Stormchaser

by Cherry Adair

  “Not at all.” Her voice was cool, her peridot eyes hot as she said sweetly, “I slept like a baby. I want to talk to Miguel as soon as possible, see exactly what he has for us. And I already know that we need to get back to the island to take more pictures, and get the documents if possible. Although I doubt our request will be considered if what Miguel and I think is true, is true. If the old men are—what? Priests? Caretakers? Will they let us come back and do some more reading, do you think?”

  “I guess we’ll find out. Here.” He handed her the plain gold band he’d stepped on when he’d gone to get dressed.

  “Thanks.” Callie took it from him, then stuck it in the front pocket of her shorts as they walked.

  “You’re going to tell the others?”

  “It’s time, I think.”

  They got to the top of the stairs, and Jonah leaned in and kissed her. It was quick and sweet, and her lips clung to his for a moment before she gave him a cautionary look and continued upstairs.

  “And if the old men are some kind of island caretakers,” she said as they walked across the salon side by side, “what are Spanos and his sister doing there? I doubt they’re taking care of the land. Not in those shoes.”

  Turning, she waved at Saul, who waited for them near the sliders. “Morning.”

  “They don’t exactly fit the profile.”

  “Profile of what?” Saul slid open the doors and preceded them out to the deck.

  The day was already hot but still hazy, the water a little choppy. The short, shallow waves, white-tipped and active, musically splashed the hull. Somewhere out of sight, a crew member was painting the railings, and the pleasant, clean smell of paint mixed with that of the sea, and the rich aroma of freshly ground coffee.

  And under it all: the erotic scent of coconut.

  Callie pulled out her chair and sat down. “The Spanos siblings don’t fit with the old guys on the island.”

  “I don’t know which one I find creepier,” Saul admitted. “Him or his sister. She’s a barracuda, and that’s insulting all barracudas.”

  Agyros was setting the table, as Randy, the second steward, laid out fruit, coffee, and pastries. Jonah was a proponent of excellent food on board. He’d paid a premium for Chef Tina Hamilton, swiping her from a ritzy restaurant in Portland and including her in the bonus program. Everyone was happy with the arrangement. Feeding his divers and crew well made the long days on board without shore leave bearable. A happy crew was a productive crew. He’d learned that from his brother Nick.

  The pale, cloudless sky indicated it would get even hotter later in the day. Jonah was eager to get under the water. Or go back to bed. He met Callie’s eyes as he sat down, and saw the same heat he felt.

  “She’s an odd one all right.” She drank half her orange juice then held the glass to her chin. “I don’t mean because she’s so blatant. Although, yeah. That, too. I also find it peculiar that for a woman whose family is in the cosmetics business, she trowels on her makeup like a sixteen-year-old going to a rave. On an island where the only men are eighty years old? That’s incongruous to say the least.”

  Their eyes met across the table as if magnetized. She narrowed hers in warning, which made him smile as he poured straw-smelling green tea into her cup, then fragrant coffee into his favorite mug.

  He wasn’t sure what the hell to make of the Spanoses, nor the old men. The old guys seemed harmless, while Spanos and his sister clearly had another agenda. Spanos seemed like an okay guy, and his sister was oversexed. But did that make any of them dangerous?

  As long as everyone on Fire Island kept out of his way, he didn’t give a flying fuck what their agendas were.

  Jonah was dying to call his brothers and tell them about his discovery, but those calls had to wait until he had something concrete to report. Still, he felt as anticipatory as when he’d been a kid waiting for his father to come home from a distant salvage. Or, as reality showed, back to Spain from his other family in the Caribbean.

  Another man might resent that reality, but Jonah felt nothing but love for his father, and gratitude that he now had three brothers he considered friends. He was a lucky guy, and never forgot it.

  And now Callie …

  Jonah requested an enormous breakfast, Callie decided on fruit and her tea, and Saul said he had to wake up before he put anything in his mouth. Jonah shot Callie a wicked look, which she pointedly ignored.

  “I’m dying to hear what Miguel has to tell us.” She sounded both excited and her usual controlled self. Typical Callie.

