Chapter 14 #3
Oh?
And then he leaned in and kissed her. Sweetly, his hand around her neck, his thumb caressing her face, not rushed, not urgent, gentle and perfect and exactly the inspiration she needed.
He was impulse and safety and the future she hadn’t known she needed until he’d shown up, and kept showing up, whether she asked him to or not.
Because that’s what love did.
He lifted his head, his eyes meeting hers. “You are so beautiful, Tia. Just so we’re clear.”
She laughed. “We’re clear.”
“Good.” He pulled away from her. “Presentation time. Let’s do this, boss.”
She laughed. “Codirector.”
* * *
Continue the adventure with the next book in the series, Austen !! A shark specialist finds adventure, danger, and romance on the high seas…
THERE'S TROUBLE IN THE NORTH...
Austen Kingston isn’t looking for love but billionaire Declan Stone has other ideas in book 4 in the Minnesota Kingston series by USA Today bestselling author Susan May Warren.
His secrets could get them killed…
Austen Kingston isn’t impressed with Mr. Billionaire, Declan Stone. Sure, he’s handsome, and has a generous heart, but she is happy with her life as a treasure hunter-slash shark diver. Besides, she’s seen what wealth can do to someone…no thank you.
Except, a routine dive turns treacherous, and she finds herself in need of rescue…
Billionaire Declan Stone can’t stop thinking about the beautiful woman who led his dive team, and frankly, she seems just the kind of woman who isn’t afraid of danger (hello, shark diver!) The last thing he expects is to find her adrift in the middle of the Caribbean…
What she doesn’t know that while Declan appears to be just another wealthy philanthropist, he’s also living a double life…one that could cost him everything. And the last thing he needs is the woman he’s come to care for in the middle of the crosshairs…
But what’s he going to do—leave her adrift at sea?
More…when Austen discovers who he really is, can she fall for a guy whose life means danger?
When his shell game against the Russians backfires, Austen and Declan must survive being lost at sea, dodge international hitmen, and expose a deadly conspiracy.
With time running out and enemies closing in, can they trust each other enough to survive? Or will the secrets they keep drag them both into the depths of betrayal?
Dive into this closed-door, survival, forced proximity romantic suspense, perfect for readers who love their romance with a side of heart-stopping action.
Pre-order from the Susan May Warren Fiction store for early access, or from your favorite retailer !
Keep reading for a sneak peek at Austen …
AUSTEN | MINNESOTA KINGSTONS BOOK 4
Rule number one: Don’t run away from the shark.
Of course, when Austen said exactly that to her two dive clients, they stared at her as if she’d told them to stand in front of a moving freight train.
“Listen. You panic, you start splashing and swimming away—you become prey.” She’d been checking their tank connections and opening the air valves as she said it.
Elise Jameson sat on the seat of the dive boat, holding on as the private charter banged through the waves. Spray coated the deck, but it landed warm, refreshing, the sun high as it baked the cloudless day.
It would be a perfect day to dive the USNS Vandenberg, seven miles off the coast of Key West. The waters glistened a deep blue, and the sun’s rays just might reach all the way to the massive sunken ship, some ten stories tall, over five hundred feet long, and settled into the sandy bottom at one hundred forty-five feet.
The artificial coral-reef habitat of moray eels, green turtles, stingrays, barracuda, and, of course . . . sharks.
Mostly nurse sharks and nonaggressive reef sharks, but okay, occasionally Austen had seen a tiger shark snoozing in the shadows of the upper decks.
Hence the warning.
“I heard you should just hit them on the nose.” This from Hunter Jameson, Elise’s husband and a seasoned diver, so yeah, Austen might have guessed he’d heard that.
She pulled on her BCD and tank, strapping them on and reaching for her mask. “If they get that close, it might be too late.”
The boat slowed, and she reached out to steady herself, glancing back at Hawkeye, who stood at the center console, under the Bimini, his hat on backward, wearing aviator sunglasses, sporting a tan against his white Ocean Adventure Divers swim shirt.
He pointed, and she followed his gaze to the dive buoy, an orange floating ball onto which Hawk would moor his forty-foot dive skiff. The divers would follow the line down, sink into the quiet, and . . .
And she’d be flying. It happened every time she dove. As she descended, the ocean turned into the sky, and even as she swam through schools of fish, somehow the world dropped away into peace, only her heartbeat and her rhythmic, slow breathing tethering her to reality.
For those brief moments, she was free.
