Roxanne St. Claire - Make Her Pay

She had to find out. “Thank you, Maria. This, on top of the information you provided about my own ancestors, is so valuable.”

“Valuable indeed.” The other woman raised her eyebrows and waited.

“Oh, of course.” Bree reached into her bag and handed Maria the envelope, swallowing guilt. Lizzie would have paid that much, too. And Dad would have paid ten times the amount for the identity of the mysterious BC.

Brianna stood, taking the map. “This property, you said it’s a farm?”

“Probably. There’s a main house and a windmill. Habitable, but very rural.”

“How do you get there?”

“A flight from Lisbon to Terceira, then I’m afraid just a very small plane can land on Corvo, which has a treacherous little airport.” She smiled. “It’s very windy on the archipelago of the Azores. Not for a faint flyer.”

“Good thing I’m not.” Brianna grinned back, loving the possibility of the adventure. “And you’re sure that Bettencourts live there now?”

Maria tucked her envelope in her bag and stood. “The deed is in the name of an American named Jaeger Bettencourt, so it is hard to say who might actually be living there. It wouldn’t be unusual for a local family to rent it and run the farm for an American, or an Azorean family could live there. It could be abandoned, for all I know.”

With luck, there would be someone there. Maybe even a Bettencourt. And hopefully, they didn’t care about some ancient folklore and lost artifacts.

Brianna was about to find out.

A few minutes before dawn, Lizzie slipped out of her bunk and tiptoed up to the main deck to coil up the air hose and hide the evidence of what they’d done. But someone had already put the deck back together.

Had Con done this? After they’d spent about an hour with Charlotte and Sam, certain his pains were heart-burn brought on by his weakness for Brady’s hot salsa, and not a heart attack, Lizzie had gone to bed. But not to sleep. And not with Con, which was a shame.

She walked over to the air compressor, which had been replaced in its normal position. Bending over, she put her finger on the valve to check-

“They’re back on.”

She spun around to see Con at the top of the stairs, a black T-shirt making him look even bigger and badder. “Did you do this?”

He shook his head. “I came up here about five minutes ago, and the place was neat as a pin. I was just checking the lab, which is still locked. The engineer and his assistant are awake, and Brady and Flo are cooking. The rest of the crew is still down.”

“Flo might have cleaned this up, although that-” she indicated the neatly coiled air hose-“has Divemaster Dave’s signature all over it.”

“Would the cook’s wife have noticed the air intakes were out and replaced them?” His look was as skeptical as his tone.

“Well, she’s responsible for housekeeping, but that doesn’t usually include the deck.” She blew out a troubled breath. “I need coffee, stat.”

In the main salon, Lizzie mentally flipped through every person on the boat who could have come up here and covered their tracks. The same way she’d flipped through everyone who might have tried to kill one of them last night.

And why ?

Could someone know she had the diamond? The need to get it off the boat burned hotter than ever.

“I still think Dave came up here earlier and cleaned up,” she said softly to Con as they walked toward the galley buffet table. “He’s a hound about recoiling the air hoses.”

“And checking the air intake?”

“Of course. That’s his job. Maybe-”

She stopped as Brady came around the buffet with a steaming pot of coffee.

“Mornin’, Lizzie. Con.”

“Hi, Brady,” she said. “Are we your first customers this morning?” Maybe the cook could give them some insight.

“So far.” He set the pot on the warming pad and flipped two mugs down from the shelf for them. “You’re not diving this morning, Lizzie, so how ’bout I make you some Sunday morning pancakes?”

“You’re too good to me, Brady.”

“I’ll take some, too.” Flynn ambled in. “Fast. I’m going to get that medallion into the Paxton lab, now that it mysteriously showed back up in our lab.” He flicked his gaze at Con, but Lizzie stepped forward to seize the opportunity.

“I’ll go with you to the mainland, Flynn.” He scowled, and she continued, “I really need to get down to see my sister.”

“To see your sister?” Flynn half-laughed. “In the middle of a dive? I don’t think so, Lizzie. You’re not paid for vacation days.”

“Flynn, please, she’s… she’s had a hard time recently and I just want to pop in and see her for a few minutes.”

It wasn’t ideal; she’d planned to figure out a way to get there during the week when the bank was open and she could get the scepter in the family safe-deposit box. But this opportunity might not arise again soon, and she had to get that thing off the boat. Her sister could be responsible for it overnight, and secure it in the box tomorrow morning.

“You’re going through the Sebastian Inlet, right?”

He nodded. “There’s no time to get up to the port and back.”

“Vero’s just twenty minutes away from the inlet. I’ll be back at the boat before you’re back from the lab. I promise.”

He shook his head. “I don’t know, Lizzie. That’s a rough ride through the inlet-even I wouldn’t attempt it after sundown. If you get stuck in Vero, I can’t wait for you, and God knows how long it could be till you get back to this boat. I don’t think so.”

She hated having to beg this son of a bitch for anything. “Flynn, really, she lives so close-”

“I’ll go with you,” Con said.

Flynn looked up from his coffee, surprised. “That won’t assure she’ll be any faster.”

“I’ll keep her on schedule, but more important, I can help you navigate the inlet. I know it well, even in the dark. You should have a second pair of hands on board going through that place, anyway.”

Lizzie swallowed her arguments. What was she, no hands? She didn’t really want him to come, but if it got Flynn to agree to take her, then she’d accept it.

Flynn eyed them both, obviously enjoying the little power trip of granting permission to his minions. “You better have a way to get to Vero Beach, Lizzie, because I’m not driving you down there. I have things to do.”

“I’ve got that covered,” Con said.

“Great,” she replied. Maybe . She got what she wanted, but would Con call every shot? “Then I’ll get my stuff together and pass on breakfast, Brady. I’ll meet you up here in twenty minutes or so.”

Con would bring the diamond, so she had to get the scepter wrapped and hidden in a bag. In her room, she dragged her canvas zippered tote, then pulled out the mattress from the bunk where she’d hidden the scepter.

And stared at the empty spot, her heart lodging in her throat. “Oh my God.”

Con. It had to have been Con. Right? If not…

She didn’t even want to think about it. Grabbing a handbag, she marched back up to the salon where Flynn and Con were talking and eating.

“Change your mind on the pancakes?” Con asked, moving over to make room for her.

She noticed his khaki-colored, beat-up backpack on the floor… big enough to carry what she knew in her gut he had.

She gave him a look as she slid into the booth next to him, but he just replied with a surreptitious squeeze of her leg.

Lizzie was still unhappy about the turn of events when the three of them climbed aboard Flynn’s boat. She’d wanted to undertake this job on her own, without any prying eyes and opinions on how it should be done. And, damn it, he was swinging that bag like it contained his dirty underwear, not a priceless artifact.