Three Tequilas
An Althea Rose Novel
Tricia O’Malley
Copyright © 2016 by Tricia O’Malley
All Rights Reserved.
Cover Design: Alchemy Book Covers
Editor: Elayne Morgan
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form by any means without express permission of the author. This includes reprints, excerpts, photocopying, recording, or any future means of reproducing text.
If you would like to do any of the above, please seek permission first by contacting the author at: [email protected]
“Only the Devil and I know the whereabouts of my treasure; and the one of us who lives the longest should take it all.” – Edward “Blackbeard” Teach
Contents
Chapter One
Chapter Two
Chapter Three
Chapter Four
Chapter Five
Chapter Six
Chapter Seven
Chapter Eight
Chapter Nine
Chapter Ten
Chapter Eleven
Chapter Twelve
Chapter Thirteen
Chapter Fourteen
Chapter Fifteen
Chapter Sixteen
Chapter Seventeen
Chapter Eighteen
Chapter Nineteen
Chapter Twenty
Chapter Twenty-One
Chapter Twenty-Two
Chapter Twenty-Three
Chapter Twenty-Four
Chapter Twenty-Five
Chapter Twenty-Six
Chapter Twenty-Seven
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Chapter Twenty-Nine
Chapter Thirty
Chapter Thirty-One
Chapter Thirty-Two
Chapter Thirty-Three
Chapter Thirty-Four
Chapter Thirty-Five
Chapter Thirty-Six
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Chapter Thirty-Eight
Epilogue
Read an Excerpt from Tequila Knots & Valentine Shots: An Althea Rose Valentine’s Story
Chapter One
“I can’t believe I’m being asked to be a part of a research team,” I marveled to Luna as she examined her face in front of a cut glass mirror hanging on her side of the Potions & Tarot shop we owned. Like she had anything to worry about. She and I both knew she used magick to keep the threat of wrinkles away from her untainted beautiful skin.
“Althea Rose, there is absolutely no reason you wouldn’t be asked to be a part of a research team,” Luna turned and scoffed, hands on her delicate hips. Everything about Luna was delicate – from her slim build to her graceful cheekbones to the blonde sweep of her hair.
She could even wear white without getting it dirty.
I still hadn’t gotten over that particular annoyance with Luna. She was my best friend and business partner, and we were about as alike as roses and dandelions. But our differences did little to keep us apart and the bond between us was stronger for it.
Someday I was going to get her spell for keeping white clothes clean.
Even if I had to hold the scrawny bitch down and sit on her.
Luna narrowed her eyes at me.
“You just got a decidedly evil look on your face. What were you just thinking about?”
I smiled sweetly at her and pushed my mass of dark curls over my shoulder. This month I’d added some caramel streaks to my hair – which was fairly subdued for me. I was trying to tone it down a notch, as my boyfriend, Cash, led a far more normal life than I did.
Being a psychic and all could be a bit off-putting for most people.
And it was the “and all” part that I was still trying to figure out.
“Nothing, I was just thinking about how to get out of my next magick lesson.” I smiled brightly at Luna.
“Thea, you know you have magick. We’ve discovered that you’re stronger than you realize. Don’t you want to harness that power? You have no problem doing so for your tarot card readings – why can’t you do it with spells and rituals?” Luna shook her head at me – her blonde hair swinging like a curtain. “Most people would be ecstatic to know they have the level of power that you do. And here I am dragging you like a recalcitrant toddler to your lessons.”
I snorted. I’d only thrown one tantrum, hadn’t I?
“I just want to read cards and take underwater photographs. Is that too much to ask?”
“Yes, it is. When you are ignoring your goddess-given gift, it damn well is. I’m not saying you have to start joining me on all my rituals and start mixing up magick tonics. I’m just asking that you continue to learn how to safely practice magick. Goddess forbid you get stuck in another situation and try to run a spell all willy-nilly and what not.” Luna shuddered delicately. Did I mention she does everything delicately? I probably did.
“I can’t imagine that sleepy Tequila Key is going to have too much drama after the last few incidents. I suspect we’ll be cruising along just fine for a while here,” I said, crossing to examine a box full of crystals on the counter.
Tequila Key was one of the overlooked Keys on the trek down to the tourist hot spot of Key West. Years ago, an over-exuberant mayor had posted a sign off the highway proclaiming Tequila Makes It Better, forever sealing our status as an ignored destination. Tourists would hop out of their cars, take a silly picture by the sign, and continue the cruise down to Key West.
The crab shack guy who’d set up next to the sign was making a killing, though.
Tequila Key is divided into two distinct sections – the old section where the likes of me lived, and the new section, recently renamed Port Atticus, which housed white-washed mansions and manicured lawns. A few years back, the Whittiers, one of Tequila Key’s founding families, had begun a campaign to invite wealthy homeowners down to Tequila Key by offering a break on property taxes. It had worked – and I had to admit I didn’t mind the tax break.
Even if it meant I had to put up with the Prudie and Theodore Whittiers of the world.