She turned to Hunter. “Just follow me, and should we startle anything down there, remember these rules: Don’t panic, maintain eye contact, and back away slowly. Feel free to shout through your regulator, to blow out bubbles, but don’t thrash. Even better—tuck your hands under your armpits. Your gloves can reflect light and look like fish so?—”
She stopped talking at Elise’s wide-eyed look. She held up her hands. “Listen. This is a great dive. The ship is covered in barnacles and green and yellow algae, with coral already growing in areas. It’ll be inhabited by all sorts of fish. We might even see a goliath grouper, and definitely parrotfish and angelfish, lionfish, maybe silvery tarpons, and hopefully, Millie our resident loggerhead.” She pulled on her mask. “Just stay with me. I promise—I’ll keep you safe.”
Then she sat on the edge of the boat and backrolled into the water.
Promises, promises.
She’d seen Hunter and Elise dive before—they knew how to handle themselves in the water. And Hunter had been in the military, so he didn’t seem like a guy prone to panic.
They descended the line, no problem, and Austen had called it—the light pierced the depths even this far, although she needed her dive light to illuminate the inner passageways of the ship.
The first time Austen dove the former transport ship, the length had shaken her. The second largest intentionally sunken dive ship in the world, it stood ten stories tall, with nooks and crannies and stairwells and compartments. But she’d dived the wreck for the better part of the last four years, so she easily guided them along the upper deck, then down a stairwell to the mess hall, where a bright green eel emerged from the empty burners of the large rusty stove.
They watched a parrotfish scrape algae from a bloom on a railing, the crunch echoing in the depths. And Millie rose from one of her favorite spots under an anchor winch on the bow, paddled into the current with her flat oar arms.
Hey, Flash, Austen wanted to say as Millie struck out for the great beyond. Wait for me.
Austen checked her time—thirteen minutes down. Four more minutes and they’d head up. Time enough for a quick trip to the satellite dishes.
Rule number two: Keep your eyes on the shark.
It might have helped if she’d seen it lurking, but she’d already swum through the spokes of the satellite array.
Not until she turned did Austen see Elise at the bottom, her tank hooked on the array.
In all her attempts to break free, she’d kicked up dust and splashes and . . . yep, awakened a tiger shark sleeping in one of the superstructure sublevels.
It edged out, curious.
Hunter swam down to help his wife, and the two got jammed up in one of the spokes. Worse, Elise’s mask had dislodged and she struggled to clear it.
So she was clearly not watching the predator as he circled.
When the shark darted in and veered off, Austen knew she had to engage. She swam down, outside the satellite, reaching back for her tank tapper, the metal ball strapped on a band that encircled her tank. The tapping might scare him away.
Nope. He circled just below them, then darted in again.
Elise had broken free, her mask on but still half-filled with water, in full-out panic as she swatted and kicked away.
No—stop!
The tiger shark jerked away, but Elise’s movement only fueled his curiosity.
Austen grabbed Elise’s hands. Shook her head. Glanced at Hunter.
He got it, nodding, and took Elise’s hands. She struggled, but Hunter gripped her BCD, stilling her.
Of all the places to have a panic attack, a hundred feet down on the ocean floor might be the worst.
Stay calm. Austen tried to communicate with her eyes while also looking for the tiger.
Go down. She pointed to the upper deck of the structure, flattened her hand, and indicated that they should sink down to the platform.
Sharks typically attacked from behind or below?—
Hunter pointed behind her, his eyes wide.
Austen turned, and yep, he’d come in for another look-see.
A shout filled her regulator. The sound echoed in her head, but it might startle the shark. Then she blew out hard—bubbles rising around her.
The shark jerked away some six feet from her.
Glancing down, she spotted Hunter and Elise on the platform, also blowing bubbles. Hunter had put himself in front of Elise— sweet —and pulled out his dive knife.
Okay, everybody calm down.
Austen sank down to them, held up her hand, shook her head. Indicated that Hunter should put the knife away. But he shook his head and she turned. Oh no. The tiger wanted a taste.
Most likely it was just very, very curious about these erratic seals. But she faced him, stayed vertical, and despite the thundering of her heart, she kept her eyes on the animal and Didn’t. Move.
At the very least, the tiger wanted a bump, but she put her arm out, kept her elbow stiff, and caught it on the snout.
It had opened its mouth, but she deflected it even as it started to roll.
She pushed with her other hand, moving herself away from the shark.
It darted away, probably a little stunned. Hunter was right about the snout being sensitive, but she hadn’t hurt it.
The shark swam around the end of the superstructure as if retreating. Her watch beeped, a tiny shrill in the depths. Austen gestured toward the line leading to the surface, and Hunter grabbed his wife’s hand.
Turning her back to them, Austen searched for the shark as she grabbed the thick rope with her glove. Then she let out the air in her BCD and started to ascend. Twenty feet from the ship, a dark shadow still circled the superstructure. She didn’t take her gaze from the shark as they rose to their deep deco stop at fifty feet. Her dive watch settled into a three-minute countdown and she searched the water.
