“Bella, you need to wake up. We’re having an all-hands meeting in the conference room in half an hour.” He set her coffee down on the nightstand, and she shifted slightly beneath the sheets toward the scent.
“Half an hour,” the mumbled words came from under the pillow. “That’s not even time for me to get my eyes open.”
He pulled the pillow off her head and grasped the edge of the sheet. “Well, open or not, dressed or not, you need to be at the meeting in half an hour.” He slowly pulled at the sheet and Bella fisted her hands around it in a death grip.
“I’m getting up. Don’t make me cold as well.”
He chuckled. “Your coffee is on the nightstand.”
“Thank you,” she said.
“Don’t make me come get you.”
She muttered a few choice words and sat up, brushing the tangle of hair back with her fingers. The sheet dropped to her waist, exposing the rosy tips of her breasts. He resisted the urge to tackle her back to the mattress and feast on those fabulous breasts.
He swallowed hard. “I’d wear more than the sheet.”
She chucked the other pillow on the bed at him, and it hit the door with a soft thud as he left the cabin.
Half an hour later Bella showed up to the conference room, looking practically perfect. Her glossy dark hair was scooped up into a ponytail that skimmed the tops of her shoulder blades, and her freshly washed face looked soft, her lashes still dark with moisture. She had a glow about her that could only be described as radiant.
He held his breath for a second, trying to slow down the sudden kick in his chest and instant pressure in his groin. He’d seen her naked in bed. Why the hell did seeing her in a tank top and cut-off jean shorts seem just as erotic? He could get addicted to this, to seeing her every morning.
Tuck tore his gaze off of her and cleared his throat, making an effort to look anywhere in the room besides at her.
“As some of you know, we’ve been tracking the movements of Tropical Storm Henri. As of six hours ago, it strengthened into a hurricane and is headed for the south edge of the Gulf.”
“Why don’t we head back to port?” Bella asked. A few members of the crew nodded in agreement.
“First, there’s not enough time for us to tag the wreck and make it back to port. Second, you don’t want to be in port when a hurricane hits. Last thing we need is a vessel torn up and stranded on land.” Some of the experienced crew mumbled agreements under their breath and glanced at one another.
“You’re telling me it’s safer out here in open water? I think the crew of the Rapid would beg to differ. Don’t hurricanes sink ships?” Bella asked.
He had to look at her, to focus on her, and get her to understand. This wasn’t his first storm and, luck willing, wouldn’t be his last. “Trust me. We’d do better out here, especially if it tracks on the predicted course and runs south of here and into Mexico.”
Toneau spoke up as well. “What about nonessential crew? You want me to call out the helicopter and get them evacuated? We could get them back to shore before the storm rolls in.”
He knew Toneau was thinking of Bella, but there were at least four to six other crew that didn’t need to be there to ride out the storm. He doubted Bella would go willingly, but she might go with a group. “Yeah, get them on the phone and arrange pickups.”
“Aye, Cap.” Toneau slugged down the last of his coffee, got up, and headed for the bridge.
“How far out is the storm?” Andre asked.
“Williams, you want to fill us in?” There was no point in relaying information that could come directly from the source. Williams had been monitoring the situation closely all night.
“The storm is anywhere from four to ten hours out from us and moving fast. Right now it’s hovering between a category two and three but getting stronger. Tracking to just south of Cuba and scheduled to make landfall on the gulf coast of Mexico in about twelve hours.”
Tuck took over. “We need to get the ship ready for the storm, and we’ll be sending down the ROV to tag the wreck with floats and a transponder. That way we’ll have a better chance of locating it if the storm surge moves it. ”
“Isn’t that cutting things a bit close?” Bella asked.
“All the better reason to get moving. You have a half hour to get the ROV, floats, and transponder ready to go. I want this wrapped up in less than two hours.”
She waited until the rest of the crew had left before she approached him. “Just an FYI—I’m not leaving to go back to shore.”
He’d suspected she’d resist. “There’s nothing you can do out here while we ride out the storm. You might as well take some of the artifacts we’ve already uncovered back with you and begin working on them in your own facilities.”
“You’re trying to get rid of me.”
He put his hands on her arms. “No, I’m trying to protect my ship, our project, this crew, you, and our unborn child, and right now you putting up another road block isn’t helping.”
“You don’t understand! We have to catalog these finds. Without that, they’re practically worthless! You won’t be able to prove their provenance without them.”
“No, you don’t understand. We’ve got a hurricane coming. A goddamn hurricane! And none of this will matter if we lose it all.”
She frowned. “Fine, but I’m not leaving without some of the artifacts that are too fragile to handle being bumped about in a storm.”
Yourself and our child included, he added silently. The diving incident had shown him stark reality that Bella was not a water baby. Yes, she could swim, but out here, if she wasn’t one with the water and something happened to the ship, she’d die. That simple. And he wasn’t willing to take the risk. She meant too much to him.
“Go pack what you’re taking, and have Rory get it prepped to load in the helicopter when it gets here.”
Bella turned on the heel of her bare foot and headed down to the conservation deck.
