed up against the front window of the shop. The one who hit me kept running. I may or may not have hurled a few choice words to his retreating form before I gathered up my fruit. Denim-clad legs appeared in my vision before the person hunched down to help me retrieve my now bruised fruit.

  “Are you okay?” An American. His voice was rough, his accent sounded like a New Yorker, well the dialect I had heard on television on those crime shows I loved so much. I turned my head, but all I saw was a muscled chest. My eyes moved to his face, not that I could see it through the facial hair and sunglasses.

  “I’m fine, my fruit however…”

  “That was a pretty hard hit. Are you sure you’re okay?”

  I couldn’t see his eyes, but his focus was intense. Tingles moved down my body as I became aware of him on a whole other level. The man was intimidating and yet sexy as hell. He stood and held his hand out to me. His was rough and calloused and yet he held mine in a firm but gentle way. Maybe I wasn’t okay; my head might have taken a hit because I was feeling a little funny around this man.

  He then pulled open the door to the bookstore. “You were going in here, right?”

  “Yes.”

  “Lucky for me I was too.” He followed me in. My legs went a little weak.

  The old man behind the counter looked up when we entered. “Welcome.”

  “Hello.” It smelled like parchment and leather.

  “Can I help you find something or are you just browsing?”

  “Just browsing.”

  “I’m with her.” Those words should not have caused my heart to skip a beat or for a few places on my body to throb, but they did.

  “If you have any questions, please don’t hesitate to ask.”

  “Thank you.”

  I wasn’t sure I would be able to enjoy the books because I was too aware of the man, but as I moved through the small space the man took a backseat to the history that permeated every inch of the store. Books were everywhere. The bookcases, tables and glass cases were overflowing. I pulled out books for no other reason than to hold them, to feel them.

  “You like books.”

  I looked up at him and had to swallow down a gulp. The man was too appealing for his own good. “I like history. For instance this book.” I handed him an old red leather book, the spine was cracked, the leather worn, the gold used for the lettering faded in places. “Perhaps this book was given to a little girl or boy for their birthday and they loved it, passing it down to their children and so on. Or it was an assigned reading and it was read only once and put in a box that found its way to a flea market where it was sold, but the box sat in a garage or dusty basement for years until someone cleaned it out and brought it here. In both scenarios the book touched the hands of different people during different parts of their lives. If it could talk, imagine the stories it could tell.”

  He was studying me and I suddenly felt self-conscious. “Sorry, I’m a bit of a romantic.”

  “Don’t be sorry. I don’t think I’ll look at a book the same way again.”

  One glass case held only two items—an old compass and a leather journal. There was a no
te card explaining the journal belonged to a Spanish fleet owner who had later died when his ship, Isabella, lost her battle with the sea. A chill moved down my spine. I wanted to salvage wrecks in the ocean and here was a journal written in the hand of a captain of one of those vessels.

  “And this...” I said to my companion. “He died at sea. What’s his story? How did he die? Was it a storm? Were they boarded by pirates?”

  The man at my side tensed. I couldn’t read his expression, especially not with his sunglasses on.

  “Could I see this journal?” I asked the store owner.

  “You have a good eye. This is from my family’s collection.”

  “How can you stand to part with it?”

  “I’m getting old and there is no family left. I fear all of my books will just be tossed when I’m gone. I’d rather see them go to people who appreciate what they are.” The old man had a ring of keys; he selected one and opened the case. As soon as I touched the book, I had the strangest sensation that I was meant to find it. Maybe it was the same intuition my parents felt when searching for treasure.

  “How much for this?”

  He studied me for a minute. “It’s $1500 US dollars, but I’ll give it to you for $700.” He pulled a certification from the book. “It has been verified and authenticated. Late 1700s.” I studied the notarized sheet, had seen enough at the museum to know what I was looking at. Granddad had given me money for graduation, but $700 for a book was too steep.

  “Sorry, that’s too expensive for me. It’s beautiful though.”

  I was disappointed because I really wanted that journal, but I didn’t have a job. And though Granddad said to be reckless, that wasn’t the same as irresponsible.

  I was pulled from my thoughts when the man touched my face, a delicate brush of his thumb over my cheek. “Enjoy Cancun.”

  Before I could respond, he was gone. It wasn’t just disappointment over the book that kept me company on the walk back to the ship.