Under the Surface

by Kira Sinclair

  Which was why he stuck to inviting the uncomplicated ones to his bed. No fear of getting attached with them. Until recently, his life hadn’t been conducive to long-term anything. Hell, he’d barely been willing to sign more than a one-month lease. He never knew how long he’d be in any one place, especially when assignments could last months at a time.

  Since joining the Navy at eighteen, the past year and a half had been one of the longest stretches he’d spent in one place. And he’d been too damn busy to think about anything aside from a quick release of tension.

  If Loralei Lancaster hadn’t been part of the team that had stolen his research, both his body and brain definitely would be interested. So maybe it was better they were adversaries. He didn’t need any distractions right now.

  “Trident,” was the first word she uttered.

  “Brilliant deduction, baby.”

  “Don’t call me baby.”

  Jackson shrugged.

  “Which one of the assholes are you?”

  “Assholes?” He took offense at that. Especially considering she was the one throwing the term around so blithely.

  “Assholes, owners—same difference.”

  Jackson laughed bitterly. “I hardly think so, princess. Ask your good friend Brian all about assholes. He came about thirty seconds away from blowing me and everyone else on your father’s team sky high eight months ago.”

  “I don’t believe you.”

  “Suit yourself. Either way, you’re wasting your time here in paradise. Go back home to Chicago where you belong.”

  Her arms crossed over her chest, Loralei glared at him. “If that was true you wouldn’t be bothering to tell me. You’d just laugh at me from the deck of your ship like the world-class prick you are. What do you have against me?”

  “You personally? Nothing.” Yet. “But your dad and his crew? Plenty. They nearly got me killed, fired me and then stole from me.”

  “They stole from you? According to Brian you’ve been stealing our clients for months.”

  “It isn’t stealing, princess, if they want to leave. And I promise, taking them was so damn easy. I didn’t even have to undercut your price by very much. Most of the clients were more impressed with our professional, experienced and safety-conscious company.”

  Her mouth worked for several moments, no doubt holding back the stream of words she wanted to fling at him. He had to give her credit for controlling her reaction.

  “But let’s go back to the stealing issue. Where do you think your father got his research on the Chimera? I can promise you it wasn’t by spending every spare moment over the last decade tracking ocean currents, researching historical records and meticulously plotting out potential courses for the ship.”

  Loralei shook her head. He could see the denial clouding her eyes. She didn’t want to believe what he was saying, not about her father.

  He understood. There was a time in his life, long ago, when he hadn’t wanted to believe his own mother was capable of abandoning him without a second thought or glance back.

  Sometimes reality wasn’t fun. That didn’t make it any less true. And everyone had to learn to deal with the dirty truth. He certainly had. Loralei would survive learning that her old man wasn’t who she thought he’d been.

  Or she’d reveal that she was just like him.

  Either way, he’d at least know where he stood with Lancaster Diving and could plan his next move accordingly.

  “Leave,” she said finally, her lips barely moving on the low, menacing word.

  Pushing slowly out of the booth, Jackson did as she’d asked. He watched her take a deep, calming breath as the space between them grew. He understood the instinct, felt the urge to clear her from his own lungs so that he could think again.

  Instead, he stood at the end of her table and stared down at her.

  “Think about what I said, Loralei. Your dad didn’t get all my research, so the chances are you won’t be looking in the right location. You’re wasting time and money. And if my information is correct, you can’t afford either right now.”

  * * *

  LORALEI WATCHED THE brute of a man walk away from her. Her mind spun drunkenly, as if she’d had several of those damn drinks instead of a few measly sips before wasting good alcohol to soak his head.

  She assumed Jack was short for Jackson Duchane, one of the owners of Trident. Brian had told her something about each of them. If she’d been paying attention and not trying to drown her neuroses in alcohol she might have clued in to who he was before giving him the chance to humiliate her.

  Just remembering the way her body had reacted to him sent a wave of embarrassment across her skin. Great. Just what she needed.

  The things he’d said about her dad... They’d hurt.

  Could they be true? She’d always thought of her father as a big, distant, honorable guy. On the few occasions he’d come inland and spent time with her, he’d always admonished her to be a good girl. A good person. Stay away from drugs. Don’t let boys pressure you into doing anything stupid. Follow the Ten Commandments. Listen to your grandparents.

  What part of those rules allowed him to steal from Jackson Duchane and his partners?

  None of them.

  But she was old enough to realize parents sometimes said one thing and did another. She’d just never gotten that impression with her own father. Not that he’d been around enough for her to really know.

  And that was the damn kicker.

  She couldn’t look Jackson in the eye and call him a liar because she didn’t know.

  Her gut told her it was possible. Lancaster Diving was in serious financial trouble. And, according to Brian, her dad had blamed Trident for that situation. If that was the case, would he have felt justified in bending the rules?

  Possibly. Probably.

  Damn it!

  So, what the hell was she going to do? She’d put all of her eggs in this one basket. This salvage was her salvation. Their salvation. All the guys who’d spent their lives following her father around the world, taking jobs wherever they had to in order to make a living.