The next half hour was a blur. Men rushed to get the ROV ready to go, even as the chop in the water began to increase and the surface of the sea was whipped up into white caps. The clouds overhead had lost their rosy glow and instead were thick gray wool pulled over the sky, making the air humid and hot.
Sweat trickled down his temples as he worked alongside his crew. They angled the magnetic end of the boom in place and lifted the ROV into the water. The minute it splashed down, Tuck checked his watch. An hour and a half and counting.
He was serious about the two-hour timeline. They needed to ensure the ROV was back on deck and secure before the front edge of the storm hit. He glanced at the sky once more. Pale gray was giving way to hues of dark gray and purple, the dark color of eggplant. Not good.
“Captain, we’ve hit fifty feet,” Barclay reported on Tuck’s earpiece.
“What’s the condition?”
“Good amount of surge in the water in the top fifty feet. Had a hard time compensating and had to turn on the reserve thrusters to get the ROV to go where we needed it, but it’s better now. You can definitely tell the ocean knows something is coming,” Barclay said.
“Get it down to the Rapid, get the transponder set and activated. If you can’t place the floats and get back here in under the two-hour limit for the dive, then don’t. I want that ROV back on deck and secured in an hour forty-five.”
“Aye, Captain.”
Tuck clicked off the earpiece and went looking for Bella. His earpiece buzzed again. “Yes?”
“Helicopter is on its way out. Should be here in an hour,” Toneau said.
Good. At least something was going to plan. “Make sure that Doctor Dupré and any of the artifacts she’s taking with her are on it.”
Chapter Thirteen
An hour later Bella found herself lifted off her feet, put into the helicopter, and strapped to a seat. Rain pelted down, needle sharp, and the wind ripped at her clothing. Several other crewmembers from the Discovery were already on board.
&
nbsp; “I told you, I don’t want to go!” she shouted over the roar of the helicopter engine, the wash of the prop blades, and the incoming storm.
The hard planes of Tuck’s face and the ice-cold certainty in his eyes told her he wasn’t budging and was furious. Rain plastered his hair to his head and dripped off his determined chin. “Staying is not an option!”
“But the rest of the artifacts, we need—”
“We don’t need to do anything! You’re going ashore. You can’t just think of yourself anymore. This is what’s best for all of us.”
Bella placed a protective hand over her still-flat stomach as his words hit home. He was right. She was being stupid and selfish, risking her life and the baby’s, just to stay onboard with him. But dammit, she didn’t want to go. Not without him.
She grabbed his arm, her fingers digging in. “Come with me.” She hated that she sounded like she was begging, but in the moment it didn’t matter. A flash of memory, her gripping her father’s sleeve, begging him not to go when she was five, pierced her brain, making her face and torso turn hot and her eyes burn. Deep down, something was telling her that if she and Tuck were separated, it would be final. This would be the end, and she’d never see him again. “Come with me,” she said again, still waiting for him to reply.
Tuck frowned, his jaw flexing, and he closed his eyes, pain etching his features into a distorted mask of fury and agony. “You know I can’t. I have to stay here. My crew needs me.”
“I need you,” she almost sobbed. “Our baby needs you. You told me you’d stay.”
His eyes snapped open, the blue now blazing, like the hottest part of a flame. “Don’t do this to me, Bella. Don’t make me choose. I’ll contact you as soon as everything is taken care of and all clear.”
She choked back the thick, hot feeling in her throat and let her hand slip from his skin. “I love you.”
Cupping her face, his thumb brushed against her cheek with such tenderness it nearly broke her heart. He nodded and kissed her, his lips firm and yet soft on hers, letting the depth of his emotion come through in the kiss when words failed him. She understood. He was both telling her he felt the same and good-bye.
He glanced at the pilot and gave a single curt nod, then pulled back and shut the door. Inside, Bella thought she might burst. Hot tears welled up at her eyes, and her fingers trailed along the rain-spattered glass as the helicopter lifted off the deck of the Discovery and into the darkening sky.
Sometimes he felt as if the universe were conspiring against him. People always said if fate handed you lemons, make lemonade. But what happened when it handed you shit?
Fists clenched, Tucker strode back to the bridge. When Toneau handed him a towel, he muttered, “Thanks,” and roughly wiped himself down. A lost cause. His clothes were still wet from the increasing rain outside.
The chop was getting worse and the ship beginning to sway. He hated sending her away like that, but what the hell else was he supposed to do? He couldn’t leave, and she couldn’t stay. That was that. End of story.
“Cap,” Williams’s grim tone caught his attention, “hurricane has changed course. It’s growing stronger and tracking northward.”
Right into them.
Fuck.
Would you like another helping of shit? No, thank you. But it got handed to him anyway.
“Is the ROV secured?” He’d barely had time to check on it while he made sure Bella and what artifacts the helicopter could accommodate were packed on board.
“Aye, Cap,” Barclay answered. “Secure. Transponder and floats placed on the wreck are good to go.”
“Good work.” He glanced at Toneau. “Get us the hell out of the direct path of the storm, and keep tabs on that transponder.”
“Aye.” Toneau’s normally carefree demeanor was gone. They were down to a skeleton crew, just five of the team left on the ship, and they were still loaded with cargo brought up from the Rapid.
