by Ally Blue
God, please don’t let him kill me. “Doctor Martin. Father, I think they’ve been tracking it as we have, but they don’t know where it is, they don’t, I swear! I can get it before they find it!”
“Martin. Of course.” Carson sneered, his hand tightening around Luke’s throat. “This is unfortunate, but we will deal with it. What I would like to know, my son, is where you have been, and what you have done.”
Luke tried to draw a breath. It was like sucking air through a narrow straw. Black spots swam in front of his eyes. “Father, please,” he choked. “I can’t breathe.”
For a second, Carson just stared, his face set in lines of hate and disgust, fingers tightening like a vice. Luke’s vision began to narrow, and he wondered if Carson really would kill him this time.
Just as Luke felt consciousness slipping away, Carson let go. Luke dropped to the floor, sucking in great gulps of air. His head pounded and it hurt to swallow. He wondered if he’d have to shift again to heal whatever damage Carson had done.
Wouldn’t be the first time, he thought bitterly.
“Tell me what happened,” Carson demanded, as coolly as if he hadn’t just nearly strangled his adopted son. “From the beginning. Leave nothing out.”
Gingerly fingering the bruise he felt blossoming on his throat, Luke sat with his back against the wall. “I went down yesterday morning to look around the area where we think the idol is. The silt there is very deep, and there’s a sunken ship partially buried. The idol must be there, Father. Everything leads there.” The lie rolled off Luke’s tongue easily. He’d had years of practice lying for self-preservation.
“How deep?”
“About eighty-four meters.”
Carson nodded, hands clasped behind his back. “And what of my old nemesis, the good Professor Martin? You say that he hasn’t found it.”
“That’s right.” Luke watched warily as his father paced the room. “They’re looking, but they’re several kilometers off. As long as we’re careful not to let them spot us, we can get the idol before they even find the right area to look in.”
“And there, young one, is the crux of the matter. Being certain that they do not spot us.” Carson stopped and pinned Luke with a penetrating stare. “Would that have anything to do with why you were missing for an entire day and did not report in?”
“No, they didn’t see me,” Luke answered, swallowing panic. It wasn’t a total lie. Martin’s people hadn’t seen his human form.
He hoped.
“Then why could you not come back? Why could you not even call?”
Luke blinked up at his father, and realized with a sinking feeling that he had to tell Carson about his injury. If he didn’t, he had no excuse for being AWOL. And he didn’t want the caning his father would surely give him for that.
No way was he telling Carson about Austin though. He didn’t want to put the man who’d saved his life in danger.
“One of their people shot a spear gun at me,” Luke confessed. “It hit my tentacle. I made it to the beach at Cat Island, shifted to human and passed out. When I woke up, I shifted again and swam to the mainland, then stole some clothes and walked back here.”
The lie slipped out smooth as silk. His education may not have been a conventional one, but he’d learned many useful skills, such as lying while looking the deceived square in the eye.
Carson smiled, a cold smile that sent chills racing up Luke’s spine. “But Luke, you just insisted that they did not see you.”
Luke pulled his knees up to his chest, his eyes never leaving his father’s face. “They didn’t see my human form. I’m sure they didn’t even get a good look at my octopus form. Why would they try to spear a giant octopus? They’re scientists, they wouldn’t…”
Luke was abruptly cut off when Carson kicked him in the ribs. He curled up on the floor, trying to breathe through the blinding pain.
Carson leaned down and grabbed a handful of Luke’s hair, yanking his head up. “Worthless child!” Carson hissed. “How dare you let them see you?”
Luke bit back the whimper of pain that wanted to come out. It would only make his father angrier. “I, I’m sorry, Father, I’m sorry, it won’t happen again, I promise!”
“You’re right, it won’t.” Carson slammed Luke’s head against the wall, sending bright flares of agony through him. “Because if it does, you will not live to regret it. Remember that.”
Luke couldn’t answer. He collapsed in a heap when Carson let him go, and watched Carson’s expensive leather shoes measure long strides across the carpet.
