Roxanne St. Claire - Make Her Pay

He fought a smile. “You’d like the one I’m about to make, trust me.”

“You’ll like the one I’m about to make,” she countered, sliding over him to pull his whole body into hers. “It doesn’t matter.”

He waited for her to continue. “That’s it?”

“What else is there? The past is past? You’re clearly doing everything to change your life?” She stroked his cheek gently. “Your colors are true, Con. You risked your life to save my sister. You couldn’t have shown me what you’re made of better than that.”

“Funny thing. I was thinking the same thing about you.”

She smiled. “We’re a good pair.”

“We are.”

“And you…” She just had to know this. “You aren’t planning to take my scepter and diamond and give it to Paxton.”

“No.”

There was just enough hesitation to give her a squeeze of doubt. “Con? Are you lying?”

“No, I’m not. That was my plan, but not now-I swear it. The truth will come out. I promise.”

She saw nothing but honesty in his eyes. “Then you’re going to prove it.”

“How?”

“I’ll tell you who has it. I’m going to trust you with that information, and you’re not going to do anything with it.”

“All right.”

“I gave it to Sam Gorman.”

“And he’ll keep it safe?”

“Of course. He certainly won’t give it to Paxton. He’s on my-our side.”

“I give you my word I won’t touch it.” He kissed her softly.

She smiled. “We are a good pair. Now, what were you going to tell me?”

“You know that box I brought in?”

She rose up a little to see it on the floor. “Yeah. What is it?”

“The original manifest of El Falcone . Letters between Bettencourt and Captain Dare. Proof that your great-times-many-grandfather was legit. Everything you need to clear his name when you take your scepter and diamond on its exhibit tour.”

For a few seconds, she couldn’t even process what he was saying. “Letters? Proof?”

“And if the other one is ever found, then you have a claim to it, wherever it is.”

She pushed herself up, the words still barely sinking in. “You have proof and you didn’t tell me when you walked in?”

He smiled. “I knew that once you opened that box, you’d forget all about me.”

She nearly shoved him off her, rolling out of the little bed and landing on her feet, pouncing on the box. She kneeled in front of it, staring, then turned to Con.

He sat on the bed, as naked as she, grinning. “Go ahead. Open it.”

She did, almost afraid to touch the parchment papers inside. She lifted the first one, the words swimming as if they were underwater, the Spanish slowly making sense.

El completos manfiestan El Falcone, Aramis Dare, el capitán. Sin registrada.

She blinked, sending a tear down her cheek, and she automatically moved the paper so it wouldn’t get wet.

“I told you you’d forget about me when you saw it.”

She looked up at him, another tear escaping. “No, Con. Nothing in the world could ever make me forget about you. I believe in you. And I know you’d never do anything to break that trust.”

“No.” Con’s smiled wavered, then disappeared. “I wouldn’t.”

“I have to tell Bree. I have to show this to her.”

“Go ahead,” he said. “Take it. I need to hit the shower anyway.”

As she stood, her gaze fell on the open bag near the foot of the bed, her Gold Digger baseball cap tucked into the side pocket. Scooping it up, she bounded over to the bed.

“Here you go, sweetheart.” She placed it on his head, tugging on the bill. “For ‘first hands’ on the best recovery of the trip so far.”

He just smiled. “Thanks.”

FOR A LONG time after Lizzie left, Con sat on the bed folding the cap in his hands.

How did this get so freaking complicated?

Was it when he agreed to accept Lucy’s challenge and get that scepter from Lizzie and give it to Judd Paxton? Or just a few hours ago, when he found the second one, and cooked up a scheme that suited his needs but no one else’s?

Life was easier before he grew a conscience. Life was easier before Lizzie.

Empty, quiet, lonely, boring, and bland-but easier.

The bottom line was that as long as he gave either scepter to Judd Paxton, he was lying to her. And he cared too much for her to do that anymore.

Lucy wasn’t going to like it, but-

The phone vibrated in his hand, and he swore when he read the ID. He wanted to call her first, damn it.

“Hey, Luce. I was just about to call you.”

“It’s getting late and Avery has compiled a lot of information for you. I spoke with my contact at the Azorean police, and you’ll be cleared to leave there this afternoon.”

“Fine, we can do that, but I have to tell you something. There’s been a change-”

“Yes, there has, because I’m not finished.”

Damn, the woman liked control.

“Solange Bettencourt’s husband, Jaeger, is the man Judd Paxton has lined up to buy the scepters and diamonds should they be recovered from El Falcone .”

“Really.”

“In fact, he financed this dive, because he is the person who first found the map that pinpointed the location. Clearly there is a connection between his wife’s awareness of the recovery effort and her death.”

“There’s a connection, all right. She had the other scepter.”

“Excuse me?”

“I found it, hidden in her windmill.” It wasn’t how he’d wanted to tell Lucy, but all his plans seemed to implode the minute Lizzie forgave him his past.

“You’re serious?” Lucy said when he didn’t offer any more details. “You found it there?”

“Along with original documentation that supports Lizzie’s theory that Bettencourt tried to rob Aramis Dare, and in the process the scepters got separated.”

“Are you sure it’s authentic?”

“We can have it checked, but it looks real. And it explains a lot.”

“Like what?” Lucy asked.

“My guess is Jaeger Bettencourt didn’t know that one of his treasures had never made it to that ship, and that his ancestor had hidden it. Then, his estranged wife found it. And I don’t think she killed herself. Unless the police are complete morons, they are going to figure that out when they examine the body. I don’t know how long she was dead when we found her, but there was no one around, and no one passed us on the road down. I don’t know who could have been up there-”

“I do. The phone calls she made to the U.S. were to someone on El Falcone .”

“Who?”

“Sam Gorman.”

Sam… who had the other scepter . “How does he know Solange?”

“It’s not clear he did. But Charlotte Gorman did some conservator work for the Bettencourts’ art collection, and they may have stayed in touch. But there’s another connection that troubles me even more.”

“What’s that?”

“Recently, the Gormans donated a considerable amount of money to sponsor a diving expedition off the coast of Mexico.”

“Is that unusual?” Con asked.

“The expedition was run by Dylan Houser, the man who was with Malcolm Dare on his last fatal dive. So, what’s unusual is that the Gormans and Houser have at least a monetary connection. And the Bullet Catcher research database showed at least one other identity for Houser: a Douglas Haberstroh, who checks out as a freelance diver, mostly out of the country, where he allegedly is now. None of this proves anything, of course, but it all makes me uncomfortable-especially since Sam and Charlotte Gorman are on Corvo Island right now.”