“Fine. Now empty the packs and you can leave.”
Veronica handed Lily to Simon, praying he could read her thoughts. Take him out. Picking up her pack, she tossed it to Garcia with a sudden force. “Catch.”
He caught it in midair.
In that instant, Simon whacked Garcia on the hand and the gun fell to the deck. Dropping to his knees, he grabbed the shell from the deck and loaded it with the speed and skill of someone who used a shotgun on an almost daily basis. He pointed the open end at Garcia and kicked the pistol away. “Drop the bag.”
Garcia let go and it hit the deck with a dull thud.
Veronica snatched it and stepped back to Simon’s side. She thought he might use Lily as a bludgeon, not that he would actually have had the time to load her.
She glanced around. So far, the crew was busy unloading the ship and hadn’t realized that Simon held their captain at gunpoint, but that could change in seconds. “Now what?” she asked. They were at a standoff. If they tried to leave, Garcia would call for help and they’d end up in a Turkish prison. If they put Lily down, they’d be robbed and end up in a Turkish prison.
If Simon shot the captain, it was prison and a firing squad.
None of the choices appeared promising.
“Now we jump,” Simon replied, backing toward the railing.
Veronica took a quick glance at the water below them. It looked impossibly far away.
But heights weren’t what frightened her. It was the water. Or more specifically, what lurked beneath the surface. “Let’s try the gangway,” she suggested.
“And have the crew stop us? No. Over the edge.”
Reluctantly, she hoisted herself to sit on the edge.
Keeping Lily trained on Garcia, Simon sat next to her.
A shout sounded from across the deck.
Apparently, the fact that their captain was being held at gunpoint had been noticed.
Veronica glanced downward, and once again, her stomach rolled to the same, sickly beat.
“Go,” Simon urged.
She swung her legs over. “I don’t know if I can.” But even as she held on to the railing with a death grip, she knew there was no choice. It was jump or die.
Her fingers refused to unclench.
The sound of pounding feet grew closer.
“Sure you can,” Simon replied as he put a firm hand on her lower back and shoved.
Chapter 10
Veronica held her legs together and took a deep breath right before she hit the water. Her right arm clutched the pack and jerked sideways at the impact, forcing her to let go before she dislocated her shoulder.
She extended her arms and legs as soon as she was below the surface, slowing her descent. It was a deep-water port, and there was little chance of hitting the bottom, but still, she preferred to not test that theory. Gazing up through the salty water, she saw Simon hit the surface and plunge past her a few feet before stopping.
Once they were below the surface, the sunlight’s refraction was no longer an issue, and she saw that he held his backpack, with the codex in it, and Lily clutched to his chest.
Still holding her breath, Veronica swam toward him and he pointed toward the surface. Her lungs were already burning and she nodded.
They rose in unison, breaking the surface at the same time, gasping for breath. “You okay?” Simon asked, flicking the hair from his eyes with a shake of his head
“Good. You?”
“Fine.”
“Lily?”
“Intact.”
Thank God.
“The codex?”
He unzipped his pack, peeked in and zipped it back up. “Dry, thanks to Tupperware.”
“Ms. Bright!”
Captain Garcia’s accented voice called her name. Veronica shadowed her eyes with her open palm and tried to find him through the glare, ready to dive. But something told her it would not be necessary.
Garcia laughed again as if he’d just accomplished a tremendous prank. “Enjoy your swim.” With a wave of dismissal, he was gone.
“Think he’ll pursue us?” Simon asked, treading water next to her.
“No. Not worth it as far as he knows.” Retrieving her backpack, she continued her swim for the dock and tried to focus on getting around the front of the ship without being tangled in any ropes or runaway netting.
But in the back of her head, there was only one thing that truly mattered now that she was in the water. Sharks.
She switched to a sidestroke, increased her pace and tried not to think about serrated white teeth biting her feet. Faster. Faster. Faster. It was a mantra in her head, helping her keep the pace.
