Castillo's Bride. Anne Duquette Marie

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СКАЧАТЬ pretty clean.” Aurora tossed him the hose, and Jordan neatly coiled it as she stowed the scrubbing broom.

      “Thanks for offering to cook—nice trait in a man,” she teased. “But why don’t we do that another day? There’s a little fish-and-chip place across the harbor. Let’s take the dinghy and keep the galley clean. We can review those contracts over dinner.”

      JORDAN FINISHED rereading the papers for the second time just as the sun’s corona touched the sharp, flat line where sky meets sea.

      “Have a pen?” he asked, enjoying the sunset.

      “I do.” She passed him one from her fanny pack, then shoved aside the wrappers from their fish and chips, his beer bottle, and another one of her citrus drinks—tangerine, this time—so he had more room.

      Jordan signed both copies, waited as she signed hers, and slid both sets back toward her. He carefully slipped both contracts back into their protective envelope.

      “Where’s my galleon?” he immediately asked.

      Aurora pointedly lifted one eyebrow. “Your galleon?”

      “Our galleon,” he corrected. “Where is it?”

      “We’ll be working out of San Diego Harbor.”

      “I want the coordinates of the San Rafael—and don’t tell me you haven’t memorized them.”

      “I have, and I’ll give them to you as soon as these papers are filed.”

      Jordan’s lips set in a thin line of disappointment and frustration. Aurora reached for his hand. Despite the rough calluses on her palm and fingertips, her touch felt surprisingly soft.

      “Sorry to do this,” she said kindly, “but I have my sister to think about. I know you’ve waited a long time. Please try to be patient just a little longer.”

      Jordan continued to let her hold his hand. A moment later, she removed her fingers from his. “Are there any other questions I could answer for you?” Aurora asked.

      “I’m concerned about the security of the location—for both our sakes. Do you have the coordinates written down anywhere? Are they stored in your GPS?”

      “No and no.”.

      “Okay.” Jordan nodded with satisfaction. Global Positioning Systems were satellite-based navigational aids. Once activated, they tracked three coordinates—latitude, longitude and altitude, both above and below sea level—and made navigation simple for anyone who understood the numbers.

      “Who else has them? Your dive crew?”

      “Not even them. I went out alone, and I dived alone.”

      Jordan blinked. “Alone? That’s dangerous.”

      “So is being locked away in a Mexican jail.”

      “But what if…” Something happened to you? Like something nearly happened to me? The thought of her being beaten and thrown off a pier turned his normally strong stomach. He shook his head, surprising himself by being unable to go on.

      “I get amnesia? Abducted by aliens? Eaten by piranhas?”

      “I didn’t say that. However, you should have at least one safety in place. Your friend Donna, perhaps, if you don’t trust me. I wish you would,” he added in a low voice, surprised a second time by the urgency of his words.

      “No. Until these papers are filed, no one gets the location. Not even you. Not even Donna. My family comes first—whether they believe it or not.”

      Whether they believe it or not? Strange thing to say…It’d been years since she’d run away. Apparently the family hadn’t recovered from her youthful indiscretion. That kind of grudge was something he had no patience with.

      But before he could follow up on her statement, she rose. Jordan had no choice but to follow her back to the dinghy, a trimly painted blue-and-white with black letters proclaiming the name, the Tempest Tantrum. Aurora climbed in first, taking her position at the back of the small trolling motor.

      “Then we’ll file tomorrow,” Jordan said. “You give me the coordinates, and weather permitting, we dive the wreck.”

      “We’ll need at least two other people,” she said as he carefully climbed in. Small boats rocked easily, especially when carrying two people with disparate weights. Large crafts had built-in air pockets or plastic buoys within. Smaller craft sank like stones when overturned. “We could plan on a preliminary dive without a full crew. If it works out, we may be able to keep the scale of our operation small.”

      “What about Donna?”

      “She’s always game. I’d need a fourth, as well,” she said. “Two topside, plus two diving minimum—that’s you and me—for where we’re heading.”

      “Who else do you have in mind?”

      “There’s a young man in Mexico, Roberto Ortega,” she said in a thoughtful voice. “But I’d have to go to the border to pick him up. I don’t think I’ll have time. Cast off, please.” Aurora started the electric motor with a twist of the handle.

      Jordan removed the dinghy’s single line from the docking cleat. “He couldn’t meet us here?”

      “No, he doesn’t have transportation. Since we’ll be launching from San Diego Harbor, you’ll have to meet Roberto another time. Neil Harris has his own private watercraft, and his cruise ship’s in port, so he’s free to help us. I’ve already sounded him out and he’s agreeable. I wouldn’t usually ask him but since he already knows you, and you’re so eager to get out there…”

      “That’s our four, then. Period. I’d prefer to keep the dive site secret for as long as possible.”

      “Well, using Neil’s boat instead of mine will make it harder for anyone to follow—if we’re being followed. Besides, Neil can be trusted.”

      “Fine, that sounds reasonable,” he said a bit grudgingly. “But keep in mind that I have no intention of being the junior partner on this venture. We’re equal partners and I expect to be involved in all decisions before you discuss them with other people.” At her curt nod, he paused, then continued quietly. “I want you to understand something, Ms. Collins.”

      Aurora geared the little motor into idle. Silence washed over their patch of water as the orange of the setting sun slid across its surface. In no danger of traffic this late at night, the dinghy rocked slowly with the harbor surge.

      “You told me about your family. Now let me tell you about mine. Or rather, what’s left of it.” His words were terse, low, emotionless. “Thanks to a hurricane ten years ago, I’m the only father left for nine nieces, five nephews and their mothers. My two brothers are dead. My father and grandfather are dead. My sisters’ husbands are dead. My older cousins and nephews are dead—all drowned. You’re looking at the sole male support of what was once a thriving family and a thriving family business. If I go down, they go down with me. At present, half of the San Rafael is all I have left to offer. If anything happens to me before we salvage it, they have nothing. So I repeat—when it comes to future decisions about this venture, you’ll СКАЧАТЬ