Twelfth Sun

by Mae Clair

  She slipped a finger beneath the flap of the envelope and tore it open. A piece of parchment paper was tucked inside, as black in color as the bird in the box. Silver script flowed elegantly across the page. Reagan read the short inscription aloud:

  Flight does not change the past, but forgiveness alters the present.

  Irritated by the cryptic message, she frowned. “What’s this? Another clue?”

  “No.” Elijah rubbed his forehead, clearly fighting the onslaught of a headache. “A message. To me.”

  “From whom?”

  “I don’t know. Brody maybe for what he’s done during the treasure hunt by conspiring with Pellar. It was Pellar who left the box and the envelope with Alice Martin.”

  “You think Pellar and Brody are in this together?”

  Elijah dropped into his seat. “Something isn’t right with Brody. Based on everything we’ve seen and heard, I don’t know what other assumption to make.”

  “What about the person you thought you saw on the beach and the one I talked to in the planetarium?” Reagan persisted. “And there was someone in the hallway the night I overheard Pellar and Brody talking. Do you think that person could be Sothern?”

  “Maybe. But why would he be skulking around in the shadows?” Elijah looked tired. “There’s only a single clue left. Whatever is going on, by tomorrow night we’ll either have Rook’s journal or we’ll know what Brody’s been up to.”

  “What about Monica and Tarvick?”

  He snorted. “Come on, Reagan. You don’t seriously consider them competition? They might have held on this long, but we’ll beat them to the finish line.”

  * * * *

  One, at least, they were bound to beat for certain. When the group assembled that night in the circular dining room for dinner, Monica Holt despondently admitted she’d been unable to solve her clue. Giddy with the prospect of yet someone else being eliminated from the search, Tarvick smacked his hands together and looked across the room to where Elijah stood with Reagan.

  “Well, Cross. It looks like it’s you and me.” He raised a glass of wine in a mock toast. “No hard feelings, but I plan on taking Rook’s journal.”

  * * * *

  “Cocky SOB, isn’t he?”

  Seconds after Tarvick’s announcement, Brody strolled over to join Reagan where she stood with Elijah.

  Her lover frowned at the blond-haired man, still clearly distrustful. She couldn’t blame him. The whole treasure hunt reeked of conspiracy. She wanted to tell Brody where he could stick his observation, to come clean and quit playing head games. But, as much as she wanted to unleash on him, a part of her waffled indecisively. Brody’s affection for Elijah at the start of the hunt had been genuine, of that she was positive. What would make him trash three years of friendship?

  Money? Recognition? Would he really sell out Elijah for a cash reward or publicity he seemed to care nothing about? From what he’d told her, St. Croix paid him well, allowing him to live a lavish lifestyle. What would he gain that he didn’t already have?

  “Not everyone is who they seem,” she said before she could stop herself.

  Elijah sent her a sharp glance from the corner of his eye. She saw his mouth tighten in a flat smile as if he appreciated the subtlety of her challenge to Brody.

  “Maybe.” Brody sipped at a scotch and water, letting the remark soar over his head. Across the room, Tarvick extended what she was sure were false condolences to Monica. Dinner had yet to be served, allowing them to break into small groups while Pellar left to oversee preparations. Reagan strolled closer to the tall windows overlooking the beach.

  The silver pall of twilight hung heavily on the sand. As she watched, a woman walked to the edge of the patio below, her back to the house as she stared at the ocean. The angle of the dining room kept her mostly obscured, but Reagan caught a glimmer of loose dark hair and a pale sundress. A glance at Elijah and Brody, talking quietly, told her neither had noticed. When she looked toward the beach again, the woman was gone.

  “Excuse me. I’ll be back.”

  Elijah grew alarmed as she started past him. “Where are you going?”

  “Bathroom.” He hated social functions but was going to have to fend on his own for a while. Leaning close, she kissed him on the cheek. As an added incentive, she murmured a promise in his ear about what she intended to do to him later that evening. It surprised her she could be so bold, but the brazen innuendo had the effect she wanted when he gulped and grew distracted, allowing her to slip from the room before he could protest.