Something tugged on her foot and she jerked away, splashing in the water, erratic and frightened as panic overrode everything else.
Gasping for breath, she flipped onto her back and kicked out, prepared to defend herself as best she could against an animal that had survived for millions of years.
There was only Simon.
She felt like an idiot. She stopped kicking. Of course it was Simon.
“What was that about?” he asked, coming up beside her.
Her heart still hammering in her chest, she scowled at him. “Nothing.”
She set back out for the dock. Great, he was going to think she was a big baby.
A few more strokes and he touched her shoulder. She stopped.
“You thought I was a shark, didn’t you?”
She glared at him through narrowed eyes, giving him the answer he needed.
“A shark?” He started laughing, sank a little way, swallowed water and came up coughing.
Veronica shook her head. Maybe he would drown. “You think that’s funny?” Not even Alyssa would laugh at her over something like this. But Simon wasn’t Alyssa.
“No, of course not,” Simon replied, trying to appear as serious as possible. He pressed his lips together, but his shoulders shook with barely contained laughter.
She’d never seen him actually laugh, and this, her fear, was what caused it? Disgusted, Veronica pushed him under the water and tried to hold him there.
He slipped away and came up laughing.
She tried to ignore him, knowing he wouldn’t understand. There wasn’t anything rational about her shark phobia. It just was. All she wanted to do was get out of the water as fast as possible. She didn’t mind swimming in the ocean when the water was clear and she could see the area, but the polluted waters of the docking area made visibility almost impossible. Once again, she swam for the dock.
“So, that’s your fear? Sharks.” His swim stroke was awkward, with one hand clenching Lily and the other his pack. “Where did that come from?”
Veronica shuddered in the warm water, wishing he would shut up. “I don’t know, but could we not talk about it while we’re actually in the water?”
She pictured a hammerhead going for her feet and drew them up before she could think to stop. Stupid, she chided herself. Forcing her legs to extend, she kept swimming and tried not to envision huge jaws wrapping themselves around her feet.
“Sure,” Simon replied, keeping pace with her.
They reached the cement edge of the pier, but it was more than five feet in height, and with no footing, it was impossible to reach the top. “There has to be a ladder,” Veronica muttered as they swam down the length of the wall.
“There,” Simon said.
Squinting into the sun, Veronica made out a long, dark shape on the wall fifty feet away.
She swam faster.
She reached the ladder and hurried herself up the rungs, water running off her clothes in rivulets.
Standing at the top, she stared down from the safety of land as he came up the ladder. She flipped her wet braid behind her. It was so tempting to push him in.
He arched his neck back to see her. His mouth was still stretched in an annoying grin even as he tried to climb with a pack in one hand and her shotgun in the other. “See any land sharks?”
She reached out. “Lily?”
He handed the wet shotgun to her. Metal never felt so good in her palm. Then, still smiling, she put her foot to Simon’s shoulder and shoved.
His eyes widened as he fell back and hit the water with a resounding splash. Bobbing to the surface, he sputtered. She leaned over the edge. “Shark!”
He raised a wet eyebrow, but she heard the amusement in his voice. “Very funny.” And he swam back to the ladder.
“Do you need any help, miss?”
Veronica turned. A young man dressed in a tunic and jeans watched them. He zeroed in on Lily, and his eyes widened.
Damn. “It’s not real,” she said. “It’s a prop.” She cringed. God help her, she was the worst liar in the world.
“Could you be more childish, Veron…” Simon cleared the dock wall, his voice dying when he saw the stranger standing next to Veronica.
The man’s eyes got even wider at seeing Simon emerge from the water.
Veronica wanted to groan. It wasn’t often one saw two Americans, soaked to the skin, and one carrying a shotgun, walking on the docks. Why not just hold up a sign that read, I’m Here Illegally!
Then again, she mused, it was Turkey.
“We had an argument. He lost,” she said, pointing at Simon.
