History suggested the ship had sailed from the Virgin Islands toward New Orleans and the Confederate States to deliver supplies and munitions.
But many believed that hadn’t been the only thing in the hold when a hurricane had set upon the ship and sunk it somewhere between Haiti and Turks and Caicos. According to legend, there was gold. Lots of it.
What Loralei had found historically interesting was that, if the rumors of gold were true, and if the ship had reached port as planned, the Chimera’s cargo could have changed the outcome of the war.
Of course, that was pure speculation. But a secret stash of gold provided by Caribbean plantation owners, who’d had a stake in the issues the Confederacy was fighting for...
As a historian, Loralei’s interest had been piqued the moment she’d begun reading her father’s research on the Chimera. But the story itself wasn’t the only surprise. Until she’d found the documentation on the Chimera, she’d never known her father had been interested in history at all. She’d grown up thinking that her driving need to uncover the past and discover how people thought, loved, hated and lived had come out of nowhere.
Why had it taken her father’s death to learn that they actually had something in common?
That, more than anything, haunted Loralei. And it was the biggest reason she’d pushed herself to come here, despite the damn water, and finish what he’d started.
According to the records she’d found, her dad had thought he’d narrowed down the potential resting places for the Chimera.
Finding the missing ship could make the difference between a debt-laden burden and a company that would be a nice boost to her bank account and allow her to focus on her academic and research career.
The problem was she couldn’t afford to hire anyone to oversee the operation. She was already afraid she wouldn’t be able to pay the divers’ salaries. But she’d worry about that if and when it became a reality.
Brian wrapped an arm around her shoulders and propelled her forward.
Loralie almost told him thank you before she realized he wouldn’t understand her meaning and bit back the words.
Her body was wooden, but at least it was heading in the right direction again.
She’d known this man most of her life, even if she could count on her hands and feet the number of times they’d actually been face-to-face. Brian had joined her dad’s team when he was fifteen. It had been a logical jump from summers and holidays to working full time once he was out of high school.
When she was younger, Loralei could admit to being a little jealous at how much time her dad spent with this man instead of his own daughter. Now, she was just grateful to have someone who was knowledgeable about what was going on and could help her through the next few weeks.
Grasping her around the waist, Brian lifted her up the ladder and onto the deck of their ship, Emily’s Fortune.
Seeing her mom’s name painted along the side in peeling, faded red letters sent an unexpected jolt of pain through her chest.
Somehow she managed to push that down, too.
To her relief, Brian led her into the belly of the ship. She could still feel the gentle sway as waves rocked against the hull, but at least she didn’t have to look at the water anymore. If she closed her eyes maybe she could convince herself she was on a train or a plane or something.
Although, the scent of salt in the air and the sound of sea birds pretty much killed that fantasy.
“The team from Trident is already here.”
Dropping onto the bench running along the wall behind a table in the galley, Lorelei rubbed a hand over her temple. “What?”
“Trident. You know, the diving company I was telling you about over the phone.”
“The one that’s been stealing clients from us for the last eight months?”
“Yeah, that one. They’re here.”
Dropping her hand, Lorelei looked up at Brian. He was about nine years older than she was, although when he smiled he looked even older. All his time in the sea and sun had etched extra lines at the corners of his eyes and across his forehead. His skin was a deep, dark brown—a few shades darker than the natural caramel color she’d inherited from her Latin mother—and leathery.
“Why?”
Brian frowned, the line between his brows angling into a deep groove.
“I have no idea, but it makes me uneasy.”
Yeah, it didn’t exactly thrill her, either.
If Brian was telling her the truth—and she had no reason to doubt him—Trident had been a thorn in her dad’s side for months.
It couldn’t be coincidence that they’d shown up here now, could it?
No, her life didn’t work that way.
“Damn, this means we have competition, doesn’t it?”
“Probably.”
* * *
JACKSON BLENDED INTO the bustling activity of the marina and watched.
He’d never seen the woman Brian greeted with a hug and a deep smile, but he supposed it wasn’t a leap to assume she was Lancaster’s daughter.
He’d heard James had died from a heart attack three months ago. Damn shame, but not surprising. He hadn’t looked healthy the last time they’d spoken. Of course, the man had been red-faced and screaming at him.
It hadn’t taken James long to realize Trident—and Jackson specifically—was poaching his clients. The man had made it damn easy to do. But James had been livid, storming into the Trident offices to throw his weight around and threaten him with that non-compete clause he’d originally signed.
By then Jackson had discovered just how much financial trouble Lancaster was in, so he’d told the man to go ahead and hire a lawyer—he’d known James couldn’t afford one.
And he hadn’t felt a single twinge of guilt. Not when people’s lives and safety were involved.
That potential mishap with the explosives was how shit like oil rigs exploding and millions of gallons of crude spilling into pristine waters happened.
Several weeks later their front door had been smashed in and their offices ransacked. All the expensive dive equipment and computers had been left untouched, nothing of value missing.
It had taken Asher, Knox, Kennedy and himself several days to deal with the mess. There was no way to prove the burglars had paid an inordinate amount of attention to his research on the Chimera, or that the person behind the theft was James Lancaster, but his gut had told him that’s what had happened.
He’d had plenty of experience trusting his gut. On dangerous missions those hunches often had been the difference between life and death.
And now his gut was telling him Lancaster Diving’s presence in Turks and Caicos wasn’t a coincidence. Loralei Lancaster disappeared below deck, Brian right behind her, his hand hovering at the small of her back without actually touching. The diving community was small and he’d made it his business to know everything he could about Lancaster Diving...including the woman who’d inherited the mess James had left behind.
Jackson almost felt sorry for her. But not enough to stop his campaign to put them out of business. Which was secondary to keeping them away from the Chimera. He’d been researching the shipwreck for the past ten years. There was no way he’d let the Lancaster team find her first. Especially using his own damn work.
There was no