  Moving swiftly, she headed down the hallway and descended a rear stairway to the lower level of the house. It was possible the woman was part of Sothern’s staff and had been taking a break, but something about this woman felt different. It might have been nothing more than a glimmer of her Irish grandmother’s intuition, but Reagan was convinced the woman had something to do with Sothern and the treasure hunt.

  Unfortunately, the patio was empty when she arrived, cloaked in the same gray twilight she’d noted above. Sweating softly, she stepped to the edge and craned her neck to scan the beach.

  “You have a knack for finding my hiding places,” a woman said behind her.

  Reagan whirled, caught off guard when the dark-haired stranger emerged from a door recessed into the side of the house. She hadn’t noticed it before and realized it was camouflaged to make it appear as part of the stone. A secret passage.

  “You were in the planetarium with me.” She was surprised by the accusatory tone of her voice.

  “Yes.” The woman didn’t try to deny it.

  “On the beach, and in the hallway.”

  “Yes.” She stepped closer. Her shoulder-length hair carried a loose, curling wave and, although her eyes were the color of dark chocolate, something about their shape was familiar.

  “Who are you?” Reagan demanded.

  The woman wet her lips. “It’s time you know the truth. I’m Brody Simpson’s wife.”

  Chapter 17

  “I don’t have a good feeling about this,” Brody said to Elijah. “Not that Tarvick ever plays fair, but he’s gone off the deep end this time.”

  Elijah scowled at his friend, wishing he could decide once and for all whether to trust the man. “Funny. I was thinking the same about you.”

  “So we’re back to that.” Brody sighed and scuffed a hand through his hair. “Look, kid, this isn’t like it seems.”

  “No shit.” Elijah took a sip of his lime spritzer, wondering where Reagan had vanished. She’d already been gone over ten minutes and that was too long for a simple trip to the bathroom. He’d managed to keep himself pleasantly distracted by recalling the promise she’d whispered in his ear, detailing how she planned to make him groan in pleasure. Hell, if she wasn’t getting bold, even brassy, telling him what she planned to do and how she planned to do it. He needed to get back in the game of talking to Brody before he gave himself a hard-on thinking about her.

  “Rook’s journal is the find of a lifetime. It could turn anyone into a Judas.”

  “Not me,” Brody assured.

  Elijah looked at him, measuring the truth in his eyes. There might be a significant age gap between them, but he’d always held Brody in high esteem, considering him as much big brother as mentor and friend. “What’s your connection to Pellar?”

  Brody rolled his eyes. “I can’t tell you. Not now.”

  “Then there is one?”

  “Fuck, Elijah, quit beating a dead horse.” Angry, Brody grabbed his arm and yanked him off to the side, away from the others. He dropped his voice to a low hiss. “Whatever’s happened, it’s gotten out of hand. Part of the reason I went belly-up on clue number three is because someone cold-conked me.”

  “What?”

  “Yeah. A nasty crack to the back of the head.”

  Elijah balked. “Why didn’t you say something before?”

  “Because my idiot for brains PhD friend got a stick up his ass that I was trying to
bury him with the fishes.”

  “Then you explain what happened that night.”

  “I can’t. You’re just going to have to trust me.” Despite his usual penchant for cockiness, there was nothing remotely cavalier in Brody’s response. He was as sincere as Elijah had ever seen or heard him. “I never thought Tarvick would make it this far. I think he’s the one who took a whack at me.”

  Elijah hesitated. Was the bald man responsible for slitting his tire and locking him and Reagan in the attic of the wax museum? It made sense Tarvick would want to clear the playing field. Elijah had suspected for years he was as unethical as he was greedy. “Why are you telling me this?”

  Another eye-roll from Brody. “Because the bastard has no scruples, and it’s down to you and him. I think he’s up to his ass in debt. Before this whole thing started, I heard rumors he owed someone a lot of money. Someone with Mob connections. I blew it off at the time, but if that’s the case, there’s no telling how far he’ll go to get his hands on Rook’s journal. Maybe you and Regan should walk away.”

  “So you and Pellar can have it?”

  Brody swore under his breath. “Elijah, I’m your friend. I’ve always been your friend. One day soon you’re going to realize that. In the meantime, don’t do anything stupid.” He started to turn away, but Elijah caught his arm before he could stalk off in a fit of temper.