So much for flying. She hung here like bait, waiting, the outline of the ship below.
A shadow in her periphery caught her eye and she glanced over. Stilled.
A barracuda. Long and silvery, but not a threat as long as No. One. Panicked.
Her timer beeped, and they ascended up the line to their fifteen-foot safety stop. From here, the white hull of the boat dipped in the water, and Hawkeye had already put down the ladder.
Elise seemed to have calmed, but Austen’s gaze swept the depths, her breaths hard. A glance at her O2 levels said her tank had emptied faster than usual. Well, no duh.
The alarm dinged and Elise shot to the surface, Hunter behind her. Austen hung on the line, floating up slowly, watching.
Elise pulled off her fins, unsnapped her BCD and let her tank float in the water. From above, Hawkeye fished it out of the drink.
Hunter did the same, disappearing next, and Austen was just reaching for the ladder when she spotted him.
Tiger, back, and maybe angry.
He darted from the depths, hot for the surface, probably attracted by the splashing. She kept her eyes on him, her hand on the ladder, her heartbeat in her throat.
Stay calm.
She put him at a good eight feet, so not the monster great whites she’d seen in Hawaii, but big enough to inflict damage.
She preferred to keep all her appendages.
There was shouting above her, but she sank in the water and put the ladder between her and the tiger.
Then she hung below it, waiting.
He came at her faster than mere curiosity would explain but not in full attack, so maybe intending to bump her again. She hung onto the ladder with one hand and set her other cupped hand on his snout. He reared up, and she rode with him, her elbow stiff.
Her hand dislodged. But she flipped above him, moving over him, and pushed him away. He shook his tail fin and darted away.
She chucked off her fins and dove for the ladder. Scrambled up, still wearing her vest.
Hands grabbed her and hauled her onto the boat, dumping her into the bottom.
A splash and a scream, and she guessed the tiger shark had found a fin still floating in the water. She unsnapped her BCD, then rolled out of it and lay, breathing hard, the sun hot on her dive skin.
“You okay?” Hawkeye stood over her, then picked up her vest and set it in the rack at the back of the boat.
“That just might have been the bravest thing I’ve ever seen,” Hunter said.
She pressed her hands over her face. Closed her eyes.
There was a vast difference between bravery and desperation.
She finally scrubbed away the shaking and sat up against the side of the boat. “Anybody see my fins?”
“Sorry, Austen. I think they’re at the bottom.” Hawkeye had started the boat, probably not wanting to stick around.
She scooted up to the bench, the adrenaline still ripping through her.
“Wow. That was . . .” Elise wiped her hands across her face, clearing more tears than saltwater. “Thank you.”
Austen held up her hand, nodded. “It’s my job.”
Hunter shook his head. “Declan said that you were some sort of shark expert, but I didn’t . . . I guess I thought it was a euphemism.”
Declan. The urge to ask about the philanthropist rose inside her. He’d hired her to lead a dive expedition for his big charity event earlier this summer on the island of Mariposa and she’d thought . . .
Well, she’d been a little stupid, really. The man had the body of Henry Cavill, not to mention the jawline, and his dark-gray eyes could turn the ground under a woman to sand. Clearly, all the sunshine and seafood—not to mention how he’d handled unexpected trauma—had gone straight to her sun-bleached head. Plus, the man helped fund an orphanage while managing to run a large tech firm. According to her sister, Boo, he was worth billions.
So there was that, too.
She hadn’t heard a word from him since she returned to Key West. Probably because she’d just been the hired help. Hello .
Still, if she’d known how uber-wealthy he was, she might have given him the same stiff-arm she’d given the tiger shark.
Austen picked up a towel and started to dry her hair. “I studied shark behavior for two years in Hawaii. I was on a shark preservation and tagging team.” Hawkeye had picked up speed and she turned her back to the setting sun. Her stomach growled.
“Dinner is on us,” Hunter said. “We have reservations at Latitudes. I’m sure they’ll let us add another person.”
She held up her hand. “No, I’m good. I’m heading out for a week of vacation tomorrow and I need an early night.” In the distance, the city of Key West edged the horizon, the ocean a vivid aquamarine.
“Oh, Declan will be sad to miss you.”
Declan?
“He’s picking us up on his yacht in a couple days.”
The bait just hung there, and she couldn’t resist. “Really? Why aren’t you flying in? My brother Doyle is on his way back to the orphanage on a seaplane.”