  She couldn’t ask Brian if what Jackson said was true. He’d probably just lie to her.

  Or maybe it wouldn’t be a lie.

  If her father had stolen from them, why hadn’t Trident pressed charges?

  Because they couldn’t prove it.

  Sitting there alone in the booth, Loralei came to a stunning realization. The asshole was playing mind games. He knew they were after the same treasure, and he was trying to cut her off at the pass. Convince her to walk away before the fight had started.

  What irked her even more was that he’d used his beautiful body, dangerous charm and sex appeal to do it. He hadn’t hesitated to crowd into her personal space, kiss the hell out of her and get her all flustered before dropping his verbal bomb.

  Dirty, nasty fighting.

  And she’d fallen for it.

  But she wouldn’t again. Nope. Next time she’d be prepared for Jackson Duchane. Maybe she’d turn the tables, give him a dose of his own medicine.

  She smiled gleefully. This was going to be fun.

  More fun than she’d ever expected when she’d boarded the plane for a damn island.

  * * *

  JESUS, MARY AND JOSEPH, what had she been thinking?

  Loralei crept across the deck of Jackson Duchane’s ship. She hadn’t intended to board the ship when she’d come to the marina but...

  Honestly, she had no idea what she’d intended. Opportunity had presented itself. She’d been watching the ship, trying to get a feel for Jackson’s setup and crew. One thing was for sure, his equipment was better than theirs.

  Loralei tamped down a brief spurt of jealousy mixed with anger. Of course his equipment was better. He was taking all of their work and money.

  As she’d loitered, the entire crew had left the ship. She wasn’t certain where they were going at twenty minutes before midnight, but she honestly didn’t care.
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  The ship was empty.

  And it was a chance she couldn’t pass up.

  So she was standing on Jackson’s ship, the deck rolling beneath her feet as she attempted to gain control of the panic welling up in her chest.

  Deep breath in. Deep breath out.

  Loralei pulled her gaze from the water. Her legs were stiff, knees refusing to bend as she shuffled toward the doorway that led down into even more darkness.

  But at least she was inside.

  The ship was huge, much bigger than hers. Amphitrite had been painted along the side in bold, curling letters. The boat clearly had been named for the Greek goddess of the sea and wife of Poseidon. She was definitely more modern, though, with a high-tech bridge and sonar system.

  Since Loralei didn’t know enough about either, she steered clear of both, creeping farther down the darkened hallway. She passed several closed doors, paused to open a few. They appeared to be sleeping berths. The last room opened to an office of sorts.

  Papers were spread across a large table that was bolted to the floor. Moving forward, Loralei sifted through them. It took her several moments to realize they were maps of islands. Not Turks and Caicos, but possibly the smaller islands dotting the water around?

  She flipped through several, unsure what she was looking at. For the first time, she wished she’d paid more attention when her dad had tried to teach her about some of this stuff. But considering her phobia, it had seemed a waste of time.

  And Loralei hated wasting time.

  The small room was too dark for her to make out the tiny lettering. And she didn’t want to risk turning on a light and catching someone’s attention.

  Grabbing a handful, she moved toward the porthole cut high on the wall. Moonlight filtered through, giving her something to see by.

  Holding the papers higher, she read the name of an inlet that she recognized. Her crew was heading there first thing in the morning. There was some speculation that the Chimera had sought shelter there before the storm hit. But, according to statements gathered from another ship that had been close, the ship’s anchors had snapped in the high winds and it had been dragged out to open sea.

  Which made the inlet a good place to start.

  Apparently, Jackson Duchane had the same intention.

  Unease and guilt crept up Loralei’s spine. What was she doing? She shouldn’t be here. This felt wrong.

  Dropping the papers back on the table, she tried to remember how they’d been arranged. Probably something she should have paid attention to before touching them. Dammit, she couldn’t even break and enter without screwing up something.

  Above her, a sound rang through the ship.

  Loralei instinctively dropped into a crouch.

  Gripping the edge of a chair, she shook her head. Probably just some rigging clanging with the sway of the ship. No one was onboard. But her frantic heartbeat urged her to go. Deciding to listen, Loralei cracked open the door and slipped back into the dark hallway.

  The doorway was three feet away when she heard the low murmur of a voice.

  “No, having you and Knox here wouldn’t be helpful just yet. Let me and the crew handle the preliminary dives. We need you on the Prescott job right now, and someone has to stay at the office to run things.”

  Loralei froze. Even the breath in her lungs stilled. A shadow drifted across a rectangle of light in the hallway a few feet away. Every muscle in her body tensed to fight or run, but the shadow passed. The low murmur of Jackson’s voice faded and her lungs released the breath she’d been holding in a shaky stream.

  It would not look good for Jackson to find her here right now. Maybe she should have thought of that before creeping on board.

  Based on his shadow and sound, Jackson had gone left. So it should be safe for her to go right, which was also the fastest route off this rocking torture chamber.

  Loralei carefully poked her head out and swept her gaze across what little of the ship she could see. The coast appeared to be clear. It was now or never.

  She kept low and stuck to the shadows as much as possible. She was out of the hold and nearly home free when her shoulder collided with something. A metallic clank echoed into the night.

