Her Passionate Protector

by Laurey Bright

  Then a large black shape erupted toward him and another came around the side of the house.

  He lunged at the nearer one, collided with a thud, grabbed the man and got a stranglehold on his throat, but the second man was on him and a hard blow to the side of his head set his ears ringing, another one forcing him to let go. He rounded on his assailant and threw a couple of punches that were returned in kind, then the first intruder lifted his foot and kicked out. The boot landed fair and square in Brodie's stomach, making him gasp hoarsely and double over.

  Whoever they were, they seemed more intent on escaping than beating him up, and by the time he got his breath back, they were long gone.

  Disgusted with himself, he stumbled up the steps and unlocked the door, slamming it shut behind him. Damn, he must be getting soft. Time was when he'd have had those two on the ground, no sweat.

  A quick inspection showed no forced locks or broken windows. Maybe the intruders had expected him to stay away longer. Or perhaps they were just opportunists who'd noticed a darkened house and decided to try their luck. Whatever, they didn't seem to have actually gotten inside.

  He phoned the police number and the system rerouted him to someone miles away in Whangarei who promised to pass on a message. Mokohina's sole representative of the law was probably already out on a call.

  Brodie put down the receiver and rubbed at a swelling on his cheek. He could taste blood where a tooth had cut into the inside of his lip. His head hurt too, with a thumping ache.

  It was years since he'd been in a scrap like that. Rogue would have something to say about him letting them walk all over him.

  Rogue… Could this have anything to do with Pacific Treasure Salvors and the Maiden's Prayer? Wasn't it too much of a coincidence on top of the theft of the artifacts from Sienna's lab and the burglary of her car?

  She'd been here tonight. Did someone imagine she might have left something with Brodie that was worth stealing?

  A clutch of anxiety wrenched his innards. He picked up the phone again and dialed the number of the hotel, asking to be put through to Sienna's room.

  She answered, sounding surprised, and he said without preamble, "Is there a chain or bolt on your door?"

  There was a pause before she said, "Yes, but—"

  "Make sure it's on."

  "I will when—"

  "Do it," he snapped. "Now!"

  "Brodie—"

  "Now! Don't argue."

  He must have got through to her. The next instant the phone banged down on something hard and there was silence for two seconds. Then she picked up the receiver again. "All right, it's done. What's this all about?"

  "And don't sleep with your window open," he said. "I just got jumped by a couple of heavies—"

  "Where?" she asked quickly. "Are you all right?"

  "Yeah, I'm okay." He shouldn't be pleased that she sounded shocked and worried. "In my own front yard," he continued, answering her questions in reverse order.

  "Did you call the police?"

  "Yeah, yeah. It's you I'm worried about."

  "Me? I'm not the one who's been mugged!"

  "You were here tonight, and you've had two burglaries so far."

  There was silence, and he wondered if she was scared. He wanted her to be scared. Enough to take care, but heck, he didn't want to freak her out. "It's just a precaution," he said soothingly. "In case there's any connection."

  Another two seconds ticked by. "Someone tried to snatch my bag today," she said.

  "What? When?" He had to fight down something uncomfortably akin to panic. "Why didn't you tell me this before?"

  "It didn't seem that important. He didn't get it—I kicked him and he ran off. He was just a kid, really. A teenager."

  "You fought him off?" She didn't have red hair for nothing, apparently. Well, almost red.

  "You needn't sound so surprised. I'm not helpless."

  Obviously not. For a second he enjoyed the picture of her downing a mugger. Where had she kicked him? The place it hurt most, he hoped. "Did you tell the local cop?"

  "No, I mean to though."

  "This can't all be down to chance," he said.

  "They do say things come in threes."

  "James Drummond—he's holed up somewhere…"

  "Not in Mokohina, surely!"

  "No, he's too well known here, but he's probably still in contact with people who can do his dirty work for him. Maybe he's masterminding all this."

  "Whoever burgled the lab has already got the artifacts that came from the wreck. What else could they want? And why attack you?"

  "I don't know. But for God's sake don't open your door to anyone you don't know. We're sailing tomorrow. I'll come over and take you to the cop-shop first, then the Sea-Rogue. Don't move from the hotel until I get there."

  She argued but next morning he was at her door first thing, accompanying her down to breakfast in the dining room before they reported the attempted bag-snatch.

  When the constable had taken the details, Brodie said, "It's not the first time something like this has happened. Her car was burgled in Hamilton, and before that some stuff was taken from her place of work. Tell him, Sienna."

  The constable looked thoughtful. "Some people do seem to have a rash of unrelated incidents, but … you're on the Sea-Rogue team?"

  "I will be from today."

  "Hmm." The policeman tapped a pen against his teeth.