  “Wait.” Brody was right. They’d been friends from the moment they’d met, striking up an instant rapport. No matter how bad circumstance conspired to make Brody look, Elijah couldn’t believe his friend would turn on him. “I didn’t get whacked over the head, but someone tried to take me out of the game during clue three, too. I thought it might have been you.”

  “Me?”

  Briefly, Elijah told him about the butchered tire and what happened at the wax museum.

  “Had to be Tarvick,” Brody decided when he’d finished. He paced off a small circle and mumbled something under his breath that sounded suspiciously like “shouldn’t have included him.”

  Elijah eyed him critically. “I wish you’d tell me what’s going on.”

  “I–” Brody stopped pacing and clamped his mouth shut. A flash of indecision entered his eyes, gone as quickly as it appeared. Before he could say anything further, Pellar swept into the room. Clarice and several members of the house staff trailed behind him, wheeling serving carts laden with platters of food.

  “Dinner, please,” Pellar announced in a nasal voice. He paused to sweep the room with a haughty stare, his mouth pinching into a frown as he scanned the group. “I see Dr. Cross has managed to lose Ms. Cassidy. Perhaps someone could find the dear woman before the truffles lose their appeal.”

  Elijah grated his teeth. “Damn, I hate that man.”

  Brody laughed and clapped him on the back. “I don’t think he’s all that enamored of you either, Doc. Why don’t you see if you can locate Reagan and I’ll pacify Pellar until you get back?”

  Elijah nodded, glad to escape the stuffy atmosphere. As he strode down the hall, he realized Brody had been on the brink of telling him something critical. Whatever the revelation, Pellar’s timely arrival had put the kibosh on his friend’s confession. Planned or coincidental? It seemed for every inch of progress he made in understanding his friend’s duplicity there was something new to muddy the water.

  Brody was concerned about Tarvick. In that, Elijah agreed. If the bald man owed money to the Mob, he’d do a lot more than lock doors and slit tires to get his hands on Rook’s journal. Historic significance aside, the marine artifact would net a fortune on the antiquities market. And what had Brody meant when he’d mumbled something about not including Tarvick? Had he merely been expressing regret over Sothern’s decision to involve Tarvick in the treasure hunt? For that matter, where the bloody hell was Sothern? Pellar’s insistence their mysterious host had been called out of town on business was a load of bullshit in Elijah’s opinion. Maybe Brody wasn’t as involved as he’d originally thought, but Pellar was definitely up to his neck in whatever game Sothern was playing.

  He shook his head. One more clue, one more day, and the whole convoluted mess would be over. He could get back to doing what he did best, research, lecturing and diving. Except he didn’t want to walk away from Reagan. Would she still want to see him after the treasure hunt ended? Win or lose, the week would be over and she could stroll away. Would she be embarrassed by what she considered a fling with a younger man?

  He rounded the corner to the bathroom and saw the door was standing open, the interior dark. Had Reagan headed upstairs for some reason? There were too many rooms in the damn house and far too many bathrooms. He was about to backtrack to the dining room when Reagan slipped through a doorway at the end of the hall. Her face was white and she looked nervous and befuddled. She came to an immediate halt when she saw him.

  Alarmed, Elijah crossed quickly to her side, gripping her by the shoulders. “Reagan, what’s wrong? You look upset.” Hell, she looked like she’d seen a ghost. “Where were you?”

  “I…I needed some air. I went outside on the patio.” She wet her lips in a visible effort to regain her composure and laughed nervously. “What happened? Did Pellar send you looking for me?”

  Elijah frowned. With all the treachery pinging around, the last thing he needed was for Reagan to turn cryptic too. “There’s something you’re not telling me.” The color had crept back into her face but she still seemed shaken.

  “No. I just–” She swallowed hard, looking up at him, her eyes vivid pools of green. She raised a hand and closed her fingers over his where his hand rested on her shoulder. “I’m just tired. The treasure hunt, Pellar, Brody…the week has been exhausting. I guess everything caught up with me at once.” She slid under his shoulder and leaned against him. “Maybe we could skip dinner. I just want to be with you.”