Luna and I ran our Luna Rose Potions & Tarot shop in the older section of Tequila Key. We’d renovated a small clapboard cottage with two front doors to turn it into a divided shop. On Luna’s side, everything was white on white on white. With whitewashed floors and some gold accents, her shop was all elegance. In it, she sold handmade soaps, tonics, elixirs, and other healing gifts. Maybe she put a little charm into each as well – but that’s why they commanded such a high price. People were willing to pay more when magick was involved.
My side of the shop looked like the room of a rowdy teenager who refused to clean up. There was lots of leopard print, purple velvet, and crowded shelves full of various psychic antiquities and oddities that my mother sent me from her travels around the world. I’m certain that most of them had more magick than I even knew what to do with – but Abigail Rose played her cards close to her chest.
I’d only recently discovered that, aside from my mother being one of the most famous psychics in the world, she also was a sorceress.
Thanks for the heads up, Mom.
Luna was determined to hunt Abigail down and have a major talk with her, but my mother was off in another corner of the world – Myanmar at the moment, I believe. She was on the yacht of someone dangerously wealthy and quietly famous, and I’m sure she and my father were having the time of their lives.
Diving’s good there, I hear.
“Stop trying to distract me – what’s the deal with the research team?” Luna asked as she began to unpack her box of crystals, holding each one up to the light and examining it carefully before setting it down on the counter.
“A professor from some fancy-schmancy institute in London contacted Trace – if you can believe that. It seems he’s discovered an old manuscript, a treasure map of sorts, that leads to an undiscovered shipwreck. It’s believed to be from a Spanish treasure fleet. If what he says is true, it’s likely that the shipwreck could hold billions of dollars in salvageable treasure,” I said, a shiver of excitement and anticipation racing through me.
“And they want you to document it?” Luna asked.
“They want me to document it. Apparently they like Trace’s reputation as a dive master, and they researched my website to see if I was capable of the level of underwater photography they’re looking for. It seems I am, and they’ve rented Trace’s boat out privately for the next couple weeks, along with a generous stipend for my time.”
“Well, shit, add scientific researcher to your resume,” Luna squealed.
“I feel like I already have enough things on my resume.” It was true, too. Between being a full-time psychic and selling underwater pictures across the world, more work was the last thing I needed. But I couldn’t hide the fact that I was flattered the big-shots at the research institute were willing to have me catalogue their treasure hunt.
“You’re going on a treasure hunt,” Luna pointed out, moving across the room with a crystal in her hand. “It’s like every kid’s dream come true.”
“Every adult’s, too. Could you imagine the split of the treasure?”
“How does that work? Will you get any part of it?”
“Hard to say. It depends on how far offshore the wreck is. If it’s close to land, Florida can claim it. If it isn’t, well, it’s up in the air. I know Trace said we have some contracts to go over in the morning, which I assume details the fine print. It would be cool to keep a piece or two, though.”
“A piece or two?” Luna snorted and put her hands on her hips. “A gold doubloon is not just ‘a piece or two’ of some silly treasure. That’s big bucks you’re talking about.”
“Well, so? I mean if there is loads of treasure on the ship – what’s one little doubloon?”
Chapter Two
It appeared that it was big deal, after all.
The gold doubloon, that is.
The next morning I found myself huddled over contracts at Beanz, the local coffee shop. Trace had insisted on meeting me there instead of at the dive boat, which is how I knew he was taking this venture very seriously.
“Nothing? Nothing at all?” I squeaked, raising my eyebrows at Trace over the contracts stacked in front of us. We were seated at a small table stuck in the corner of the coffee shop. Regulars bustled in and out, waving a hand to us in greeting, as Trace leaned back and crossed tattooed and well-tanned arms over his chest.
“You can’t take any of the treasure,” Trace said patiently.
I bit back a sigh. One of these days I was going to have to get a hold on my attraction for Trace. I was in the middle of a relationship with a very hot and decidedly yummy millionaire who had pretty much everything a woman could want. So why was I still looking sideways at my dive buddy?
Trace and I had been friends ever since he’d moved to Tequila Key six or seven years ago. With his easygoing manner, tall lanky frame, and killer blue eyes, women flocked to him on sight. He’d built up a strong reputation for being an excellent dive master, and together we’d explored a lot of unknown spots – him just for the pleasure of diving without leading a crew, and me for working on my underwater photography. Our friendship had been easygoing and platonic through the years, with me often offering counsel on his various love interests. It wasn’t until Cash, my current boyfriend, had come to town and lasered in on me that Trace had suddenly made his move.
Shitty timing, right?
Months later, we found ourselves in a standoff of sorts. I continued to date Cash, and Trace was currently dating some slip of a girl who liked to wear thong bikinis. But I’d be lying if I said my view of Trace hadn’t shifted just a bit.
“Earth to Althea,” Trace said, snapping his fingers under my nose.
“Sorry.” I shook my head and focused back on the contracts at hand. “So you’re saying a gold doubloon is worth how much?”
“In the current market? Depending on age, condition, and what boat it comes off of – I’d say close to a million.”
“For just one of them?” I squeaked, fanning my face dramatically with my hand. Trace laughed, his teeth flashing white in his tanned face.
