Roc pulled his gaze from the tempest and looked to the shelf below. That was where Melinda had found the casket. It was where she would go to search for the lost ship.
He dived quickly, then thrust himself quickly backward as a large lemon shark came nosing into view. Smooth, slim, sleek, it was veering away from Roc, then made a sudden turn into him.
He hit it with the prod.
The shark shuddered and turned instantly away.
Roc blinked hard and turned toward the ledge again, reminding himself that he needed eyes in the back of his head. He kept seeing that wounded blue in his mind, thrashing wildly about, then bitten to pieces.…
It couldn’t have happened to Melinda. He wouldn’t believe it. He wouldn’t allow it to happen.
He reached the shelf and turned toward the crimson waters, trying to assure himself that no new predators were on their way toward him. The frenzy was still going on above him. As he watched, another shark went into a wild fit of thrashing, even farther away than the blue had been.
Peter had shot the creature, he was certain. And bit by bit, Peter was managing to draw the melee away from Roc.
And away from the shelf.
He pitched himself still more deeply downward, then saw the shelf loom into view. There was deep water to the left of it, he thought unwillingly. These were temperate waters. Makos, hammerheads and the like were known to frequent the area, though none of them had appeared as yet. And surely they were in far too temperate a zone for a great white to appear.…
But they had appeared in these waters. Recently, actually.
He had to get a grip on himself. He had to find Melinda.
He swam swiftly alongside the shelf. Then, to his amazement, a wall of timber suddenly seemed to rise above him. He swam swiftly along it, certain that it had not been there before, that he had been to this exact spot and hadn’t seen it.
He came upon a plaque. Grown over. Green with seaweed, laden down with barnacles. He ran a hand over it. Saw letters.
essa
He had found his ship, he realized.
A little late. Apparently Eric Longford had already found her, as had Melinda.
He shot down the length of the broken vessel, not giving a damn about it. He had to find Melinda. Panic began to set in as he realized that more and more sharks were congregating above, even if Peter was managing to move them somewhat.
He swam along the broken wooden bow. Ahead of him, he could see the outstretched, decaying arm of a figurehead. He swam hard toward it.
Suddenly he bumped into something coming around the edge of the ship.
And he saw, miraculously, that it was his wife.
She was about to scream. She had seen the sharks, of course. She had seen the tranquil azure waters become a pool of blood. And she had assumed that he was one of the beasts.
The underwater world was known to be silent. It wasn’t entirely true. He could hear her scream.
And around his mouthpiece, he shouted to her in turn. “It’s me! Careful. Careful!”
Her eyes were very wide, terrified. Well, hell, he had felt that way himself. Yet at the sight of him, she seemed to feel better. She threw her arms around him, clinging to him.
He drew her closer. Held her there for a moment, trembling inside as he realized that while she was alive there was hope.
They had a chance.
But that didn’t change the fact that there was a feeding frenzy going on directly above them, that other predators of the deep were hurrying to join in the tempest.
He realized suddenly that she was nearly out of air. He motioned for her to spit out her mouthpiece and take his. Then he shouted to her in the water. It would be just possible for her to make out his words if she tried.
“We’ve got to head north! To your father’s boat. Do you understand?”
She nodded gravely.
He thrust one of the shark sticks into her grasp, then took the mouthpiece back, just as he was about to inhale sea water.
“Your tanks are no good. We have to share. Understand?”
Again, she nodded, then took a breath from his regulator before trying to talk to him. “Roc! It’s the Contessa!”
“I know, I know. But we’ve got to get out of here.”
She nodded. She did know. But she suddenly let the mouthpiece float between them for a moment so her lips could touch his.
She mouthed the words, Roc. I love you! You came for me.
He mouthed back to her, I’d come for you anywhere!
He set the mouthpiece between her lips, forcing her to inhale deeply. Then he took another breath himself and indicated the length of the hull of the Contessa. She nodded her understanding.
Slowly, carefully, they started down the length of it.
Halfway down, Roc spotted a curious blue. It was only about seven feet long, but it came very near them, fascinated by the call of the blood in the water.
He was ready, prodding the animal swiftly. It shuddered violently and moved off.
It wasn’t big, Roc knew. Not by shark standards. But that didn’t matter. It had rows of fantastically sharp teeth, and one bite from it …
Would have brought on a hundred more!
They were past it, though. Past it. No matter what happened, he couldn’t give way to panic.
He reminded himself that there were researchers who purposely baited the water, anxious to study the creatures. Film crews sometimes went among them, filming events such as this. They survived because they kept cool heads.
And a cool head was what they needed now.
They moved slowly along the length of the ship.
How odd, he thought. After all this time, they had found the Contessa. And they were using her to make their escape from the tempest in the sea above them.
She was long, one hundred and fifty feet. She was also badly damaged. There really wasn’t all that much left. A broken up hull, long covered by the wreck of a World War Two ship. The last vessel had fallen almost completely over the first one. Both of them victims of the sea.
Well, he was determined that they would not be victims, too.