  "I'll pass this on to Whangarei, and what's this about an incident at your house, Brodie?"

  Brodie said, "After Sienna visited." He described the "incident," then asked, "There's been no sign of Drummond since he skipped bail?"

  Frowning, the constable shook his head. "Pity the judge didn't remand him in prison. Confiscating his passport and freezing his assets is all very well, but my guess is he's left the country anyway."

  When the constable had finished writing his report, Brodie lingered and the policeman said, "Anything else?"

  Brodie pushed back a stray lock of hair from his forehead. "What's the story about murder at sea?"

  The constable sat back. "If you mean the deckhand James Drummond's man allegedly murdered—"

  "No, this is something different. Nothing to do with Drummond, as far as I know."

  "What are we talking about?"

  "Well, we found this skeleton."

  "Where exactly?"

  "Um … out in the Pacific. International waters."

  "That complicates things for a start." The man looked pained. "How old was it? And why do you think this … person was murdered?"

  "Maybe the bullet that was still inside the skull?"

  The constable's expression didn't change. "That would be a clue. Bullets can be identified. Is it still there?"

  Brodie shoved his hands in his pockets and briefly looked at his feet. "I … um … removed it. And then I dropped it. I've no idea how old the bones are. I'm no expert."

  "You dropped it? Where?"

  "In the water, when we were surfacing. I was putting on my glove, meaning to tuck the bullet inside, but—" he shrugged "—my dive time was up, and I was trying to hang on to a line and put the glove back on at the same time. I lost my grip on the bullet—it was only small—and the damn thing went to the bottom. We couldn't stay down any longer and … well, it's gone."

  The constable rubbed a hand over his cheek, grimacing. "Could you find it again?"

  "The bullet? I doubt it. The bones, maybe. But they could have been swept away by now, or taken off by sharks—though there wasn't any flesh left to interest them."

  Sienna's own flesh crawled at the picture he'd drawn.

  The policeman said, "There's no evidence of a crime, in other words. Unless you can find the skeleton and bring it back for the forensics guys. It's probably ancient. Do you want to formally report this?"

  Obviously he wasn't advising it.

  Brodie shook his head. "Forget it. I just kinda thought maybe we should mention it." He deduced the cop thought
the department, notoriously short-staffed as it was, had enough work on hand without chasing after some vague story of a probably historical and unprovable crime way beyond their actual jurisdiction.

  Outside, on their way back to the Imperial to collect Sienna's things, she said, "It bothered you, finding a skeleton."

  "Nah, I've seen others. But since it wasn't an accidental death and we were there at the station…" He shrugged. "Well, the cops aren't interested. And Rogue wouldn't want them sniffing around where we're trying to work anyway."

  He took Sienna's bags and her new equipment on board the Sea-Rogue, then they drove to his house where he opened up the garage for her to park her car.

  They walked down to the Sea-Rogue together and settled into their respective compact cabins before Brodie helped Rogan to cast off. After clearing the harbor entrance, the Sea-Rogue emerged into a choppy sea under a blue sky hung with billowing white clouds, and Rogan cut the engine.

  Sienna dodged out of the way as the men attended to the sails. Soon the boat was on automatic pilot and skimming over the waves, heading north.

  Camille made sandwiches and brought them up on deck.

  She sat close to her husband under an awning that shaded the cockpit, and Brodie moved along the seat opposite, tacitly inviting Sienna to sit beside him. He rested his arm on the coaming behind her, not touching her. She found it unsettling, but tried not to show she was conscious of his every breath, every slight movement. That she wanted to lean back against him and feel his arm curve around her.

  Afterward Sienna helped Camille clean up in the galley, getting accustomed to the roll and sway of the boat.

  "You don't get seasick?" Camille inquired.

  "I'm taking pills." They made her feel a bit spaced out, but she knew that in a day or two she wouldn't need them. "Are we supposed to do the meals because we're the only women on board?"

  Camille said, "I'm supposed to do them because I volunteered. You don't need to."

  "Sorry." Sienna gave her friend a sideways smile. "I don't mind helping."

  "Thanks. I expect everyone will help if I need it. But when we're on site the men will be doing most of the physical work—I'm not qualified for helmet diving, and they are. So I said I'd cook. And maybe I can help you catalog artifacts or something if you tell me what to do."

  In the days that followed, life on board soon settled into a rhythm in tune with the sea and the sailing of the boat. Whenever they sat in the cockpit together they took the same places, and each time Brodie stretched out his arm behind her, Sienna experienced the same renewed awareness, as if some kind of invisible charge spanned the small space from his arm to the sensitive skin at the back of her neck. All she could do was try to ignore it and hope devoutly that he wasn't picking up on her feelings. Sometimes she caught him looking at her as if trying to work something out that puzzled him. And occasionally she surprised a gleam in his eye that made her breath catch before he quickly looked away, leaving her wondering if she'd imagined it.

