Siren's Treasure. Debbie Herbert

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      “No doubt something fishy is going on down there.” Sylvester barked out a laugh at his own pun.

      “And don’t forget the police report.”

      “All it stated was that a female went missing during the arrest and is presumed dead.”

      “She jumped off the damn boat! That’s why she went missing.”

      “From that I’m supposed to believe that your Jet grew a tail and swam hundreds of miles to some backwater Alabama bayou?”

      Perry swallowed an angry retort. Sylvester was not a man to antagonize. He forced himself to speak with respect. “I need another week or so to convince Jet to go along with us.”

      “You have until the end of this week. If she doesn’t agree by then, we’ll have to use force.”

      Perry’s mouth went dry. He wasn’t sure if Sylvester was threatening him or Jet.

      Or possibly both of them.

      “Jet will come willingly. No need for force,” he said with false confidence.

      But the line was dead.

      * * *

      The library was quiet and musty-smelling with an antiquated vibe only punctuated by the sparse number of elderly people at reading tables with magazines. All eyes turned to him. Landry gave a rusty smile that he suspected looked more like a grimace. Where was that woman? She’d entered ahead of him just minutes ago. Surprisingly, she had not stayed long at Hammonds’s rental.

      “May I help you?” a middle-aged librarian asked, tilting her head slightly downward to examine him better with her bifocals.

      “No, um...” He noticed the stairs to his right. She must have slipped up there. “I’m fine.”

      The carpeted steps muffled the noise of his entrance. Despite the room’s small size, he couldn’t see her. But she was there. Ripples of energy stirred his senses, just like in the office earlier. Landry walked to the rows of bookshelves and spotted her running a finger over the spines of several titles. Time to up the pressure on Jet today and ask more direct questions.

      “Find what you’re looking for?” His voice boomed like a firecracker in the muted space.

      She jumped and nearly dropped a load of books cradled in one arm. “What are you doing here?” Dark eyes narrowed. “Are you following me?”

      “Why would I do that?” He folded his arms and leaned against a shelf. “I mean, you’re not a criminal or anything.” Landry arched an eyebrow. “Are you?”

      “Of course not.” Red flushed her pale cheeks. “What do you want from me?”

      He wanted... Unbidden, he imagined the woman in his bed, naked skin against naked skin. Something about her stirred him deeply, in ways he didn’t understand. “Answers,” he said. “I want answers.”

      “I’ll get those stupid papers to you.”

      Landry leaned in close enough to read the book titles clutched against her like a shield—Treasure Hunting in the Gulf, Shipwrecks in the Panhandle, History of Tybee Island and— He snorted at the last title. “Little Women? Aren’t you a little old for that one?”

      Her chin lifted an inch. “Never. It’s a wonderful book about family sticking together through hard times.”

      “A fairy tale.”

      “You’re a cynical man, Mr. Fields. Got family issues, huh?”

      To put it mildly. His family was a disaster, had been since The Incident when he was five years old. Not that home had ever been exactly harmonious, but at least it had been stable up until that time. Landry pushed down the bitter taste of those childhood memories. “Doesn’t everyone have family issues?” he said with elaborate casualness. He didn’t talk about that past with anybody. No sense rehashing something he was powerless to change. All he could do now was try to prevent it from happening to anyone else.

      The tight set to her lips relaxed a fraction. “I suppose you’re right, to some degree. But in the end, family’s all we have.”

      Then I am so screwed. “I depend on myself and nobody else.”

      “Guess you’re never disappointed, then.” She lifted a shoulder. “But it sounds a bit lonely if you ask me.”

      “Hardly.” Landry stiffened. He had his share of women, had a few male acquaintances from work that he got together with for the occasional beer and football-game parties. Sure, a family would be nice, but you could live a perfectly fine life without them. He was proof of that.

      “If you say so,” she said in a tone that conveyed she didn’t believe it.

      Landry shook his head. Wait a minute. This conversation had taken a turn into the unexpected. He was supposed to shake her up, rattle her composure, not the other way around. He pointed at the book on shipwrecks. “You said you were through with the salvage business. But it looks like you’re still interested in treasure hunting.”

      “It’s a hobby. You should get your head out of your ledgers and find one.” She turned and stormed toward the end of the aisle.

      “A hobby?” He overtook her, blocking the exit. “So you didn’t meet with your ex-partner today after you left my office?”

      She drew her breath in sharply. “How did you— You are following me.”

      The flash of fear in her eyes made him want to pull her to him, to kiss her until she couldn’t even remember Perry Hammonds’s name, to protect her from her own dangerous impulses.

      What was wrong with him? She crackled with spirit and a unique beauty that was downright unnerving. He’d never felt such a strong pull to a complete stranger. Especially a woman clearly on the wrong side of the law. But just how far had she gone? And was all that truly in her past?

      Her eyes hardened. “Not that I have to explain anything to you, but my ex-partner is just that. An ex. I’m done with him.”

      He wasn’t used to hostile female suspects. Most fell over themselves to be cooperative and friendly in the hopes of being left alone. Then again, Bosarge thought he was an IRS accountant.

      Those people sure got no respect.

      “I hope that’s the truth,” he said, meaning it. Bugged the hell out of him that he couldn’t pin Miss Jet Bosarge into his usual tidy categories of good or bad. He wanted to believe she had no involvement with a ruthless criminal like Vargas. But if she knew something, a cooperative informant in the investigation would be useful before the agency closed in.

      “You don’t believe me,” she said flatly.

      Landry shrugged. “Time will tell.”

      “Look, whatever you may think of my past business dealings—”

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