She believed him, and the negative feelings she’d had for him suddenly seemed foreign. And irrational. “I was out of air—”
“So what the hell happened down there?” he demanded, pulling up his mask. “Weren’t you paying attention to your time?”
Before she could answer Morgan, Innis yelled down from the diver platform. “My God, there you are! I thought you slipped by me and came up. I was just about to go back down to find you.”
Indeed, he stood there fully dressed to dive.
The stress of the situation having drained her, she said, “Help me up, would you?”
Innis grabbed her hands, and behind her, Morgan secured her hips and lifted. She was on the platform in seconds.
“I ran out of air!” she gasped.
“Weren’t you watching your gauge?” Innis asked as Morgan lunged up beside her.
“According to my gauge, I have half my air left.”
Morgan tried to take a look, but, his expression fierce, Innis latched onto the front of his buoyancy-compensator vest and shoved him back against the pilothouse, where he crashed into a slender woman. Thrown off balance, she grabbed Morgan, who kept her from falling.
“Brigitte, are you all right?” Cordelia asked as she struggled with the straps of her vest to remove it.
“No worries,” the woman murmured.
Innis helped Cordelia shed her equipment, after which he tested the gauge and tank. He shook his head. “Tank is empty all right. And the gauge is stuck. Either that was some coincidence…or someone tampered with it.” He gave Morgan a blazing look.
“Hey, I’m just the Good Samaritan who was trying to help.”
That Morgan had been conveniently nearby didn’t escape her.
Her good thoughts about him drifted away as the end of the dream replayed itself in full Technicolor in her mind.
Innis glared at Morgan. “You could have swam here in the middle of the night and stolen aboard to do your dirty work.”
“Were you trying to stop me from finding the mother lode by scaring me to death?” Cordelia cried.
Morgan’s expression went directly to neutral, but his gaze cut through her. “Believe what you will.” Not trying to convince her otherwise, he backed up.
She couldn’t stop herself from pressing him, from trying to get to the truth. “What happened to the partnership you proposed just last night?”
Was the glory of being the one to find the mother lode so important to the treasure hunter that he was willing to play Russian roulette with her life?
His gaze deepened, and she read things in it she wanted to believe.
“My mistake.” He rolled into the water.
Shaking now, she watched him go.
Innis took her in his arms and murmured, “I’ll never let him hurt you.”
But the suddenly hollow feeling inside her at the way Morgan had closed himself off from her told her that it was already too late.
…
All pretense of negotiations gone, Morgan took to the sea like he had a demon inside him. Though he’d been angry just with Innis to start when the man had forced him back, he’d held himself in check for Cordelia’s sake. He tried not to think about the ungrateful wretch. He’d helped Cordelia out of a dangerous situation—she could have died down there!—and she’d turned on him in a heartbeat, simply on Foley’s say-so. He should have known he couldn’t trust her.
Diving alone against all good sense, he was determined to finish his air. He had nearly a third of his tank left. He went deeper than he had before.
His pulse began to thud just visualizing Cordelia, remembering how it felt to hold her in his arms on the dance floor, not to mention the out-and-out chemistry of that kiss. There was more to it, though, a connection he couldn’t define. It was as if they had known each other forever, maybe in another lifetime.
Feel it…this need to be together which frightens us both…
Closing his mind to the imagined whisper, Morgan shook himself back to reality.
The kiss meant nothing. He was no sucker. He had to be out for himself—no one else around here gave a damn about him. Well, maybe Emmett. His only regret was that he’d given Cordelia the jeweled chain and moon. Even if he didn’t find the celestial girdle, that piece of it would be worth a pretty penny.
Morgan forced his mind to the purpose of the dive. Foley’s crew had left the grid, and he took the opportunity to check on what they’d done.
Not much. The sand they’d blown away was already encroaching on the site. Nothing sparkled, nothing so much as shone from the sand. They would have to remove more before finding treasure.
Treasure…the ring he’d found on the beach…damn!
He’d forgotten to take it off before diving. Wearing any kind of jewelry in the water was a bad idea. Barracuda especially were drawn by the sparkle. He didn’t dare take it off now and put it in a pocket lest he lose it. If he dropped it here, the sand would suck it up and he’d never find it. So on his finger it stayed.
He swam toward an area of the site that peaked his interest, just outside Foley’s grid. Sifting through the sand by hand—a soothing, repetitive motion—was good therapy. It calmed the anger seething inside him. He found bits of rusted metal from the ship itself, but nothing of any worth.
And then his ring started feeling too tight. What the hell? Why would his finger suddenly swell? Now that was annoying.
Trying not to let it bother him, Morgan worked for a few minutes more but found nothing to make him want to stay. About to give it up and return to the Sea Rover, he realized he wasn’t alone. A large shadow was coming straight toward him through the water made murky by the sand he’d disturbed. Certain that it was a shark, he wasn’t overly concerned, not until, from the corner of his eye, he caught a glimpse of another shadow arrowing his way. And a third from the other side. The shark wasn’t alone. It had friends, and they all seemed too interested in him.