He tried to peer through the water. It wasn’t nearly as crimson here as it had been at the figurehead. If he looked ahead, he was certain he could see the outline of Jonathan Davenport’s ship. But to reach it, they would have to leave the comparative safety of the decaying hulk of the Contessa.
He paused, forcing Melinda to take a deep draft of air. Then he indicated the ship, and she nodded. He pointed to her shark stick, and she nodded again. They had dived together so often before. Even now, Roc thought, they were a good team.
Back to back, they began a northward ascent.
A curious lemon, a small one, came unnervingly close. Roc prodded it. The shark veered away, but it didn’t leave.
A second later another shark began milling uncomfortably close. A blue this time.
Then another blue. And another lemon. Circling them. Swimming away, coming back in again. Close.
Too close.
Too many sharks for them to prod off at one time.
Melinda seemed to sense his thoughts. She turned into him suddenly, taking air from him, then letting the mouthpiece fall. With the sea beasts all around him, she threw her arms around him again— And kissed him.
One last kiss.
Just then Roc felt a sudden thrust against his body. He waited for the rip of teeth, thinking that perhaps he could thrust Melinda upward if the creature had him. But he felt nothing.
Then again, he had heard that a shark bite was so swift and sharp that divers often didn’t feel the teeth.
He looked down, expecting half of his leg to be gone. But his leg wasn’t gone at all. And the sharks were backing away. Even in the midst of their frenzy, they were backing away.
Because Hambone had come.
The playful dolphin was beneath them now, circling slowly, then suddenly streaking through the water and butting against one of the sharks, which
seemed to flop away through the water.
Hambone swam back to them, and Roc caught a firm hold on the dolphin’s flipper. They began to move swiftly. He clung to the flipper and Melinda clung to him.
Miraculously Hambone brought them through the water as if they were flying, somehow knowing that they needed to go north.
Past the field of blood, ten feet from Melinda’s father’s boat, Roc released his hold on the dolphin’s flipper. Moments later they broke the surface, not five feet from the boat.
“Thank you, God!” they heard suddenly.
Roc, spitting out his mouthpiece, looked up. Jonathan was at the edge of the boat, looking very old at that moment, and reaching down to help his daughter aboard.
“Melinda!” he shouted to her.
“Dad!” she cried back.
But she didn’t take his hand, not right away. She ripped off her mask and stared at Roc. “Hambone!” she cried, then dived under.
Roc instantly followed his wife.
The dolphin had come back to them, swimming beneath Melinda, allowing her to stroke his back. To say thank you.
Roc reached out and touched the dolphin, too, staring into the dark eye of the gentle beast, trying to mentally communicate his own appreciation. Then he clamped a hand on his wife’s wrist. They could thank Hambone further later. It was time for the two of them to get aboard.
A hard kick propelled them to the surface once again, and Jonathan was ready once again. He reached down and grabbed his daughter. Bruce and Connie were there, ready too, to pull Roc from the sea. In seconds he and Melinda were both free of their gear, encompassed in warm terry towels and holding steaming cups of coffee.
“You made it. You made it!” Jonathan said anxiously. “Thank God!”
“Thanks Roc,” Melinda said, her smile beautiful as she glanced his way.
He couldn’t take credit. Not under the circumstances. “Thanks to a dolphin!” he said softly.
“Thanks to anything!” Jonathan cried. “You weren’t touched?” he said to his daughter. “Scratched, harmed—”
“Dad, I’m fine.” She looked at her husband again. “I knew I’d be fine the moment I saw Roc’s face.”
She frowned suddenly and stood. Her towel fell from her shoulders, and she thrust her coffee cup to Bruce as she said, “Oh, my God. Roc! You came back for me! That idiot who nearly murdered us both is going to manage to make the claim on your Contessa!”
Roc stood, His towel fell, too. Then he thrust his coffee cup into Bruce’s hands as he caught her in his arms, lifting her chin.
“Who gives a damn about the Contessa!” he told her. “Your father told me something once, the truest words I’ve ever heard. I could search the sea forever, but it wouldn’t matter. I’ve found my treasure. If you’ll just forgive me for being a doubting bastard, I swear I will never forget again that I have the greatest treasure a man can find—my wife.”
There was silence on the boat. The dying sun was golden and orange, its rays streaking across the heavens and the seas. Then Melinda spoke at last. “Oh, my God! Roc, that was beautiful.”
“Can we start out fresh?” he asked very softly.
“Yes!” she whispered. “Oh, yes!”
He kissed her. Kissed her as the last rays of the sun touched them. Kissed her until Jonathan cleared his throat at last.
“Well, that’s lovely, you two, just lovely. But I might be able to add a wee touch of icing to the cake here.”
Roc, his arms around Melinda, turned to his father-in-law. “And what’s that, Jonathan?”
“Well, the Contessa is yours, my boy.”
Roc arched a brow. “Jonathan, even if we tried to convince the authorities that Eric was willing to commit murder to stake his claim, we’d have one hell of a time proving it. In another hour, there won’t be much sign of what happened here.”
Jonathan smiled smugly, taking a seat on the rail.
“But you see, that slimy bastard is going to make it into port to discover that a firm claim has already been made on the Contessa.”