At the door, Carson turned. “You will report to my suite in ten minutes. You will brief the rest of the team, then we will decide on an approach that will prevent Martin from discovering the location of the idol. Thanks to your stupidity, we will need to be much more careful than we’d originally thought.”
Luke kept quiet, huddling around his pain and the familiar helpless resentment.
Shaking his head, Carson walked back over and kicked Luke in the knee. “Pathetic. Clean yourself up.”
Carson turned on his heel and left, slamming the door behind him. Using the wall as a support, Luke staggered to his feet. He took a swift inventory of how he felt. His knee twinged where Carson had kicked it, his ribs ached with every breath, and his throat felt like raw meat, but there didn’t seem to be any real damage. At least Carson hadn’t broken any bones this time. Shifting didn’t always heal those right away.
Dragging himself into the bathroom to shower, Luke wondered what would happen to him if he left his father. It wasn’t the first time he’d wondered. He’d had the same longing, rebellious thought every time Carson had ever hit him, or told him what a poor excuse for a son he was. He could remember sitting on the deck of his father’s ship as a child, his lip split and one eye swollen shut, wishing he could escape. Just swim off into the deep where Carson’s equipment couldn’t take him, swim away and find ... Something. A vague half-remembered dream of family and love and belonging.
He’d never stopped wanting that. But, he’d never seen any hope of having it. He was, as far as he knew, unique, and that meant he’d always be alone. As difficult as life with Carson could be, Luke didn’t know how to leave the only family he knew.
Now, for the first time in his life, Luke found himself seriously considering freeing himself from his father.
“I could do it,” he told himself as he stepped into the shower. “I could leave, and live my own life.”
I could see Austin again.
The implications stole his breath. Not only touching Austin again, kissing him and swallowing the sounds of his pleasure, but something more. He wasn’t even sure what he wanted, just that he wanted ‑‑ needed ‑‑ to be with Austin. Only Austin. It didn’t make any sense, but he couldn’t deny how he felt.
Rinsing the shampoo out of his hair, Luke suddenly knew how he could free himself from Carson’s clutches. Professor Andrew Martin, known as The Collector. The only person on earth that Luke considered a match for his father. Luke could recover the idol without his father’s knowing and take it to Martin in exchange for the Professor’s protection. He was as wealthy and powerful as Carson, but by all accounts a much gentler person. If he couldn’t protect Luke from Carson’s wrath, no one could.
It was a huge risk, and he knew it. He also knew Carson would have no further use for him once the idol was recovered. He had to act fast if he wanted to live past this expedition.
He did want to live, now more than ever. Closing his eyes, Luke leaned into the soothing spray of the warm water and let his plan take shape in his mind.
Chapter Two
Dr. Andrew Martin pulled his wool coat tighter around him, shivering in the biting February cold. Gazing out over the tiny mountain valley, he chuckled quietly to himself. If Phelan saw him sitting outside in near-freezing temperatures ‑‑ drinking, God forbid ‑‑ she’d never let him out of her sight again.
“It’s a very good thing she’s n
ot here, then,” he said aloud. Raising his mug of buttered rum, he silently toasted the sunset.
He’d been here at his newly acquired Tennessee vacation home for almost two months. Sitting on the deck, drinking and watching the sunset instead of finding the idol, he thought, not without a twinge of bitterness. It galled him to be forced to stay behind during any expedition, especially this one. The fact that he hadn’t dived in twenty years and was rather prone to seasickness these days didn’t make it any easier to be left out. But doctor’s orders were, according to Phelan, indisputable. His doctors told him it was “inadvisable” to spend weeks on the open ocean in February, Phelan put her immaculately shod foot down, and that was that.
“Overly cautious bunch of pampered buffoons, the lot of them,” he muttered, wrapping his hands around his steaming mug to warm them. “They’d never have survived some of the expeditions I’ve led.”
At least Phelan was there to lead this one. In all the years he’d known her, Audra Phelan had never let him down. Any goal she set her mind to she accomplished, seemingly without effort, her brisk and businesslike manner rarely wavering. If anyone on this Earth could find the hidden resting place of the ancient idol ‑‑ and find the right people to recover it ‑‑ she could.