  Her stomach rolled. The ship pitched. She stared at the midnight blue expanse of water spread out beneath her.

  Bile rose into her throat, burning a path and stinging her nose.

  God, she was going to throw up.

  3

  “WHAT THE HELL was that?”

  Jackson spun on his heel and looked toward the stern.

  “What was what?” Asher asked in his ear.

  “I have to call you back. I think someone’s on the ship.”

  “God, I hope so, Jack. We have several crew.”

  “I sent them in to town for a last hurrah before I crack the whip.”

  “So, one of the guys struck out and came back early.”

  “Maybe.” But something was off. Jackson’s senses were tingling. He hadn’t heard anyone approach.

  “You’re not in a war zone anymore, man. Time to let that shit go.”

  He wanted to argue the point, but Jackson had bigger things to deal with, so let his friend’s comment slide.

  Asher might be a prick on occasion, but there was no one Jackson would rather have at his back in a shit storm. They’d been assigned to the same platoon when he’d first come out of BUD/S training with the SEALs. Asher had taken a bullet for him. That was a debt not easily or quickly repaid.

  “Whatever. I’ll check in tomorrow.” Jackson didn’t bother saying goodbye before ending the call and pocketing his cell.

  He was already striding across the deck on feet that didn’t make a single sound. His body was tense, prepared for whatever might spring out at him.

  What he wasn’t prepared for was finding Loralei Lancaster crouched down beside the railing, her fingers gripping the metal so hard the veins across the back of her hands threatened to pop through the skin.

  He shouldn’t be surprised, but he was.

  Arms crossed over his chest, Jackson changed his stride, no longer concerned with concealing his approach. The soles of his shoes squeaked across the deck, but she didn’t flinch. Her gaze, trained on the water, never wavered.

  “What the hell do you think you’re doing?”

  She didn’t respond.

  Her breath was quick and shallow, probably a reaction to being caught in the act.

  Reaching down, he grasped her arms and hauled her up. Her fingers released the railing and clamped on him, digging into his chest. Finally, she looked up at him. Shadows melted across her face, shielding her eyes and preventing him from reading her expression.

  “Why are you on my ship, Loralei?”

  She shook her head, moving it back and forth as if in slow motion.

  “Hoping to get your hands on the information your daddy missed? Well, too bad, princess. I’ve been more careful in the last few months. There’s nothing useful for you to find.”

  A spark kindled in her eyes. He watched her chest rise and hold on a deep breath that she finally released with a whoosh of words. “Let me go.”

  “Why should I do that? I think contacting the authorities is a better option.”

  Her spine snapped straight. “And tell them what? You found me on the deck of your ship? I came here looking for you so I could talk. Clear up whatever misunderstanding you’re laboring beneath.”

  He scoffed. “Why were you huddled in the shadows, then? Sell the lie to someone who might believe it.”

  Her gaze slipped sideways before quickly jerking back to his. “I dropped something.”

  “What? The hammer you were hoping to brain me with? Or maybe you’re a knife kind of girl, look straight into someone’s eyes as you slip the blade between their ribs.”

  She gasped, her eyes going wide before narrowing down to slits.

  “What the hell are you talking about? I have no desire to hurt you.”

  “Sure,
that’s what they all say. I’ve seen plenty of bloodthirsty people in my life—women included—perfectly capable of killing with whatever was handy. Bomb, gun, bare hands. When you’ve watched a ten-year-old boy blow himself up because someone told him to, you learn not to underestimate anyone’s capacity to cause physical harm.”

  She blinked at him, her mouth going slack for several moments.

  “That’s...awful.”

  “Tell me about it.”

  Her fingers, which were still dug deep into his chest, uncurled, but she didn’t remove them. Instead, she spread them wide, pressing the warmth of her palm hard against him.

  “I’m sorry.” Her words were soft. For the briefest moment, he wanted to believe them.

  And then he remembered who she was and why she was standing on the deck of his ship.

  The anger he’d been suppressing for months—ever since realizing her father had broken in and stolen his work—roared to life.

  Bending, he swept her into his arms.

  She was lighter than she looked. Not that she appeared heavy, but she was tall.

  “What are you doing?”

  “Providing you a quick exit. I hope you aren’t particularly attached to those shoes, princess.”

  Turning, Jackson swept the water below them to make sure there was nothing she could hurt herself on. He was happy to provide a quick dunking as a lesson, but he didn’t want her to get injured.

  He knew the moment she realized just what he intended because suddenly she grew about three extra arms.

  She began squealing, begging, yelling. Her claws dug into his chest again. He managed to pry off one and then the other, holding both wrists tight in a single hand.

  “Stop struggling and take your punishment like a good little thief.”

  “Jackson, seriously,” she panted. “This is barbaric.”

  “Nothing wrong with a little hazing, princess. We’ll call this immersion therapy so maybe the next time you’ll think twice about breaking and entering.”

  Holding her out from his body, Jackson let her hover above the water. Her gaze darted beneath her. She sucked in a hard breath. And then she looked at him with imploring eyes.