9. Tyler
I paced along Rhino’s rear deck for the umpteenth time and used the binoculars to scan the ocean around us. Not a single other vessel was visible. It was good news, and yet I couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching me. I’d had that sensation before, and I wished like hell I had acted on it last time. If I had, then Wesley would still be alive, and I wouldn’t have to worry about his mother hunting me down.
I returned to the air compressor, which sounded like jagged rocks in a blender. The fucking noise was getting right into my head. I monitored for fluctuations and checked the fuel gauge for the tenth time.
Indiana and her dad had been under the water for much longer than I’d anticipated. Not being able to communicate with them was doing my head in. My undercover work had been like that many times, except it was usually me who was exposed to the danger. I hated not knowing if they were okay. Indiana hadn’t given me any idea how long they expected to stay down there, and their air hoses had barely moved in half an hour.
I didn’t even know if they were alive.
Sunbeams were like flame throwers targeting my exposed skin. I had sunscreen on, and although I’d stayed in the shadow of the crane as much as I could, the sun bouncing off the ocean was just as damaging. The ocean was still, and there wasn’t a whisper of breeze. Sweat trickled down my back and everywhere else.
An explosion of bubbles erupted on the surface.
What the hell is that?
I raced to the side of the boat. A few more large bubbles burst on the surface, but I couldn’t see anything else down there.
I ran back to the compressor. The gauge showed the air was running smoothly.
As I sprinted back to the side, my heart jammed in my throat. Those bubbles were too big to be standard diver bubbles. Was it released air from the wreck?
Or did one of their air hoses get severed?
I studied their air pipes, praying for movement. But there was nothing.
Shit. Shit.
I swept my gaze across the shimmering expanse, desperately searching for signs of Indiana or Old Smithy. Or Chui’s yacht.
Maybe I could use one of the other air tanks and attempt to dive down there.
A smaller batch of bubbles burst on the surface again, and I ran down to the dive deck.
Like a ghostly apparition rising from the depths, the once opulent multi-million-dollar luxury yacht and heaps of yellow airbags attached to the wreck came into view.
It grew bigger by the second. In an explosion of bubbles, the yacht broke through the surface. Items that had been trapped in the wreck were liberated by the force of escaping water and they floated on the surface in a chaotic wave.
Only the top two levels of the yacht breached the surface, and the rest remained submerged, kept in position by the yellow airbags that bobbed on the surface like giant waggling thumbs. Tangled ropes, fragments of broken furniture, and scattered debris swirled in the water around them.
A dark shadow appeared ten feet below the dive deck, then another. A wave of relief washed through me.
Indiana and Old Smithy popped through to fresh air.
“Boy, am I glad to see you two,” I yelled over the compressor.
They spat their regulators out of their mouths as they swam toward me.
Indiana reached the handrail first.
“How did you go?” I asked.
“Give me a sec, ya impatient bastard.” She undid her buoyancy vest, and after she rolled out of it, I pulled the vest and air tank onto the deck.
She helped her father do the same.
“Turn off the compressor,” he barked at me.
I sprinted up the stairs and cut off the engine. The following silence hurt my ears.
When I returned to them, they both sat on the edge of the dive deck with their legs dangling in the water.
“Can I get you anything?” I asked.
“Water,” Indiana said.
“Beer,” Old Smithy added.
“Coming right up.” I sprinted up the stairs.
“Get him water, too,” Indiana yelled behind me.
I grabbed the drinks and two protein bars I’d brought with me. By the time I returned, they’d both stripped out of their wetsuits and were sitting down again. The black bikini Indiana wore was plain and understated. Her body, however . . . holy smokes, she was fit. She didn’t have an ounce of fat on her, and her arms, legs, and torso were toned to perfection.
Before I swallowed my tongue, I handed out the drinks and plucked the protein bars from my pockets. “Here you go.”
Indiana ripped open the packet with her teeth and took a big bite, but Old Smithy just scowled at his bar.
