Emerald Fire. Monica McCabe

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СКАЧАТЬ me guess,” he said with a flat stare, “you like spy novels, don’t you?”

      “Occasionally,” she replied, just as the plane bumped hard onto the concrete runway. With a startled gasp, she grabbed his arm and her nails dug in.

      “Ouch.” He glanced at her rigid grip and back to her face. “It’s okay, Chloe. We’re on the ground.”

      She yanked her hand back in embarrassment. “Oh, sorry.”

      “You didn’t tell me you were afraid to fly.”

      “I’m not.” She looked out the window again. “I’m afraid of landing.” And no matter how many times she flew, it never got any easier.

      “It comes with the package, you know.”

      She didn’t answer.

      “Want to tell me why?” he quietly asked.

      His sympathy surprised her. She expected the usual laughter or teasing, not understanding. It caught her off-guard enough that she gave him the truth. “My parents were killed when their plane crashed on landing. I was fifteen.”

      He stared at her in silence, a frown settling on his handsome face, and she could’ve kicked herself for the moment of weakness. He’d done nothing but tell her to go home since they met, and she’d just handed him another excuse to leave her behind.

      “It eventually fades, you know,” he finally said.

      She glanced down at her tightly clenched fists. “Does it?”

      “Some,” he said with a shrug. “I lost my mom a long time ago.”

      The plane rolled to a stop, and people began unbuckling and grabbing their overhead luggage. When the aisle cleared, they claimed their own bags and headed into Santo Domingo's Las Américas International Airport. They sailed through customs, rented a Jeep, and before long they were driving the highway east toward Boca Chica.

      The rental had seen better days. From the passenger seat, Chloe unfolded a map the clerk gave them and began navigating the way. It wasn't hard. A straight shot down a four-lane highway, and thirty minutes later they were weaving through the narrow streets of town.

      Daylight had disappeared by the time Finn found a small boutique motel, one that offered internet and a local café. He pulled in and parked by the lobby, then killed the lights.

      “Wait here,” he said. “I’ll be right back.”

      “One room,” she blurted out.

      “What?”

      “We’re sharing, but don’t get any ideas.” She’d no intention of letting him out of her sight for very long. The journal was far too important for her to lose someone with solid experience in tracking stolen vessels.

      “Ideas?” He scoffed. “I’m too damn tired to argue, much less harbor lewd intentions. Besides, you’re not my type.”

      He climbed out of the car, leaving her to wonder just what his type was. Probably blond with legs up to her neck and sweetly submissive. She was none of those things. And that was fine with her. He might be gorgeous to look at, but this was business, pure and simple. She leaned back in the bucket seat and closed her eyes. It was hard to believe she’d just met the man this morning. A few hours ago, they were strangers. Now they were about to spend the night together in a two-star hotel. Putting so much trust in someone she barely knew should plummet her comfort levels to an all-time low. The fact that it only caused minor hesitation ought to be a warning.

      The man from NorthStar will be your guide.

      That journal entry had puzzled her for months. She’d spent countless hours trying to decipher what it meant. Now here she was, being led exactly like the entry said, as though fulfilling a prophecy.

      She leaned toward the open window and breathed deep the humid night air. She was exhausted, hungry, and thinking crazy. Probably not making the best decisions either, but none of that mattered. Not with so much at stake. Years of research were on the line, and not just hers. Her mother started this journey, and Daisy Banks had been clearly on to something. She’d found a two-hundred-year-old kink in the family tree, one someone had gone great lengths to hide. That journal held the key, pointed to the proof needed to validate her mother’s theory. She refused to lose it. No matter the cost.

      Which meant tonight she had to learn a little more about her reluctant partner. If he was supposed to guide her, shouldn’t she at least try to know the man?

      Chapter 5

      They’d shared a quick meal at a nearby café and walked in silence back to the hotel room. The darkness and humidity suited Chloe’s mood as she alternated between simmering anger over Lisa’s treachery and jangled nerves from the prospect of spending the night with a gorgeous bounty hunter from NorthStar. She still knew very little about him. Dinner had been stilted, full of one-sided conversations and dead-end attempts at interrogation. He was too private, too serious, and she’d kept her answers short and vague.

      He appeared to be just what he claimed, an insurance bounty hunter. He didn’t appear to know about the journal, didn’t know he was one half of a strange two-hundred-year-old treasure hunt. Yet things were rarely as they seemed.

      Under the meager light of a lone streetlight, Chloe shot a calculating glance Finn’s way. His strong jaw clearly spoke of resolve, an essential quality if she’d any hope of recovering the journal. He said he’d been around boats all his life, and that rang true. The guy was practically a nautical wizard. He also had a no-nonsense attitude and commendable focus that probably served him well in business dealings. What she needed to figure out was why he was here at the same time as her, with the same end goal. Coincidence was the obvious answer, which meant it was the wrong answer.

      And that twisted logic could very well be the result of exhaustion.

      Finn unlocked the room and pushed his way in, holding the door open for her to follow. The quarters were small but held two double beds. She claimed the one by the door and dropped onto a flowered tropical coverlet bright enough to light the town square, but too tired to worry about the lack of sleep it’d surely cause.

      Finn settled at a small desk where he’d plugged in the laptop to charge and checked for email alerts.

      “Anything?” Chloe asked, torn between an unreasonable hope for action and a pressing need for sleep.

      He shook his head. “We may be in luck. They haven’t moved the Fire.”

      Thank God for small miracles. When Google Earth filled his computer screen and he began studying the layout of Boca Chica again, she dug for her toothbrush and the unflattering tank top and stretchy shorts she preferred to sleep in, then made for the bathroom.

      This wasn’t the first time she’d pulled a crazy stunt in a hunt for museum artifacts. She’d handled riskier situations than this. What worried her was a growing need for vengeance that escalated with every passing second. After Aunt Sarah passed away, Lisa had pounced on Uncle Jon and cashed in on his grief. But the clothes, jewels, and exotic trips weren’t enough for her. Now she’d crossed a line, gone from gold digger to black widow, and it infuriated Chloe to boiling point. If something had happened to her uncle, she intended to deliver СКАЧАТЬ