If they made it out of this, it would be a major coup.
The whole time she’d been sitting on the helicopter, all she’d been thinking of was Tuck. Her only consolation was that she’d brought the crystal ball back with her. If there was a curse on her family, it would end with her and Tuck. Fate could go screw herself.
The crew from the Discovery took care of transporting the cargo into the Fontanel & Company truck. There was only one box she was worried about, and she took that one in the car with her as she drove home.
The streets of New Orleans were deserted and smelled of water on pavement. Water slewed down the streets in little rivers over the cobblestones as storm drains maxed out. Shops were boarded up with hasty pieces of cheap plywood. Wind whipped the palm, crape myrtle, and oak trees and blew debris around as the power of the storm increased. At least she’d had the foresight to call ahead while she was on the helicopter and let Aunt Min know she was coming.
She made it back to the French Quarter as the sky grew even darker. Rain was coming down harder, lashing against the car furiously enough that the windshield wipers on full could barely keep up. The only blessing was, in this weather she wouldn’t have to fight the tourists for a parking spot and could park right outside the house. She grabbed the plastic tub from the passenger’s seat and ran inside, shoving the door closed hard against the increasing wind that grew stronger as it tunneled down the narrow streets between the old brick buildings.
“Are you dripping on my floor?” Aunt Min called out in welcome as the door slammed shut.
“Got a towel?”
“Right there next to the door, cher.”
Bella set the plastic bin down and hastily dried off. Between the artifacts inside and the liquid they were stored in for preservation, it was damned heavy. “I’m going upstairs to change,” she called out. She took the plastic container up to her adjoining bathroom and set it down in the tub, so that if anything sloshed out it wouldn’t be on her bed or the floor.
Before she did anything else, she wanted to reassure herself that the crystal ball was safe.
Bella quickly dug through the rest of the pieces, desperate to find the orb. There’d been four identical boxes, with the most precious of the artifacts stacked side-by-side, and she’d grabbed the top two, which was all she could manage.
But the crystal ball wasn’t there.
“It’s the wrong box!” The crystal ball was still on the ship with Tucker.
Bella staggered into her bedroom and collapsed onto her bed, her knees suddenly too weak to hold her upright. Deep in her chest an ache bloomed, spreading outward like a dark oil slick on water. She curled up, bringing her knees to her chest and wrapped her arms around her legs.
Fate was a cold-hearted bitch. If that crystal ball was still out there with Tuck, then odds were the Discovery was about to become another shipwreck.
She watched the storm coverage on television until the power went out. Aunt Min lit candles and brought her a blanket and rubbed her hand in soothing circles on Bella’s back, but the dark, cold feeling invading her bones couldn’t be soothed that way. What if he died as so many other men over the centuries who’d dared to love a Dupré woman had?
“He’s going to be fine, Bella. It’s just a hurricane. We’ve been through worse.”
Bella nodded. Her aunt said the words, but her eyes mirrored the worry lodged in her own chest. There was every chance Tucker and the ship might not survive.
“Do you want some soup?”
Bella shook her head. Hell, she wasn’t even able to summon one-word answers anymore. She refused to believe in fate. Refused to believe that she’d lose him, and that took every ounce of energy she had left.
Min frowned. “Maybe you ought to sleep.”
Sleep. Yes. And just let it all fade to black. Bella lay down on the bed, the blanket tucked around her, and listened to the wind howling outside and the clatter of a loose shutter somewhere in the house as it banged against the sturdy bricks of her family home.
Stay safe, Tuck. Stay sa
fe. Come back for me.
For the next four hours, the remaining crew of the Discovery put all their energy in fighting for their survival. Clouds, dark purple, gray, and black, swirled overhead, bringing a torrent of rain, as if the sky poured a giant bucket over them.
The storm lashed out, tearing away bits of the ship in the high winds and sloshing them about as the Discovery roller coastered on black waves sixty-feet tall. The sea crashed over them, scouring away everything on deck that wasn’t secured. The ship moaned and creaked in protest at the beating it received. Just staying upright was a challenge. Every muscle he had ached with the effort of holding on.
Eventually the storm moved on to bigger and better destruction, no longer interested in toying with them. The sea slowly leveled out, but the sky stayed dark. Night had fallen while the storm raged. Only flashes of lightning in the distance on the back edge of the storm could still be seen on the dark horizon.
They sat in the conference room, every one of them physically, emotionally, and mentally exhausted, but alive. And that was something to celebrate. They cracked open a few bottles of beer. As far as he was concerned, every man on board more than earned his cut of the treasure. Even though there was more to bring up, what they had already found was more than enough to make them all very wealthy. But it had never been about the money, not for him. Going through the storm had brought things into sharp focus for him. Making a name for himself with the discovery of the Rapid wasn’t enough. He couldn’t start a life with Bella until he freed himself from his past. Having a baby only put a ticking clock on how quickly he needed to sever ties. And to do that, he needed to confront his half brother Phillip and take control, ultimately tear apart, and sell off the McCormack Group. He wouldn’t be the victim of his genetic ties any longer.
Her Sworn Enemy (Men of the Zodiac) Page 15