Clive Cussler: Wrath of Poseidon

After watching it a few moments, she continued her descent, catching up to Sam. Together, they swam to the bottom of the kelp bed, where a reddish-orange spiny-headed scorpionfish lurked. Sam reached past it, picking up an empty snail shell rolling along the seafloor, handing it to Remi. She dropped it into her dive bag, thinking it would make a nice reminder of her first successful dive since being certified. Before she knew it, Sam was signaling that it was time to surface.

“That was incredible!” she said, pulling her regulator from her mouth. “I could do this forever.”

Sam, treading water next to her, slid his face mask up. He reached out, drawing her close, then kissed her on the lips. “I could do that forever . . .”

They slipped down into the water, and he kissed her again, this time holding her tight. When they surfaced a few seconds later, she nodded. “Me too.”

They left Catalina, Remi with wreck certificate in hand and two friends richer.

CHAPTER FIVE

Remi eyed the stacks of carefully folded clothes on her bed, ready to be packed for her trip to Greece, then looked at the full suitcase for her weekend with Sam. “I think I have everything.”

Her roommate, Olivia Brady, shook her head. “What’s gotten into you?”

“I may be falling in love.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? The guy’s a stocker in a grocery store.”

“For now.”

“Right. Like we haven’t heard that story before.”

“He’s an engineer.”

“And you know this how?”

“He told me.”

“I can’t find anything about him on the internet. And you know I’m good at that.”

Remi looked up from her suitcase. “Why would he lie?”

“Why do you think guys lie about that stuff? How naive can you be?”

“He’s not like that—”

“Says the girl who’s never been out on her own before. College doesn’t count. He picked you up in a bar, for heaven’s sake. You can’t possibly think it’s okay to go away with him.”

“You sound like my mother.”

“For good reason.”

Remi zipped up her suitcase, then took a second look in her closet to see if she’d missed anything. “I wonder if I should pack a coat.”

“You know nothing about this guy.”

“I’ve dated him for almost two weeks. Every day. If he was going to do something shady, he’d have done it by now.”

“Are you even listening to yourself? You can’t just run off for the weekend with someone you don’t know.”

“I have before.”

“I wasn’t here then, but now I am, and I need to put a little sense back into you. You have a plan. This,” she said, nodding at Remi’s suitcase, “does not fit with this.” She swept her hand toward a corkboard hanging on Remi’s bedroom wall. There were articles of the Fourni archipelago shipwrecks pinned to it, notes from research, and timelines she’d mapped out on how she planned to proceed with that venture. Another board showed the Spanish galleon notes.

Remi had always known from an early age what it was she wanted to do. Working as a translator was a very small step in her overarching goal of one day heading up a team to explore some of the areas she was researching. From there she planned to write a book, then produce a documentary. “You worry too much.”

“Do I? What, exactly, do you know about him?”

“Besides that he saved a man’s life at risk of his own?”

“Emphasis on the risk. He recklessly jumped into the water without waiting for help.”

“He loves the ocean. He’s nice. And he’s a dreamer.”

“Which is code for poor.”

“So . . . ?”

“Money? That stuff we need to keep us in the lifestyles we’re accustomed to? The clothes in your luggage are worth more than his car.”

“There’s nothing wrong with being poor.”

“Until you become poor. And you might if you continue down this road. At the very least, take your car. That way if you end up on the bottom of the ocean, his prints will be all over it.”

Remi dragged her full-to-the-hilt suitcase off the bed and rolled it into the front room, leaving it next to her dive gear bag. “I have a good sense for people.”

“Who are you and what have you done with my roommate?”

“It’s just a weekend.”

“This from the girl who’s plotted out her entire life like detectives plot out crime scenes for court. Need I remind you that you’re leaving for Greece on Monday?”

“And I’ll be back Sunday.”

The doorbell rang.

“Do not do this, Remi.”

“It’s a date. Nothing permanent.”

Remi walked to the door and opened it.

Sam stood there, looking as carefree and handsome as he had the night before when they’d sat at the beachside grill before he left for work. A moment of uncertainty hovered at the back of her consciousness, but it quickly evaporated when he smiled at her. “Good morning,” he said.

“Good morning.”

He looked past her to see her roommate standing in the kitchen. This being the first time Sam had actually been to their apartment when Olivia was home, the two had never really met. “Sam Fargo,” he said, holding out his hand.

Olivia lifted an empty glass, an innocent smile on her face. “Would you like some water before you go?”

Remi crossed her arms. “Seriously?”

Sam glanced at Olivia, then Remi. “Do I sense a little tension here?”

“She wants to get your prints.”

He laughed, then walked over, taking the glass from Olivia, holding it firmly, then setting it on the counter. “I assure you, I’m harmless.”

“Which,” Olivia said, “is what all the serial killers probably say.”

He picked up Remi’s suitcase and gear bag. “Ready?”

She nodded, then turned to her roommate. “Have fun while I’m gone.”

“I’ll be doing an internet search the moment you leave.” Olivia stood in the doorway, watching as they started down the stairs toward the parking lot.

Sam opened the tailgate of his Jeep. Remi glanced into the cab, then into the cargo area. “A backpack?”

“I tend to be a light packer,” he said, moving everything aside to make room for her full-size suitcase. “I noticed you aren’t.”

“I like to be prepared for every eventuality.”

“Nothing wrong with being prepared.” As he closed the tailgate, his eyes strayed up to the balcony, where her roommate stood, holding her camera out, very obviously taking a photograph of his car. He waved to Olivia, then opened the door for Remi.

“Sorry,” Remi said. “She’s a bit overprotective.”

“Good friends worry.” He closed the door once she was seated, then walked around to the driver’s side, getting in behind the wheel. “I have to admit, I thought I might get a pass on being a serial killer since I’m a friend of Blake. They used to date, didn’t they?”

“I . . . sort of didn’t mention his name.”

“Yikes. That bad?”

“Let’s just say she’s relegated him to the category of someone she used to know.”

“Used to know? That’s sort of harsh.” He turned the key and looked over at her. “Bad breakup?”

“She doesn’t talk about it. The only thing she’ll say is that everything with him was about dollar signs. In her opinion, he was . . . a bit shallow.”

“A bit?” He laughed. “He grew up dirt poor, worked hard to get where he is, and wants everyone to know it. Still, he’s got a heart of gold. He’d write you a check for the balance in his bank account if he thought it would help. Being humble? Not his strong suit. Being kind is.”

“What’s your strong suit?”

“Good question. I suppose if you asked Blake, he’d tell you my strong suit is also my greatest weakness. Jumping in headfirst and shooting from the hip.” He backed from the space, then pulled out toward the street. “What about you?”