  Everyone took turns to keep watch for other shipping and hazards like floating logs or lost cargo containers, as the boat forged across water that changed from green to blue to inky. Schools of fish flashed by in silver streams, and pods of sleek dolphins leaped in graceful unison from the water, arching back into it and playing in the boat's white wake. Once, as Sienna was scanning the horizon just before sunset, a whale spouted in the distance.

  Just over a week after they'd left Mokohina, in the dark of the early hours, she pulled on jeans and a jersey to go on deck for her turn to stand watch.

  Brodie was wedged into a corner, a black, bulky shape.

  "Good morning." Sienna sat down, folding her arms against the chill. "You can go and get some sleep now."

  "Not sleepy," he said. "And it's a great morning."

  The sea was like black glass, a line of light just beginning to show on the horizon. Stars still shone overhead, but gradually they faded as the morning glow overtook them. Dimly she could see Brodie's face in the gloom.

  He shifted his feet, crossed one ankle over the other and tipped his head back. "Sometimes I wonder why I ever decided to become a landlubber, even part-time."

  "Don't you have the best of both worlds?"

  He lowered his head to look at her. "Yeah. I can take off whenever I want and go sailing, diving, but the shop and the house are always there. One day…" His voice trailed off and he looked away, toward the horizon. The water hissed at the Sea-Rogue's hull, and the sails moved as if breathing in the ghostly morning light.

  One day, she guessed, his restless spirit might lead him to abandon things that tied him to the shore and resume roving like Rogan, whose only home was the boat. "The sea isn't always as peaceful as this," she reminded him.

  Brodie laughed. "Don't I know! It can be wild and unpredictable. That's one of the things I love about it. You never know what to expect. And underneath that calm surface it holds so many secrets, so much to discover and explore. It's beautiful and mysterious and once you penetrate its depths, it casts a spell that never lets you go."

  The light was growing stronger, throwing his face into relief, and even though his eyes were shadowed, she could feel the intensity of his gaze.

  "That's why you became a professional diver?" she asked him. "Because the sea cast a spell over you?"

  He gave a soft laugh. "You could say that"

  "Rogan told me you both entered dive school when you were teenagers. Did you always want to be a diver?"

  "I knew I wanted to do something on the sea—or in it. If I'd known how hard it could be…" He laughed softly, shaking his head.

  "But you don't regret it?"

  "Never. Once I was far enough along to realize what I was getting into I was hooked on the life. Learning the trade's a tough, relentless testing ground, not for weaklings or waverers, and the survivors have proved they're the real thing—sea people. The ocean weeds out anyone who can't hack it, throws them back to shore where they belong. I like the dive shop, dealing with people who feel the same way I do about the sea, but sometimes I need to be out there again. Underwater—" his voice changed to a deeper, slower note "—where there's a peace like nothing on earth that gets right inside you."

  Sienna too had experienced that, had been able to forget for a time all the emotional traps that had her constantly on guard, pretend the other world on dry land didn't exist.

  A diver was weightless, floating, and there was a feeling of being suspended in a calm inner space, of time stilled. Although beneath the sea there were hidden currents, and noise too—fish made little popping noises, coral creaked and crackled, and there was always the reassuring sound of the regulator providing air for the alien human who dared enter that secret kingdom.

  The crack of light on the edge of the ocean widened and blazed orange, heralding the return of the sun. Already she could see the faint stubble on Brodie's chin and cheeks, and the sunrise reflected in his eyes as he watched the light catch her hair. Deliberately she looked away, afraid of the insistent, relentless tug of attraction that signaled danger.

  "Diving," Brodie said, "was something I took to from my first time. Making a living at it seemed like a job made in heaven." He paused, then asked, "What made you decide to be an archaeologist?"

  Disconcerted at the question, although she supposed she should have expected it, Sienna didn't answer immediately. "I suppose," she said, "it sort of grew on me. When I was ten I read a book about the pyramids and was fascinated. At high school I had a history teacher who spent her holidays working on digs in New Zealand, and by the time I entered university I knew what I wanted to do. Resurrect the past and preserve it."

  "Uh-huh," Brodie said, nodding.

  Something in his tone made her ask, "You have a problem with that?"

  "Nope. I was just … thinking."

  "About what?" Sienna asked involuntarily.

  "What makes a girl like you want to live in the past?"

  "I don't live in it! I
study it." Even as she defended herself, she wondered if in a way he was right. It was soon after her parents' marriage broke up that she'd decided to make archaeology her career. Maybe deep down the desire to go back in time had something to do with it.