With the damn ring feeling even tighter, he backed off and kicked his flippers, at the same time inflating his BC to bring him more quickly to the surface.
The sharks moved faster.
The three tiger sharks bore down on him, and for the first time in his life while diving, Morgan knew real fear, had to remind himself to keep breathing, to move smoothly, to not give the sharks reason to attack. He slipped his dive knife from the sheath belted to his thigh and prepared to defend himself.
The predators circled him as he rose through the water. The circle grew tighter and tighter, and he could sense them preparing for an attack. Though he could see daylight shimmering overhead, the surface was still some distance away.
And then the biggest of the sharks lunged for him. Without thinking, Morgan struck out, not with his knife hand but with the bared one. He caught the attacker in the nose. The contact ignited something unexpected. A hot, sharp current jolted up through his arm into his teeth and made the shark jerk back.
As if shocked, the predator stopped dead in the water, froze for a few seconds before spinning around. Then like a bullet from a gun, it shot straight away from him.
The other two predators followed suit.
Leaving Morgan limp with relief and more than a little puzzled.
What had just happened?
Still holding the dive knife he hadn’t used, he finished his ascent with all senses primed for more trouble.
What the hell had just happened?
How had he created what had felt like an electrical shock by hitting the shark in the nose? And he’d drawn his dive knife. Why hadn’t he used that? It was as if his arm had acted of its own volition. An instinctual move? Or had something… someone…prompted it?
Chapter Fifteen
Morgan surfaced and hoisted himself onto the dive platform and just stood there until his
world righted itself. His divers were sitting on deck eating lunch. Two were deep in some conversation, the third was listening to music via earphones. Still off-kilter, he removed his mask and flippers.
Coming to the rail, Emmett told him, “Food’s on the galley counter,” then seemed to take a better look. “Something wrong?”
“I was almost bait for a trio of tiger sharks.”
The old man swore and joined him on the dive platform. “Let me help you.”
Morgan released the catches of his buoyancy-compensator vest and the first mate relieved him of the weight of the tank.
“What happened down there?” Emmett asked.
As he removed his wet suit, Morgan told him about the scare, leaving out the part about the jolt he’d felt when he smacked the shark in the nose.
“Sounds weird to me. Usually if a diver runs into trouble with a shark, it’s because the shark was nearby. But you say these guys came at you out of nowhere?”
Morgan nodded. “Seemed odd to me, too.” Then again the whole incident had been odd. He started to gather up his equipment.
“I’ll take care of the gear. Go get yourself some chow.”
Morgan grunted, boarded the boat, and went below. He was too disturbed by what had happened to feel like eating; nevertheless, he loaded up his plate with beans and chicken. Maybe the sensation of stepping out of his depths would pass.
As he ate, he went over the entire incident in his head and remembered the ring feeling too tight. Not anymore. He pulled it off his finger and stared at it. Ever since he’d found the ring, strange things had been happening to him. He thought about glimpsing the dark-haired woman, about feeling foreign emotions, and hearing voices in his head. About the voice he’d heard on the dive. Had its owner saved him?
Morgan wasn’t one to believe in magic.
And yet…
Though it seemed beyond belief, he muttered, “Was it you?”
“Was it who?” Emmett asked, stepping into the galley. “You’re talking to that ring you found the other night? What’s going on, Morgan?”
Morgan sighed. “I didn’t tell you everything. When I smacked the shark, I was wearing this.” He indicated the ring.
“And—”
“And this big jolt shot up my arm. It was as if I zapped the shark with a live wire.”
“You’re saying the power came from the ring?”
He guessed he was because he couldn’t think of another explanation. “Crazy, huh?”
“Heard crazier. I’ve lived around the islands all my life, you know. Lots of superstition. Lots of spells cast, both good and bad. I’ve seen people with fetishes, mojo bags, Voodoo dolls. And they all worked at times.” Emmett sat opposite Morgan and threw what looked like an outline of man cut out in black felt about three inches long. “This is crazy, too.”
“What is it?”
“Gris-gris. Found it in one of your vest pockets. Look inside.”
Morgan picked up the object made of felt, aware of something hard inside. Widening the opening on one side, he shook out the contents covered with what looked like gunpowder—a small strip of folded paper and a very large tooth.
“Tiger-shark tooth,” Emmett muttered.
Morgan started. His first mate had been around these waters all his life, so he would know. Morgan opened the folded paper and sucked in his breath at what was written there: Morgan Murphy.
“Looks like someone put a curse on you.”
Morgan shook his head but he couldn’t deny it, couldn’t say he didn’t believe it could be possible, not after what he’d just experienced.
“So how did that gris-gris get in your vest pocket?” Emmett asked.
“You got me. Could someone have sneaked onto the Sea Rover and planted it during the night?”
“Not without me knowing. I slept on deck last night and I wake up at every little noise. Besides, the sneak would have to know which equipment was yours. Who’d want you to run into trouble anyhow?”