The man scurried away.
“We better get out of sight,” Simon said, pouring the water from his backpack. “You’ve been here before. Can we get a cab to Nasim’s?”
“We can, but we’re already conspicuous enough. I don’t want to leave a trail to his house.”
“Fine. A hotel, then, but we need to do something,” Simon said. “We’re well past the trying-to-blend-in stage. I think it’s best we get off the street as soon as possible.”
She couldn’t argue. Their soggy clothes and Lily were attracting too much attention. She handed the shotgun to Simon. “Will she fit in your pack?”
He zippered Lily inside the wet material. The butt end of the weapon still stuck out, but it was better than carrying it in plain sight.
“Let’s go,” she said. Walking back to the main road, she held up her hand and a green car with the word Taxi written in six different languages pulled up to the curb.
“Grand Sun Hotel.” She slid over so Simon could sit next to her. The driver gave them a strange look but took off down the street at a breakneck pace.
She closed her eyes, letting the heat of the cab lull her.
In her mind, she didn’t see Garcia or sharks or the water or the cargo ship. She saw Simon picking up the shotgun shell and loading Lily with breathtaking speed.
There was so much more to him than he let on.
What was it going to take to make him tell her what she needed to know?
Not caring what Simon thought, Veronica tugged her wet shirt over her head as he shut the door to the room. She’d gone three days without a shower, and now she was salty on top of it. She ran a hand up her arm and sniffed the residue that ended up on her fingertips. Diesel fuel from ships. Yuck.
“Glad I don’t smoke,” she muttered as she shucked her pants off, leaving them in the middle of the room. She eyed them with distaste. She’d rather burn them than ever wear them again.
“Feeling a little uninhibited today?” Simon stared unabashedly at her half-naked body.
Standing in her French-cut panties and sports bra, she gave an unladylike snort, not even vaguely in the mood for anything other than quality time with a bar of soap. “Think of it as a bikini.” Walking past him, she flicked him on the chin. “Give me at least thirty minutes.”
He waved her on and flipped on the television.
Standing under the hot spray, Veronica groaned in ecstasy. She felt as grimy as the bottom of the ship they had leapt from, and the hot water was well worth the hassle at the front desk. With no ID, the manager hadn’t wanted to give them a room, but she’d pinched Simon’s arm and he slipped him an extra million lira. Even in Turkey, money spoke volumes.
She picked up the tiny complimentary bottle of shampoo, untied her braid and began soaping the long mass. Now all she had to do was contact Nasim and get the Eye before Michael did. If he didn’t already have it. She dismissed the thought almost as soon as it emerged. This team already had a realist in Simon. She needed to remain optimistic.
Thirty minutes later, she stepped out of the shower, feeling, once again, human. Wrapping the oversize towel around her body, she walked back into the room.
Simon was asleep on the floor, the Tupperware containing the codex clenched in his fist, his still-damp hair sticking out in every direction and his long legs stretched out.
She stood over him. With his long lashes and full lips, she’d say he looked “innocent” except for the scowl on his face.
She sniffed.
And the smell.
There was no way he was staying in the room smelling like that. She nudged him with her foot, and he bolted awake. “What!”
“Nothing,” she replied. “I’m out of the shower.”
Setting the codex next to him, he rubbed his eyes with both hands. “I was dreaming about sharks. They were after us, and you were trying to turn them to gold using the Midas Stone.”
“Interesting.” She sniffed again. “Now, please, go get clean while I call Nasim.”
Simon rolled to his feet. Like Veronica, he took his shirt off and let his pants fall to the floor.
It seemed he was a boxer-brief man. They clung to him like the Lycra shorts from the catacombs, but the red cotton material was much thinner and left almost nothing to the imagination.
“Feeling a little uninhibited?” Veronica asked, her mouth dry.
“Think of it as a bathing suit,” he replied, walking toward the shower, the snug cloth showing every flex of the muscles beneath.