“Just one of them.”
“This is off Treasure Coast, right? The eleven ships that were lost transporting pearls, emeralds, and gold from Cuba to Spain?”
What? I’d been known to listen in on a history class once in a while. And I liked to know the history of wrecks in my area. As a diver, you never know what you might stumble across.
“Yes, though four of the eleven ships have never been found. Stupid commanding officer,” Trace snorted.
He was right, too. The commanding officer of the fleet had, senselessly, decided to sail right before hurricane season. In a matter of one week, all eleven ships had been lost, along with the lives of everyone on board. It was one of the greatest tragedies to ever befall a treasure fleet expedition. And there was still treasure to be found. Billions of dollars’ worth, or so it seemed from the contracts I was currently reading.
“Though I don’t think it’s the doubloons they are really after,” Trace added as an afterthought.
“What else are they looking for?”
“Well…” Trace ran his hand through his sun-streaked hair and looked around before bending closer and lowering his voice. “I’m fairly certain it may involve a legend of sorts.”
“A legend,” I breathed. This venture had suddenly taken on a whole new aspect. “From like a saint or something? From where?”
“You know how certain items in history have legends surrounding them? Like the Hope Diamond or the Holy Grail?”
I nodded, gesturing with my iced coffee for him to continue.
“Well, there’s an emerald that is mentioned in here – El Serpiente. I did some research,, and, well, if we find it – watch out.”
“The Serpent?” I asked, translating the Spanish phrase.
“Yes, green stone named for the green-eyed serpent. From what I can remember of my shoddy history class, when the Spanish invaded Mexico to gather treasure, somehow the history or legends get intermixed on Quetzalcoatl – the Aztec feather serpent god.”
“Sure, I’ve heard of him.”
“I’m not entirely sure if he’s strictly a Mexican or an Aztec god, but the legends of this god were taken back to Spain by explorers. Along with an emerald. The size of my fist.” Trace held up his fist, tightly closed. “The emerald is said to have been handed down as the stone of Quetzalcoatl, who is considered the God of the Morning Star – of light, truth, and justice. It’s believed that whoever possesses the stone becomes almost god-like himself – that it imbues the wearer with great powers.”
“No,” I breathed.
“People have been searching for El Serpiente for hundreds of years. The stone, once held by Cortes himself, was supposedly lost along with many other Aztec treasures and relics.”
“But it wasn’t?”
Trace shook his head.
“This professor seems to think the stone ended up on one of the boats that was heading from Cuba to Spain in 1715 before the storms sunk them.”
I let that sit with me for a moment.
“So what you’re saying is that a legendary emerald, presumably with god-like powers, has been tracked to a wreck off the coast of Florida?”
Trace nodded sagely.
“Holy shit,” I breathed, taking a sip of my iced coffee as I absorbed this news. “Is it like the Holy Grail? People can live forever?”
Trace shrugged one shoulder, his lips pressed in a tight line.
“I don’t really know. All I know is that I had to sign a confidentiality agreement to even read through this contract, a
nd that it is some major shit. And I shouldn’t even be talking to you about it without your signature on a confidentiality agreement.”
I shivered as his words went through me. This was big deal stuff right here – leaders of nations had sought this emerald for centuries. And we might be the ones to find it.
“Oh, I’m so in,” I gushed.
I mean, what could go wrong?
Famous last words. I rolled my eyes at myself. I should know better than to think something like that. And thinking it was just as bad as saying it out loud, as far as I’m concerned.
“Well, sign the confidentiality agreement first. Then we’ll dig deeper,” Trace said, looking over his shoulder as he slid the paper at me. I scanned the single page document – a fairly boilerplate non-disclosure agreement – and signed it quickly before pushing the paper back at him.
“Talk.”
“Okay, so this professor? Professor Johansson? Well, I think he has a pretty major backer on this project. He referred to it only as a ‘private investor’ and stressed that money was no object. I can’t even imagine how much El Serpiente would fetch at auction, but I’m sure it’d be a pretty penny.”
I tapped my finger against my lips as I thought about it.
“I know there’s that famous emerald up at the Smithsonian or something. Let me Google it.” I pulled out my iPhone and typed it in. “Gachala Emerald, 858 carats. Wow, it doesn’t even list the value. That’s a huge stone,” I murmured, scrolling through more information.
“Here’s another tidbit – the Spanish royal family liked to wear emeralds to add some much-needed color to the dark clothes they wore. The Nuestra Senora de Atocha,” I nodded in recognition of the name of a famous shipwreck off the coast of the Keys, “which sunk in 1622, was carrying over six thousand emeralds destined for the Spanish royal family. The emeralds discovered from the ship have been valued at over $400 million.”
I raised an eyebrow at Trace.
“Yowza.”
“I’ll say. So, we know that Spain’s royal family liked emeralds, and there’s a famous one rumored to carry mythological powers of an Aztec god. Professor Johansson from London, who is being bankrolled by an anonymous investor, believes he’s located the famous emerald, plus whatever other treasures this shipwreck may hold. Am I summing that up correctly?”
Three Tequilas (Althea Rose 3) Page 1