Roxanne St. Claire - Make Her Pay

“What are you talking about?”

“You found this? Here in the mill? It is…” She lifted it as though making an offering to the gods.

“Mine.” Solange took it from her.

“Oh, no, ma’am. This belongs to Portugal!” She let it go, but only because she needed to put a hand on Solange to coax her back inside. “There are stories, oh, madame, wait until I tell you what you’ve found. Here! On your farm! You will be famous!” She beamed in the moonlight. “You will be the most famous person in all of Portugal. This will go into museums. It will travel the world!”

But that wasn’t what Solange wanted.

“Come,” Ana said, affection and excitement making her eyes dance. “Come back down, Senhora . You have been doing so well for months. You don’t need to do this.”

As Ana turned, urging her inside, Solange gripped the wrapped scepter, nudging the huge diamond handle behind Ana. “No-I don’t.”

The push was hard, furious, and full of strength Solange didn’t know she had. Ana gasped, reached out for balance, and when she did, Solange slammed the giant diamond into the young woman’s back with enough force to topple her.

For a split second Ana seemed to hang in the air, just long enough to look right in Solange’s eyes and realize what was happening to her. Then she plunged forward and the giant windmill sweep whooshed by with enough force to blow her off the side, her blouse billowing as she fell into the air, her scream lost in the wind as she tumbled down, down, down to her death.

The sound was lost in the crashing waves and the constant, aching groan of the windmill gears.

Solange cradled the scepter. All that power.

THE TAP ON the lab door surprised Con, and so did the stab of disappointment that it wasn’t Lizzie. Was she still out with Paxton?

Alita lifted the corner of a napkin covering a plate, offering it to him along with a slow, sweet smile. “It would be a crime for you to miss Brady’s Bacardi Double Chocolate cake just because you’re babysitting the treasure.”

“That was thoughtful of you.” He took the plate and she raised a brow, obviously waiting for an invitation. He’d had long chats with Kenny and Walt Brubaker today but only a few minutes with Dave the divemaster in his effort to infiltrate the crew. Guess it was time for Diver Barbie. “Have you had any? I’ll share.”

Dimples deepened. “I hoped you’d ask, since I’m sacrificing the last piece for you. I thought Walt would stab me with his fork when I reached for it.”

Con stepped to the side to let her in, his gaze sliding over the skin-tight jeans and T-shirt. “I’m getting the impression Brady is the most beloved crewmember on the boat.”

“He is a masterful chef,” she said, breezing in and giving the lab a visual sweep. “And he only bakes dessert when we make a great recovery, as motivation.” She turned and trained deep blue eyes on him, the dimples still at work, a lock of dark hair sliding over her cheeks. “Where is it?”

That didn’t take long. “Locked up.”

She pointed to the cake. “That should buy me a look, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled out a stool from the center table and offered it to her, taking the one next to it. “Haven’t tasted it yet.”

She slowly ran one finger over the icing, gathering a clump on the tip, then lifted it to his mouth with a look of pure sex. “Then have some.”

He took the lick she offered and managed not to make a face. He didn’t like sweets, and he didn’t like pushy women. But he’d play her game, because his job wasn’t quite done here.

“Very good.”

She smiled as if he’d paid her the compliment, and not the cake. “So, I hear you were a Navy SEAL.”

He’d told Kenny, who’d been in the Navy. “Word travels fast.”

“On a boat with a dozen people in each other’s face 24/7? You bet it does. How long have you been diving?”

“A while. How about you?”

“A few years.”

He took a small bite of cake, avoiding the frosting. “What’s your background?” He knew, of course. Dropped out of the University of Miami from a marine biology program, married a boat captain and started diving, divorced him a year later, kept diving.

“I’m a marine biologist.”

And a liar. “Who dives for treasure.”

“Hey, someone around here has to understand the environment. I know, I don’t look like a marine biologist. But you do look like a Navy SEAL.”

“I wasn’t one for very long,” he said, never comfortable with the idea that people thought he had some long and illustrious career as a SEAL. “How’d you get into diving?”

“The way all women get into a lifestyle change.”

“A guy?”

She shrugged. “Of course. But he’s gone.”

“And you’re still diving.”

“It’s an addiction, as you know.” She tapped the tabletop with her nail. “So let me see it. It’s not against the rules for me to look at it.”

He pushed off the stool to unlock the cabinet. “Lot of rules on this boat, aren’t there?”

“When Judd Paxton’s signing the paychecks, we follow the rules.” She came up next to him, letting her body brush his, her smile flirtatious. “Most of them, anyway.”

He opened the steel-encased door and took out the medallion that had spent the afternoon soaking in a vinegar solution and under the ministrations of Charlotte Gorman’s well-trained hands. The coral was gone from the gold, which gleamed, and the jewels were almost perfect.

“Charlotte thinks it needs some more cleaning, but…” He angled it for her to see. “It is a beauty.”

She nodded, her eyes widening appreciatively. “And worth a ton.”

“Have you seen anything like it before?” he asked.

“Nope.” She ran her finger over the crucifix. “Makes you wonder just what we’re searching for here.”

“Doesn’t it, though? What do you think?”

She shrugged, still studying the artifact. “We’re too far out for the 1715 or 1733 fleets, so something independent, probably. Something that didn’t go down in a hurricane, or it would be closer to shore.”

“Any ideas?” he asked, holding her gaze, knowing the eye contact might open her up to talk.

“Not a one. I’m just here for the money.”

He inched away. “I thought it was an addiction.”

“I’m addicted to money.” She laughed, leaning into the space he’d left between them. “Is that something you find unattractive?”

“Not passing opinion on it.” He returned the medallion to the cloth bedding Charlotte had made for it and reached to close the cabinet door, but Alita put her hand in his arm, stopping him.

“You need to see it again?” he asked.

“I just…” She leaned over and let her shoulder press into his arm. “I kind of want a picture of it.”

Another one with pictures? “No can do, sweetheart. That would be against Mr. Paxton’s rules.”

“Screw Mr. Paxton.”

“I suppose you could try that and see if he lets you take pictures.”

She put a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Is that your price?”

Con spun at the sound of a shuffled foot and a tap that pushed open the entry that he’d left ajar.

Lizzie stood there, a knowing smile on her face. “That didn’t take long.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, a sensation kicking him that was exactly the opposite of what he’d felt five minutes ago when Alita arrived.

“As you know so well,” he said, closing and locking the cabinet door, “things aren’t always what they seem.”

“Well, I seem to be intruding, so see ya later.” She nodded at Alita and turned to leave, but he reached her in two steps, getting hold of her elbow as she stepped into the hall.