  Her words didn’t sound like the words of woman who intended to walk away when the week was over. He’d be more than happy to skip dinner and the stuffy atmosphere of the circular dining room. They could always grab something later from the kitchen if they were hungry, but he sensed her reluctance to dine with the others had little to do with the pompous trappings. Maybe she’d gotten a call on her cell that related to something at home. Her family, uncle, or her business.

  “Are you sure everything is alright?” He stroked a finger down her cheek to her lips, acutely conscious when they parted beneath his touch. In the semi-shadows of the hallway her eyes were overly bright, her hair the deep red of aged merlot. Rather than answer, she slipped a hand behind his neck and pulled his head down for a kiss.

  He responded by holding her closer and claiming her mouth with the same nova-bright passion that always flared electric between them. This time, it was tempered by his concern and a desire to protect. There was something she wasn’t telling him, but he respected her privacy. It made him realize how head-over-heels he’d fallen, how much he didn’t want the week to end if only so they could spend time together. Breaking the kiss, he dipped his lips close to her ear and nuzzled the lobe. “Let’s go upstairs.”

  She drew a quavering breath. “So you can make love to me?”

  “No.” He wanted to do that. God, he wanted to, but didn’t want her to think it was only about sex. Maybe he was growing unsettled with the treasure hunt winding down and trying to make sense of Brody’s role in what felt like a scheme, but he was abruptly tired of double-talk. “So I can tell you that I love you. I know we’ve only been together a short time, but I know what I feel and don’t want to lose you.”

  Jackass. Had he really said that?

  He expected her to scoff or backpedal. Instead, she made a choked sound and ducked her head against his chest. He felt her tremble.

  “Tell me that at this time tomorrow and I’ll believe you.” She raised her head, the glimmer of tears bright in her eyes. “I love you too, Elijah. I don’t care about the journal anymore. I just want to be with you.”

  He smiled despite the ma
rked trace of sadness in her voice. A tear leaked from the corner of her eye and he thumbed it away. “I take it back. I do want to make love to you.”

  Her smile was soft, not nearly as bright as his. When he caressed her cheek and bent his head to kiss her, he felt her passion, bright and burning as a dying star. There was desperation in her kiss he didn’t understand, but it was overshadowed by love and need. It was all the signal he needed to take her upstairs to his bed.

  * * * *

  Reagan knew she’d sleep little, if at all. Tomorrow would bring the culmination of the treasure hunt. Elijah would either figure out what she’d learned that night from Brody’s wife or the whole thing would blow up in Brody’s face. She’d been right all along. Elijah’s friend had been deceitfully involved in the treasure hunt from the start, but not in the manner she’d expected. Would Elijah forgive her when it was over, for not telling him what she’d discovered?

  She rolled onto her side to face him. She should have been drowsy from their lovemaking, sleeping as peacefully as he, but worry had stolen her contentment. Damn Brody, his guilt-ridden wife, and Rook’s journal for mucking up her life. Maybe a thriving business, two cats and a goldfish didn’t take the place of a loving relationship, but she’d been satisfied. Why the hell had she fallen in love with a quirky marine archeologist who was apt to tell her to take a hike once he learned she’d kept clue number five a secret?

  “Please. You have to let everything play out the way we devised it,” Brody’s wife had begged. “I know you care for Elijah. I’ve seen you with him, but Brody has done all of this for me. I need the chance to make things right.”

  Reagan nestled closer to Elijah. Maybe everything would play out the way the woman hoped with fairy-tale endings, happily-ever-afters and rainbows. She gave a mental snort, far more fatalistic in her viewpoint of life.

  Elijah mumbled something in his sleep and shifted. The movement exposed the sharp line of his hipbone and the dark mat of hair between his legs where the sheet barely covered him. Her face grew warm as she remembered how she’d fondled him, then taken him in her mouth as she’d brazenly promised in the dining room. She’d had him ready to burst when he entered her, his lack of control as stimulating as every powerful thrust of his body. They’d been a little crazed that first time. She with the need to convince him through passion, kiss, and stroke that she loved him despite the secret she kept; him wanting to show her it wasn’t about sex or a fling. The man really did love her, a treasure more cherished than any journal, and capable of ripping out her heart.