He hoped this challenge wouldn’t be the one to finally prove too tough even for Phelan. They’d been searching for weeks, ever since he’d finally narrowed the location of the idol down to the Northern part of the Gulf of Mexico. So far, no likely candidates had been found. In addition, Phelan had informed him two weeks ago that Carson Cordova was there ahead of them.
They were running out of time. Carson must not be allowed to lay hands on the idol.
A flat, tinny version of Flight of the Valkyrie interrupted Dr. Martin’s thoughts. Setting his mug on the slate-topped table beside him, he picked up his cell phone and flipped it open, cutting off the music.
“The Collector here,” he said, keeping his smile out of his voice.
“That’s really not necessary, sir,” Phelan told him.
He laughed at the long-suffering tone in her voice. “But Audra, I have so few amusements here, alone as I am.”
“Of course. Sir, there is a man here you need to meet. How quickly can you get to Biloxi?”
Something in Phelan’s voice sent excitement surging through Martin’s blood. “I can fly down tomorrow. Is he the one we’re looking for?”
“Yes.”
“You’re sure?”
“Absolutely. He has skills that make him uniquely suited to finding this particular artifact.” Her voice dropped down low. “Sir, he’s one of the protectors.”
A frisson of excitement shot through Martin’s blood. If this man was one of the mysterious race of shapeshifters who had once guarded the idol Martin sought, he would have an intrinsic link to it.
“How do you know he’s one of them?” he asked.
“I saw him shift. We were one hundred feet down, when one of the men saw something in the water nearby. He shot it with a spear gun. When I looked, I saw a large, gray-blue octopus, a species definitely not native to the area. It was bleeding, and it looked as though its tentacle had been injured. As I watched, the octopus shifted into a human being and back again.”
Martin picked up his mug and took a sip. The curl of steam from the hot liquid glowed golden in the level rays of the setting sun. “Did anyone else see?”
“I don’t believe so. There were only four of us on that dive, and during the few seconds the octopus remained in the area, Jakes and Clark had their attention on Linville, who’d shot the spear gun. When we got back to the ship, neither Jakes nor Clark said a word. So either they didn’t see what I did, or they’re far better than I thought at being discreet.”
“What about Linville?”
“He claimed to have seen a monster.” Phelan’s voice fairly dripped with disdain, and Martin smiled. His right-hand woman had no patience with hysterics, or with jumping to unsupported conclusions. “Naturally, no one listened to him. He had an episode of nitrogen narcosis a couple of years ago, so of course the immediate conclusion most of the team drew what that this was another episode. I did not disabuse them of that notion.”
“Good. We’ll need to keep this bit of information to ourselves.” Martin tapped his foot on the wide boards of the deck. “I’ll have the plane prepared tonight, and fly out first thing in the morning.”
“Andrew?”
Phelan’s voice had gone tight. Martin frowned. “What is it?”
“There’s a complication.”
“What sort of complication?” An idea occurred to Martin, putting a knot of dread in his belly. “Audra. This man you’ve found. The shifter. What is his name?”
Phelan sighed. “Luke Cordova.”
Martin cursed under his breath. “Carson’s son.”
“He already knows about the idol, Andrew. He offered it to us, in exchange for his safety.”
“His safety from whom?”
“From his father.”
Leaning back in his chair, Martin closed his eyes. “Complication” was far too mild a word for this. Ever since he’d returned from Zanzibar with the boy nearly thirty years ago, Carson had kept his adopted son close. So close that few outside Carson’s crew had ever seen him. If Carson discovered what Luke had done, his fury would be murderous. Literally.
“Is Luke with you now?” Martin asked, setting his mug back down. “Being seen with him could mean your life, Audra. I am not willing to risk that.”
“He swam up to the yacht yesterday. He and I only spoke for a moment. No one saw us.” She paused, as if gathering her thoughts. “He had bruises, Andrew. Cuts. Burns, for God’s sake. We must help him.”