“The airfield is still torn up on the island, and Declan’s chopper is being used to shuttle supplies back and forth from St. Kitts. And—” Hunter glanced at his wife—“one of us isn’t a fan of small planes.”
“I’ve tried the patch. I just can’t make it work,” Elise said. “We had an ugly incident over Denali once.” She made a face. “Thankfully, Dec offered to pick us up.”
Huh. Austen shouldn’t immediately assume it was because they were massive donors. Declan wasn’t like that.
But who was she kidding? He was probably just like every other billionaire. Still, she drew up a knee, wrapped her arms around it. “How is he?”
Elise had grabbed a towel, worked it through her dark hair, turning it curly. Petite and sweet, she and Hunter had been among Declan’s guests during the charity-event-turned-earthquake trauma. “Good. He set up the court date for us to adopt Jamal and Kemar from the island, which after the landslide was no small feat. I think he wants to get them out of there and into their new lives as soon as possible. We already had our home study done, so . . .” She reached for Hunter’s hand. “We’re very excited to bring the boys home.”
Austen had met the two boys during her stay. Jamal and his older brother, Kemar. “They’re very blessed.”
“Oh no. We’re the ones who are blessed.” Hunter wrapped his arm around Elise. “We’ve been waiting so long for a family. . . . It hardly feels real.”
Elise nodded, wrapped her hand into his.
“It’s like being set free from a long prison sentence,” Hunter said. “I’d sort of given up.”
“Not me,” Elise said. “I knew God had a family for us. We just needed to wait for it.” She turned to Austen. “You know the saying—’a longing fulfilled is a tree of life.‘”
Huh. Austen nodded as the boat hit a wave, thanks to a catamaran flying past them, and water sprayed them.
Elise laughed.
So apparently they were over their scare from the depths of the sea.
“Where are you going on your vacation?” Hunter asked as they slowed, moving toward the green buoys.
“Oh. Um . . . I’ll be doing some diving off Sosúa, in the Dominican Republic.”
“Dominican Republic?” Hunter said. “We dove the Zingara wreck there a few years ago.”
“That’s not the wreck she’s diving,” said Hawkeye as he cut the motor. They were puttering into the Key West Bight harbor. “She’s looking for the San Miguel, a Spanish ship that went down in 1551.”
She made a face. “No, I’m not looking for the ship.”
“Okay, Spanish gold, then.” Hawkeye’s mouth tightened around the edges.
“What’s that face for?”
“It’s the middle of pirate country,” Hawkeye said as they turned into their canal.. “Right off Haiti.”
“Calm down,” Austen said. “My boat is hardly a yacht worth attacking. And I’m not looking for Aztec gold.” She stood up. “I’m looking for the statue of Santa María de la Paz.”
She picked up the rope, ready to catch the dock. “It’s a sixteenth-century statue of the Black Madonna, about three feet tall, inlaid with pearls and rubies, sent by the King of Spain to a monastery on the island of Hispaniola—a.k.a., DR. It was sculpted by Diego de la Piedra, one of the king’s private artists. He died shortly after he sent the statue to Hispaniola, so it’s a one of a kind. The San Miguel went down on the Silver Bank after breaking up on coral in a storm.
A few relics from the wreck have been recovered, but not the statue.” She jumped onto the dock and wrapped the mooring rope around a dock post.
“And you hope to be the one to find this statue?” Hunter got up.
Hope might be a strong word.
“It’s just a vacation.” She jumped back into the boat and headed to the back to unrig the gear.
“Sounds like a job for Ethan Pike.” Hunter gathered up their gear. Elise had already climbed out of the boat.
“The treasure hunter? No. I’m not looking to get rich.”
She just wanted . . . Aw, shoot.
She stood, her gaze landing on a man standing at the end of the pier, long blond hair held back in a bun, wearing shorts and a tank. Mo.
And with him . . . Oh boy. Built like the ex-SEAL he was, dark blond hair, sunglasses, and not appearing at all like he’d taken a bullet to his chest a couple months ago.
“Is that your brother with Mo Winters?” Hawkeye had hoisted the BCDs onto the dock.
She sighed. “Yes. Yes it is.”
So much for escaping town.
“Right. I forgot what the date was,” Hawkeye said quietly as he unhooked another BCD from its tank.
Yep.
Mo and Stein headed her direction.
Hunter had gotten out. “Thanks again, Austen. Have fun on your trip. Should I say hi to Declan for you?”
While she debated her answer, her twin brother walked up, took off his sunglasses, held out his hand to Hunter, and said, “No. You most certainly shouldn’t.”
Then, even as he shook Hunter’s hand, he glanced at Austen, his mouth grim, a definite we’ve-got-trouble expression on his face.
And she had the strangest urge to turn around and run.
* * *