Although I understood her need for a break, I was certain her silence was an attempt to piss me off. She had no idea how long I could wait. Patience was one of my superpowers.
“You want more water?” I asked.
She squinted at me. “How’d you go with the gear?”
“No problems up here. Didn’t have to bash the compressor with the wrench once.”
She chuckled, and Old Smithy rolled his eyes. The scars on his back looked even worse in the blazing sunshine. It was hard to know if they’d happened at the same time or were from a lifetime of injuries.
After two months underwater, the top two levels of Chui’s yacht, bobbing in the shimmering sunshine, showed the unmistakable damage from prolonged submersion. The sleek, polished surfaces of the once glamorous luxury yacht didn’t gleam in the sunshine. They were dulled and coated with algae, barnacles, and marine growth. The outside walls were dotted with a tapestry of sea plants that clung to the various surfaces like the yacht had a disease.
Old Smithy flopped backward onto the deck and curled his arm over his face so his elbow was over his nose.
“Want me to find an umbrella or something?” I asked.
“I don’t need no fucking umbrella,” Smithy said.
Indiana wiped the back of her hand across her mouth, then stood. She nudged her toe to Old Smithy’s side. “Come on, Dad, we have work to do.”
He groaned. “Just give me five.”
“I can help.” I opened my arms. “You might as well use me.”
“Come on then.” She marched away.
I fell in behind her, getting an even better view of her butt than I had yesterday. Her bikini bottoms molded to butt cheeks that were shaped to perfection.
“Did you have any trouble with the sharks?” I asked.
She squinted at me over her shoulder. “Just one.”
“Oh no. What happened?”
She stopped at the crane. “A shark attacked one of our airbags.”
“Shit. I wondered what that explosion of bubbles was. What does that mean to the salvage?”
Her frown deepened, and I wished she would tell me what was going through her mind. Maybe it was men she hated. Nikki had been like that, and for good reason. Every man in her life had either let her down or abused her. Or, like me, relentlessly lied to her.
It tore me up to think Indiana had suffered like that. Then again, her love for her father was obvious.
“Indiana,” I said, “I can’t help if you don’t tell me what’s going on.”
“Can you get my sunnies? They’re on the counter on the bridge.”
As I marched away, I scanned the ocean around us again. Still devoid of other vessels. Still giving me a feeling someone was watching.
I grabbed Indiana’s sunglasses, and when I returned to her, she had both hands around a metal lever that she was straining to pull toward her.
“Please, can I do that?” I asked as I handed her sunglasses over.
Scowling at me, she put her glasses on and stepped back. Her expression suggested that she didn’t expect me to be able to move the lever either.
Hoping to prove her wrong, I gripped the lever, braced one leg on a metal bracket, and pulled. The lever released a metal-on-metal screech that made my teeth clench. It clicked into the open position, and I stepped back.
A tiny smirk twinged at her lips.
“Thanks.” She stepped over to a crank handle. “Hopefully, this will move, too.”
Her biceps bulged as she strained to move the handle to the right. The cog groaned, and above us, the arm of the crane moved a fraction and wobbled.
Indiana stepped back. “If you turn that crank, I can adjust the cable at the same time.”
“Got it.” I shifted into position. “Tell me when.”
She shifted to another handle, and as she braced on the lever, the muscles in her legs contoured, and the jagged scars across her leg bulged.
“You need to move it just one inch at a time. You turn the crane while I stabilize the winch cable. If we go too fast, we risk losing the wreck. Got it?”
“Yep.”
Finally, she was giving me information I could work with.
“Here we go.” She nodded at me, and I applied pressure to the handle. Moving it slowly was harder than it looked. It was like doing the slowest push-up ever, and the constant strain on my muscles burned. I had no idea how she did this on her own.
Inch by agonizing inch, we worked together. Sweat oozed from every pore, and the muscles in my arms went from burning to pure agony. Indiana’s strength and stamina was incredible.
“Stop,” she commanded.