Martin rubbed his brow. It didn’t surprise him to learn Carson abused the boy. But it provided one more reason to tread lightly. He refused to risk Phelan’s life, and he’d just as soon hang on to his own skin for a while longer. Moreover, he didn’t want to put Luke in further danger, not after the boy had risked everything by approaching Phelan in the first place.
“Of course we’re going to help him,” Martin said. “I would, even if he were not the one destined to recover the idol. The fact that he is only makes me more determined.” He tapped his chin with one thin finger, brow furrowing. “How are we to set up a meeting with him? Is he able to get away from Carson?”
“Mr. Cordova is currently in California on other business.” Phelan spat the man’s name as if it were a rancid piece of meat. “His people watch Luke, but not as closely as their employer would like. They’re afraid of him, but they also believe him to be utterly under his father’s thumb.”
“Clearly he isn’t, since he defied Carson so boldly. Yet he leads Carson’s people to think what he wants them to.” Martin laughed, the sound tight and wheezing. “It seems the boy has a gift for subterfuge. Excellent.”
“Yes. Sir, you sound terrible, you’re not outside are you?”
Martin smiled at the anxious tone to Phelan’s voice. “I was watching the sunset, my dear. I’m going in right now, to prepare for tomorrow’s trip. I’ll see you at the airport, yes?”
“Yes, sir. Redemption is still anchored about thirty miles offshore. Simmons, Donaldson and I came back to Biloxi for supplies, and for me to contact you without danger of having our transmission intercepted. We’ll be able to stay for a couple more days before it begins to look suspicious.”
“Very good. I’ll see you in the morning. Oh, and Audra?”
“Yes?”
“Excellent work, as always. What would I do without you?”
Phelan didn’t answer that question, but Martin could practically see her glowing. For some reason, taking care of him made her happy. As making Phelan happy was one of his few true pleasures these days, he indulged it whenever he could.
“Thank you, sir,” she said, brisk as ever. “See you tomorrow.”
Clicking the phone closed, Martin sat in the gathering dark and thought. About Luke Cord
ova, and the idol they both sought. Right now, the boy cared nothing for the idol in and of itself; he was using it to bargain for his life. With a man like Carson Cordova as a role model, Martin wasn’t surprised that Luke thought he needed a bargaining chip for his safety.
Martin wondered what Luke would say when he found out that he, not The Collector, was destined to receive the idol’s gift.
He pushed to his feet, grimacing at the pain that seemed to permeate his entire body lately. No time for that. There’s work to be done.
Draining the last of the cooling rum from his mug, Martin turned his back on the cold winter night and headed inside to prepare for the following day.
Chapter Three
“Stop right there.”
Luke stopped outside the door to his hotel room, his back to the mass of muscle and temper assigned to make sure he stayed in line while Father was away, and smiled. The man was almost too easy to manipulate. Schooling his face into an expression of cowering fear, he turned to face his latest bodyguard.
“I need to go for a swim, Mr. Taggart,” he said, making sure his voice had just the right degree of quiver to it.
“You just went yesterday,” Taggart growled. “Don’t push your luck with me, boy.”
“I ... I’m getting weak,” Luke insisted, leaning against the wall as if to emphasize his point. “Please, just a couple of hours. I need it. Father will be angry if I’m too weak to function when he returns.”
Taggart’s shaggy brows drew together in an expression of ponderous thought. Luke held his breath. Ever since he’d felt the first deep ache of exhaustion after spending time in his octopus form, he’d used his need to shift to secure blessed time alone in the ocean. He’d proposed the theory that extra shifts might strengthen him, and so far it had worked like a charm. If it didn’t work today, he wasn’t sure what he’d do. He’d never been good at sneaking away in human form, but missing his appointment with The Collector was not an option.
He’d taken a huge risk yesterday, approaching The Collector’s yacht in octopus form and shifting to human. There’d been no guarantee that he wouldn’t be shot on sight, or turned over to the authorities. Most people tend not to trust men who swim naked up to their boats.