  Damn she was sexy as hell, with her flushed cheeks and full mouth slightly swollen from hours of his kisses. He appreciated her supreme efforts to keep things nonchalant. Casual. He skimmed a glance to Saul, wondering if he bought it. Of course, Saul had his own romantic interest to pursue.

  “I’m going to try him before I eat.” She licked a drop of OJ off the tip of her thumb. “Would you like me to put him on speaker?”

  Attention fixated on her mouth, Jonah muttered, “What?”

  Lifting her hip, she took her phone out of the back pocket of her shorts. “I’m calling Miguel.”

  “Put him it on speaker.”

  Callie’s cheeks turned a dusky rose, as if she could clearly read his thoughts. She gave him a stern look, which made his dick stand at attention.

  Leaning back in the comfortable seat, he rested an arm over the empty chair beside him, crossing an ankle over the opposite knee. He could look at her all day. Hardly productive, but a man had to do what a man had to do.

  “Hola, mi amigo,” she said in greeting, her Spanish as excellent as her Greek. Jonah wanted to get her back in bed and speak his native Spanish to her, to whisper hot words in her ear knowing she’d understand every nuance.

  He was obsessed.

  He left it to Callie to explain her marital situation to the others. But that explanation better come soon. While they’d try to keep their intimacy discreet, the ship was too small to keep the relationship a secret. And he sure as shit didn’t want anyone thinking he’d fool around with a married woman.

  Callie’s soft laughter made an ache form in the pit of his belly. How much of a friend was this Dr. Miguel Ebert? Crap. Was he jealous?

  She switched to English. “Is it okay to put you on speaker so the others can hear you?”

  “Certainly. But Calista—” The man lapsed into rapid-fire Spanish, his excitement evident. The hair on the back of Jonah’s neck came to attention, and he leaned forward in his seat as he caught snippets of Dr. Ebert’s monologue.

  Fire Island. Guardians. Atlantis …

  Callie shrugged and mouthed Sorry, then took her phone off speaker as the others arrived and pulled out chairs. While she talked, they ordered breakfast, poured coffee, and popped bread in the conveniently placed toaster.

  Jonah indicated Callie and the phone. “Dr. Miguel Ebert.”

  Vaughn shot a smile in her direction, though she didn’t see it. “Ah. Good news apparently.”

  Breakfast was served and eaten by everyone while Callie’s tea went cold, and her sliced fruit lay untouched. She listened to her friend with mounting excitement. So excited, she got up and started pacing as she talked.

  Jonah grinned, enjoying the flash of her long legs and the expressive, very Mediterranean way she gestured as she talked. A warm breeze played with fine strands of dark hair, teasing them around her face. She brushed them away impatiently, her entire focus on the conversation. Jonah bet she was completely oblivious to the others seated at the table watching her. Of the sound of the lapping water, or the clouds scudding across the sun.

  He spoke the language of his mother fluently, and he loved listening to the musical notes coming from Callie. She spoke beautiful, colloquial Spanish like a native. He preferred listening to the sound of her voice rather than the one-sided, clearly thrilling conversation.

  “We only got sixty some images,” he murmured to the others as he poured a third cup of coffee, then reached
over to take Callie’s filled cup. Dumping it in a nearby empty bowl, he refilled it with hot tea as soon as he heard her winding down.

  He grinned when she started asking questions instead of saying goodbye. He gestured. “Like an Italian opera.”

  “This is the guy she sent the images from the books, right?” Leslie asked, pushing her chair away from the table so she could put her crossed ankles on the chair beside Jonah. Odd that from the first Jonah hadn’t felt an iota of sexual attraction to his diver. She was attractive, exactly the kind of woman he enjoyed. Tall, athletic, blond—not a spark.

  He looked back at Callie. More than a spark. A fucking volcano.

  Just then she glanced up. Her pupils dilated, and a pulse throbbed at her temple as her eyes locked with his as she returned to the table. “Sí, gracias, Miguel.”