I released the handle and raised my hands so she knew I’d followed her order.
Studying the cable, she turned her handle a half-turn more, then paused before she stepped back. “Good job.”
“Thanks. I had an excellent teacher.”
Her laugh was quick and seemed to surprise her.
I rubbed my aching hands down my thighs. “What’s next?”
“We try to drag that wreck away from this area before a shark takes out another airbag.”
“What can I do?”
“Help Dad bring up the air pipes so they don’t get caught in the propeller.”
I sprinted to the rear dive deck where Old Smithy was still on his back and his heavy breathing confirmed he was fast asleep. It was a bad idea to sleep in that full sun, yet I hated that I had to wake him.
“Hey Smithy, we need to get you out of the sun.”
Scowling, he lowered his arm from his face.
“Come on. I’ll help you up.” I offered my hand and to my surprise, he took it.
He groaned as he dragged his body upright, then yanked his hand free. “I’m okay.”
He flicked his hand at me like he was swatting a fly.
“Head to the hut. I’ll look after this equipment.”
He squinted at me like I’d proposed marriage, then shaking his head, he waddled away.
Using the binoculars, I scanned the ocean beyond Chui’s wreck, searching for incoming boats. After confirming we were still all alone out here, I dragged the air hoses onto the back dive deck, curling them into loops like they were before the dive. After I secured them and all the other equipment, I grabbed the binoculars and went in search of Indiana.
She was in the hut, squatting at her father’s side. She’d placed a cloth over his forehead.
“Is he okay?” I said as I entered the hut.
She jolted back and scowled at me.
Shit.
“Sorry.”
“Of course I’m okay,” Old Smithy grumbled. “Stop fussing, woman.”
Indiana stood and placed her hand on her father’s shoulder. “Get some rest. I’m going to need you later.”
I followed her to the other side of Rhino, where a rubber dinghy was secured on the deck.
“What do you need me to do?”
“Unhook that clip.” She pointed to a rope at the back of the dinghy that was attached to a pole.
I released the clip and helped her push the dinghy off Rhino’s side. She climbed in and using one hand to hold the dinghy against Rhino’s side, she pointed to a one-inch cable with a carabiner as large as my hand attached to the end. “Grab that.”
The cable was looped around a giant spool that spun around as I pulled the cable toward her. I handed the carabiner to her and rather than take it, she said, “Get in.”
Holding the cable, I climbed into the rubber dinghy, and as I sat, Indiana pushed off from Rhino’s side. She started the motor by pulling out the ripcord with a smooth, powerful movement, and the dinghy glided across the water toward the yacht.
“Help me find something to secure that to,” she yelled over the din of the motor.
As we glided along, I pointed at a D-shaped ring that was recessed into the floor between the upper deck and the next level.
“Good work,” Indiana yelled. “I’ll hold it steady. You attach that carabiner.”
As she nudged the dinghy into the rusted railing of the semi-submerged yacht, I hooked the carabiner over the metal D and pulled it into place. I gave Indiana a thumbs-up and sat.
She drove us back to Rhino, avoiding the cable that had sunk below the surface behind us.
Back on board, we worked together to raise the cable and give it as much tension as possible.
“What do you want me to do?” I asked.
She leveled her gaze at me. “Pray.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You think I’m joking.” She put her hands on her hips, and her gorgeous breasts seemed to heave toward me. “I’ve never salvaged a wreck as big as that, so the drag in the water is impossible to calculate. We’ll need to go damn slow and pray that we don’t get a big swell, or that those cables don’t break, or that some asshole doesn’t want to take that yacht from us.”
That was the most she’d said to me since I’d met her.
“Thanks for explaining. Let’s hope we don’t run into any of that. I’ll give Aria a call and let her know we’re on our way. I’ll also get Levi to do a fly-over and check we’re clear.”
She flicked her long ponytail over her shoulder and marched toward the bridge.