He shut the door, and Veronica fell back onto the bed, put a pillow over her face and groaned. It wasn’t fair. Why couldn’t he be ugly? Fat? Covered with boils? Dumb as a post?
Something. Anything!
But no. She had to get the sexy archaeologist with secrets, and as much as she hated it, even that appealed to her. Not that she’d give in to her libido, but damn it, it wasn’t fair.
She yanked the pillow off her face and flung it to the floor in one swift step. One arm outstretched, she stared at the cracked ceiling. She remembered his answer when she asked him to explain. I’d tell you, but then I’d have to kill you. She shivered.
Until he explained that comment, he wasn’t to be trusted. At least not fully.
But even that would have to wait. She wanted to leave the hotel as soon as possible and that meant contacting Nasim. Once that was in progress, maybe she’d have the time to press Simon for some answers.
She couldn’t wait to hear them.
Sneaking out of the hotel was easy. Getting a cab proved to be harder. Not that anyone was following them, but paranoia was as good a defense as anything else, and the last thing she wanted to do was leave a trail to Nasim’s home.
They caught a cab almost a mile from the hotel, and in thirty minutes they were dropped off in front of the two-story, wooden house that Nasim and his wife called home.
“You’re sure he can be trusted?” Simon asked as Veronica knocked on the door.
“Absolutely,” she said without pause. “He worked for my parents for years. His wife practically raised me, especially since her own children had already left home.”
The blue-painted door swung open to reveal an older woman with white hair, olive skin and eyes as green as a cat’s. Iamar was still beautiful, Veronica noted, remembering her as she first saw her. Her skin was smoother then and her black hair shot with only a few strands of white.
But even with the absence of youth, she was still stunning in her beauty.
“Veronica!” she cried, moving forward with the grace of a dancer. “We were not expecting you. Why did you not tell us you were coming?”
She kissed Veronica on the cheek, and Veronica wrapped her arms around her s
houlders, hugging her. “It is good to see you, too, Iamar.” She stepped back. “You have not aged a day.”
Iamar put her hand to a wrinkled cheek. “A few more wrinkles, perhaps, but they are worth it. You should meet the grandchildren. They make having children worth the trouble.”
Iamar loved her children and grandchildren fiercely. She might make the occasional complaint, but woe to the person who did the same. She’d once watched her give an archaeologist a tongue-lashing worthy of a fishwife for telling her to keep her brats under control.
“Who is this gentleman?” Iamar asked, turning to Simon.
Veronica stepped aside. “This is my partner, Simon Owens.”
“Another archaeologist?” she asked, curious.
“Of course.”
She cupped Simon’s hand in hers. “And a handsome one, as well. Much better-looking than Michael.”
“Uh, thanks,” Simon replied.
Heat bloomed on Veronica’s cheeks. Iamar was never known for keeping her opinions to herself. A trait Veronica both loved and dreaded. “Uh…yes. Anyway, can we come in? I’m trying to keep a low profile.”
“Of course. Of course.” She ushered them through the doorway. “Nasim is in the study.”
Veronica followed Iamar down the familiar hallway. Not much had changed since her last visit. A new tapestry decorated the wall, and as she passed the kitchen, she saw it was painted a bright blue.
Iamar loved bright colors. Sparkle. Glitter. The swish of silk. The texture of satin. She was like a flower in bloom.
Nasim was more like the stem of the flower. Pale in comparison, but strong, sturdy. He dressed in greens, dark browns, or a pale yellow cotton if he was feeling wild.
If Nasim had his choice, the house would be brown and beige, but as usual, when it came to matters of the home, Iamar won out. Veronica ran her hand along the back of a vivid red silk chair as they passed through the living room and into the study—the one room where Nasim reigned.
Decorated in dark wood and white, it was a study in contrasts. Bookshelves lined the wall, and she noticed his archaeological kit sitting on a small table next to the door.
The Midas Trap Page 15