  Resuming her seat, she placed the phone on the table. “‘Groundbreaking’ is what Dr. Ebert says,” she said, addressing everyone. “Miguel believes the pages from the books we photographed were copied from fragments of ancient papyri. Similar to Papyri Graecae Magicae.”

  “Similar? Or copies of the original?” Vaughn asked, leaning his elbows on the table to see around Saul. “Wasn’t the PGM an entire body of papyri with hundreds of pages of spells?”

  “It was, but Miguel doesn’t believe what we have is from the PGM. This is something different, and even more ancient. I’ve known him for ten years, and never heard him this excited by his findings.”

  “Good God, woman, don’t keep us in suspense, what do we have?” Intrigued by her excitement, Jonah had only heard her side of the convo, not enough to piece together all the ¡Oh, mi Dios! and ¿Está absolutamente seguro? even though he understood the sporadic rapid-fire Spanish insertions on her end.

  “The writings are arcane. And yes, this is a book of spells and mystical secrets,” she answered Vaughn. “Compilations of spells and magical writings. Miguel says it was incredibly difficult and slow going to decipher the texts we sent. It’s written in a mixture of Attic, Ionic Greek, and even some Doric forms. The same word appeared in several forms throughout, as if the writer wanted make sure everyone understood what he was telling them, no matter what language they read.”

  “I’m not sure I understand what that means.” Leslie rested her folded arms on the table, and Saul moved her plate aside to give her more room.

  “He was able to piece together context and intent from the formulaic words and phrases, which were, interestingly, similar to the ones found in defixiones—”

  Brody frowned. “De-what?”

  “Curse tablets. Binding spells. Magic recipes.” She glanced around the table. “He thinks the copies were painstakingly transcribed from the original lead tablet forms. Circa sixth century BCE. The letters were incredibly hard to re—never mind, those were his findings from the images I managed to get. And while those are groundbreaking and undeniably fascinating, they aren’t the entire point. It’s what was in the pages from the book Jonah captured that had something even more fascinating and certainly even more intriguing to show us.”

  It was a little disconcerting to see the same avaricious, excited look on her face for some magical papyri as she’d exhibited an hour ago while they’d made love.

  “Hurry, woman.” Jonah dropped his feet to the deck, resting his forearms on the table. “I hope you tell us what it is sooner than later. The suspense is killing us.”

  Eyes shining, she smiled. “The pages you photographed talk of a powerful port city on the coast of a small volcanic island. The city built on concentric rings—”

  “No shit?” Saul said. “Are you saying what I think you’re saying?”

  Jonah’s heart leapt to his throat. Conclusive evidence. Proof that his city was the city. Atlantis.

  Thirteen

  “Let’s not assume anything,” Callie said drily, but it was evident just how excited she was. She practically vibrated with excitement. Jonah was familiar with those vibrations from the inside.

  “The volcano was clearly active at the time of the writings. They say that the people believed it would stay quiet if they made sacrifices and offerings to the gods.”

  She picked up a sliced strawberry, then merely held it between her fingers as she spoke. “Ships from all over their world traded goods and services there. The city became corrupt with all the wealth and power. The gods were displeased, and to punish them spewed fire and flaming rain, shearing the city from the island, plunging it into the sea. The people tried to flee. Many did, but most perished in the ‘red tide.’ The epicenter of trade and commerce vanished overnight.”

  “It isn’t an epicenter now, if Fire Island is what the texts refer to.” Saul thumbed behind him where Fire Island lay, a vague green-brown smudge in the far distance. “Odd that such a small dot in the Med would be so bustling in ancient times, when Crete is just a hop, skip, and a jump away and much larger.”

  “Miguel was emphatic that the island referred to was Fire Island, and that it’s been protected by Guardians for thousands of years. The honor was passed down from father to son for centuries.”

  “The old men are descendants of the Guardians?” Jonah mused, not altogether convinced about that part of Callie’s summary. “Maybe centuries ago, maybe. But now? What’s to protect on the island? A herd of sheep, an extinct volcano, and some scrub brush?”