“You made a claim?” Melinda gasped.
Jonathan shook his head. Then he nodded. “Well, yes. And no,” he said.
“You’ve gone and outdone me again,” Roc said, but there was no anger in his words.
Jonathan shook his head firmly. “I made the claim, all right, Roc. But I did it in your name. I just happened to get lucky the day my daughter opted out on me and managed to get that slime to drop her off in the middle of the ocean. I made the same find Melinda did, a few pieces of silverware.” He shrugged. “I hadn’t actually found the ship, but … well, hell, it had to be here. So I made the claim, saying that I was in your employ for the time.”
Roc stared at his father-in-law. Then he threw up his hands. “But if you made the find—”
“I didn’t make the find! I still thought you were an idiot about the whole thing, but then, the last time I’d doubted you, well, I was proved a fool. In many, many ways,” he added softly.
“But, Jonathan—”
“Roc, the find is yours. It always was. And there wouldn’t be a damned bit of justice in the world if you didn’t accept me as a crew member on this one.”
Roc had gone stiff. Melinda could feel it.
“I don’t know, Jonathan. Thinking is one thing. Finding is another.”
But Jonathan stretched out a hand to his son-in-law. “I have a feeling we might be working together again—son.”
“You taught me so much. This—”
“And you’ve managed to teach me a hell of a lot, too. How about it, Cap’n Trellyn?”
Melinda wanted to cry out loud in frustration as Roc continued to stand so stiffly. He was so proud.
Then she felt it. Felt the give within him, the massive release of tension. And he stretched out his hand to her father.
“Deal?” Jonathan said softly.
“Deal,” Roc agreed.
“Wow!” Melinda cried.
She kissed her husband again, then her father, and then Bruce and Connie and Jinks.
And by then the Crystal Lee had come alongside them again, and it was agreed that Roc’s boat was probably better equipped for the kind of celebration they had in mind for that evening. Jonathan’s boat was left at anchor, and even gnarled old Jinks came aboard the Crystal Lee.
Within seconds the rest of the crew heard the news about the claim—no matter what Eric had done. Soon a bottle of champagne had been popped open, and everyone was kissing everyone.
Then Roc said with a determined purpose that he and Melinda were going to shower and change. The others nodded and lifted their glasses to them.
Melinda thought her father’s eyes were sparkling, but she didn’t really get a chance to see for sure. Roc was propelling her to his cabin. In a minute the door was closed behind them, and just seconds after that she found herself in his arms.
Feeling his kiss. The wild heat of his breath. The fire of his body.
“My God!” he whispered. “I was so scared. So damn scared. I thought I’d really lost you.”
“You came for me!” she whispered. “Through sharks, through blood …”
He pulled away from her suddenly. “Does that mean you’ll stay married to me?”
She drew in her breath swiftly and nodded, beautiful eyes on his. “As long as it means you don’t intend to divorce me,” she said softly.
“Never,” he promised. “Like I said before,” he added huskily, “I’ve found my real treasure.”
“Oh, Roc,” she whispered as he swept her into his arms, carrying her to the bunk, “that really is beautiful.”
He smiled, stretching her out then lying down beside her and tugging away the strap of her bathing suit so he could place a searing, sensual kiss on her shoulder.
“You are more precious than any treasure in the sea,” he assured her. Then his lips found hers. When they broke away, he asked softly, “Forgive me?”
“Oh, God, yes!” she cried.
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“Then I have everything I could ever want!” he told her.
She wound her arms around him. Felt his kiss again. His touch. Erotic, sweet …
He stripped away her suit, and she shivered, trembled, wanted him.
After all, they had life. And they had each other. But …
“Roc, we told my father we’d be right out—”
He laughed huskily, cobalt eyes touching hers. “Your father isn’t expecting us any time soon.”
“But the rest of the crew—”
“Well, I imagine they’ll all think we’re making mad, passionate love in my cabin.”
“And—”
“And!” he said, placing a finger on her lips to still her words. “That’s exactly what we’re going to be doing.”
He lifted his finger. She smiled slowly.
“Anything to say?” he asked her.
“Umm,” she murmured.
“Well?”
“Let’s get to the mad, passionate part!” she told him, winding her arms around him.
He proceeded to do so.
Epilogue
“How beautiful!” Melinda cried softly, looking out across the white-tipped waves.
It was a rough day; storm clouds were threatening. There weren’t many people on the whale watch that had left from Plymouth Harbor that afternoon; the weather had steered them away. But it hadn’t seemed so awful to Roc and Melinda.
It had taken them months to rescue the Contessa’s treasures from the sea, and they had been good months. Melinda would always be eternally grateful for them. Her father had worked with them hand in hand, and there had been a bond forged between them that could never be broken now.
She was happy. She had never thought she could be so happy.
Yet no matter how well work had gone, Roc had been determined that they were going to take a trip away for their fifth anniversary. He was determined to really celebrate the event—even if they had been apart for three of their married years.
He had decided they were going to do something different, so they had left their customary warm climate to spend a few weeks in a cool New England fall.
Between Roc and a Hard Place Page 17