Morgan thought back to what happened right before entering the water. “I saw the Ward woman run out of air and gave her my spare hose. I brought her up and to the salvage boat.”
“Saw you bring the woman up…and saw Foley shove you around, too.”
“Foley grabbed me by the front of my BC vest to get me away from Cordelia.” Morgan replayed the incident in his mind.
“Coulda been him. Or that island woman you banged into.”
Morgan couldn’t say if one of them had actually done it. “I was angry but also distracted, worried about what happened to Cordelia.”
If someone at the dive site had actually used Voodoo against him, Cordelia could be in real trouble.
…
Innis was glad to be rid of Morgan Murphy. Surely the pirate wouldn’t be coming back at Cordelia. Not after an encounter that would scare the living daylights out of any man. Using binoculars, all he’d been able to see were shadowy shapes circling Murphy below.
Watching his second string teams go off the diving platform to continue the search, Innis thought that he’d waited too long for this. Twelve years too long. He and Cordelia never should have been separated. She’d been his from the first moment he’d met her. He’d always known it. This was his opportunity to convince her that destiny had brought them back together after what seemed like an eternity.
If only he’d rescued her before Murphy had. Then he’d be her hero.
“That man,” Brigitte said, coming up behind him, “he got some kinda magic of his own.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You think them sharks went after him on their own?”
Innis started. “What did you do?”
“I helped you, cher. You want the woman, yes?” Smiling, she shrugged and walked away.
His heart thundered as he stared after her, but he pulled himself together when Madelyn crossed over to Foley’s Treasure.
Her expression showed her concern. “Innis, what happened?”
A little stunned, he swallowed hard. “Cordelia’s air gauge stuck. Don’t worry. When we go down again, she’ll have a new one.”
“I didn’t mean that exactly.”
“What then?”
“She’s upset about something else. I know my daughter. I simply can’t get her to open up until she’s ready. I thought you might be able to clue me in.”
Cordelia had gone over to the Evening Star, saying she needed some time alone to think things through.
About him?
“Murphy fed her a line about some partnership last night, then threw it back in her face today.”
“Oh.” Madelyn’s brow drew into a deeper frown. “No wonder she’s so upset.”
“She’s afraid he’ll be the one to find the mother lode and then we’ll be out in the cold.”
“That must be it.”
Though Madelyn didn’t meet his gaze. Instead she looked over at Murphy’s craft as if it could give her the answers she wanted.
Innis’s stomach knotted, and he flashed on that kiss he’d seen Murphy force on Cordelia. Surely she couldn’t be fooled by that damn pirate. Surely Murphy’d had enough and would be gone for good before he had another chance at her.
…
Had Morgan messed with her gauge as Innis had hinted? Cordelia had had a moment’s doubt about Morgan’s intentions, but when she’d seen the vulnerability in his eyes, she hadn’t been so certain. Morgan had saved her life. Surely he hadn’t put it in jeopardy to play hero.
Pacing the length of her cabin, she wondered why he’d given up so easily. Why he hadn’t fought Innis’s accusation? She wished that he would have, but his complex nature—his pride—would probably make him do the exact opposite of whatever it was that she wanted.
There was more to Morgan than was apparent. She needed to understand him. In what ways had he been molded by that lifetime of experience her mother had thought was so significant?
If only she knew more about him.
The media loved treasure hunters. Successful ones even more so. She’d seen and read interviews featuring him half-a-dozen times.
How far back did the stories go?
One way to find out. Sitting at her desk, she turned on her laptop and did a search on sunken treasure hunters named Murphy.
The first few pages were links to stories about Morgan over the past decade or so, after he’d set off on his own. She scanned stories about his success bringing up booty in the Caribbean a few years back. Nothing in them revealed any more about the man until she got to an article with a photo of him with his parents, Daniel and Jane Murphy. The older Murphys waxed poetic about their ambitious and talented son, who had just made that valuable find. Apparently the first thing he’d done with the money was to buy a brand-new home for them. The second was to buy a motorcycle for himself.
Having always put her own parents first, Cordelia recognized they had that in common, something she never would have guessed.
Something that made her respect him.
She changed the search to his father. The results on Daniel Murphy took her further and further back in time. Another family photo, parents and three kids, the girl crying in her mother’s arms. Morgan must have been sixteen or seventeen. The anger in his expression made him look far older.
The story headline: “Treasure Hunters Lose All.”
The article detailed the allegations that multimillionaire Brian Croft had made a handshake deal with the Murphys to find a sunken ship on which he had good information. According to Morgan’s father, Croft had promised to pay all equipment and crew expenses. But as it happened, the search for the sunken ship hadn’t panned out, and Croft refused to pay the expenses of the failed expedition. Morgan’s parents took Croft to court, but since there was no written agreement, it was their word against that of a very wealthy man. Croft claimed that part of the agreement was that the expenses were to have been paid from the treasure, but since there was no treasure, his obligation was done. The Murphys claimed that stipulation had never been brought up. The judge ruled in favor of Croft.
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