  “Flock. And maybe … What if…?” Callie seemed to gather her thoughts. “What if the Ji Li really did land on top of Atlantis? What if those old men are protecting not Fire Island, but the city even now?”

  What if I really, really want to take you to bed again? Jonah thought, stunned that getting Callie naked again was of far more immediate importance than a city he’d spent six months researching and documenting. No, maybe not true, but his physical need for her was as addictive as a drug, and he could satisfy the craving for her now. Atlantis would be there in an hour.

  Saul raised a brow, then addressed Callie directly. “You’re the authority who stated emphatically that no such place existed, aren’t you? Are you really saying you believe we’ve found Atlantis?”

  This was exactly the reason Jonah had snatched her from beneath Rydell Case’s nose. When Case heard about this, as he most assuredly would, Jonah and his brothers would enjoy one-upping their nemesis. Hiring Callie was one of the best business decisions he’d ever made. Case should’ve upped the ante and paid her what she was worth. His loss.

  Poker-faced, but far from casual, Callie shrugged. “I’m a scientist. I only believe what I see with my own eyes, and things that are confirmed twenty-seven times from Sunday. All of this new information, plus what we’ve already seen for ourselves, gives it a layer of credibility, yes.

  “Fact: There is a city down there. Fact: The buildings and structures look to be from the correct time period; they have the markings and landmarks we’ve read about in various writings through the ages. Fact: The writing Jonah and I found on Fire Island seems to substantiate our findings according to another high-level authority on ancient texts.

  “Are they making reference to what we believe is Atlantis? Were they written thousands of years ago?” She shrugged. “I have no idea. And yes, I have convincingly documented my disbelief that a real city called Atlantis ever existed anywhere other than as a myth or parable. But now…? We have fragments of ancient text that talk of circular canals, and enormous temples—”

  Her gaze met Saul’s. “Yes, I think we very well might be sitting right over Atlantis, and those old men are here to make sure no one tampers with it.”

  “I think you’re all taking these Guardians a little too seriously. They haven’t done anything to prevent us from diving. Don’t you think if something as significant as Atlantis was down there, they’d be doing more to get us out of here?” Leslie pointed out, holding out her mug for a refill. “Thanks, Randy. They can’t be too worried.”

  Vaughn grabbed a homemade doughnut, broke it in half, and held it near his mouth as he said, “Maybe the
y don’t think we’ve gotten close enough.” He took a bite, powdering his T-shirt with white sugar.

  “How much closer could we be?” Jonah pointed out, enjoying the hell out of the debate. “We’re anchored right over it. Maybe they don’t perceive us as a threat?”

  “You’re not saying that you believe in magic, are you?” Callie’s smile made Jonah realize that she had the power to change the physiology of his every cell until it felt as though he had effervescence in his veins.

  “I don’t. But it’s clear, even from the small section of pages we have, that the people on Fire Island did. Or perhaps still do.”

  “I’m not exactly worried by a bunch of ancient men who use even more ancient donkeys as their only mode of transportation,” Vaughn said around a mouthful of doughnut. “That island is about as primitive as it can get. Shit. They didn’t come brandishing Uzis when they came on board the other day. How are they capable of protecting anything?”

  “Hey, I want to believe that’s Atlantis down there,” Leslie added. “I really do. And maybe it is. But I’m not sure I buy that those old guys are protecting it. Protecting it from what, exactly? Everyone who lived there is long, long, looong gone. The city is already a hundred and fifty feet under the ocean; what else can happen to it?”

  “Good point.” Jonah pushed away from the table. “But instead of sitting here debating, why don’t we suit up and go down and see what we can find to prove or disprove the writings?”

  Vaughn rose, too. “I’m taking a crack at getting through that door. Anyone want to join me?”

  More so now than for the months prior to this salvage, Jonah knew it with every fiber of his being: His city was Atlantis.

  * * *

  Jonah, Brody, and Vaughn gathered equipment to take with them. A lot of equipment. Men and their toys. Callie and Leslie shared a grin. Acetylene cutting torches, crowbars, and assorted heavy-duty salvage equipment raised the testosterone 150 percent.