As I peered through the binoculars, studying the ocean around us again, a loud grinding noise announced the anchor chains being hauled back onboard.
I returned to the hut where Old Smithy was still on his back, fast asleep. My phone had one bar of signal. I hoped it was enough. I dialed Aria. She didn’t answer, so I tried again. On the third attempt, she answered.
“Tyler! Do you have news?”
I filled her in on what stage we were at with Chui’s yacht. “But it’s like towing an iceberg. Any chance Levi can do a fly-over and make sure?—”
“Ah shit, Tyler,” she said. “He can’t. His wife, Billie, has just gone into labor.”
Damn. I’d heard she was due to have their baby soon.
“I wouldn’t dream of asking him now,” Aria said.
Dread inched up my spine. “I understand.”
“Ring me when you have Rosebud Wharf in sight. I’ll meet you there.”
“Okay. Will do. But, Aria . . .” I paused. What I was about to say made me sound like a rookie, but I believed it to be true and couldn’t let it go unsaid. I’d learned that lesson the hard way.
“Spit it out, Tyler. What’s up?”
I cleared my throat. “I’ve had a feeling that someone is watching us, but I haven’t been able to lay eyes on anything suspicious.”
She didn’t respond.
“I could be wrong, but I think someone wants us to get the yacht onto land.”
“That’s a worry. I’ll arrange twenty-four-hour security.”
I sucked air through my teeth. “I hate saying this, but how can we trust the security? This is too important. Can I make a suggestion?”
“Go ahead.”
“We need to get on Chui’s boat as soon as it’s out of the water and search it before some other bastard gets in front of us. I’m talking tonight.”
“I agree. I’ll pull a team together. You want in on the search?”
“Absolutely,” I said, even though a decent sleep was calling.
“Good, let me know an ETA as soon as you can.”
“Will do.”
“And, Tyler? Good work.”
“It wasn’t me, Aria. Indiana Smith and her father deserve all the credit.”
“I’ll make a note of that. Watch your back.” She hung up the phone.
Using the binoculars, I scanned the ocean again. A tiny blip on the horizon caught my eye. Thankfully, it was a cruise liner and not a boat I should worry about.
I put the binoculars back on the bench and grabbed a cold water from the fridge.
“That was a good thing you just did.” Old Smithy’s voice sounded like he’d swallowed seashells.
Swiveling to him, I frowned. “What thing?”
“Giving Indiana credit for that salvage.”
“You both deserve it. What you do is incredible.”
He shrugged. “We’ve been doing this forever.”
“But that yacht is the biggest boat you’ve ever salvaged.”
He scraped his hand over his forehead and wiped the sweat onto his bare thigh. “We were lucky it wasn’t sitting any deeper and that it wasn’t tangled in coral and rocks. Otherwise, the physics to raise anything from the bottom are virtually the same.”
“Then it comes down to the equipment, right?”
He glared at me. “You bastards gave us no time to prep for this salvage.”
“I know. And I’m very sorry for that,” I said in what I hoped conveyed my genuine apology. “You and Indiana deserve to be compensated for this salvage, and I’ll do everything I can to make sure you get something in return.”
“Don’t waste your breath. The cops hate us.” He snorted. “We’re fine.”
“I know you’re fine, but that’s not my point.”
“It don’t matter, Kingsley. Luck was on our side. This salvage was quicker than we anticipated.”
Rhino’sengine rumbled to life, and everything shuddered around us.
“Let’s hope our luck continues all the way into Rosebud Wharf,” I said.
He jutted his chin. “There’s always some fucker trying to snatch something off Indy and me after we’ve done all the hard work.”
He spoke with so much venom, I wondered if that had anything to do with why he and Indiana hated the police.
“Not this time.” Clenching my jaw, I snatched the binoculars off the counter and strode to the side railing. As I scanned the horizon, I still couldn’t shake the feeling someone was watching.
It was the same feeling I had whenever Wesley’s ghost appeared out of nowhere.
Except this was somehow more real.
And more deadly.