Chapter 20
Zero
I’m great with computers.
Code.
Fashion.
Animals.
Orange crackers.
Even being someone’s favorite dirty little, never talk about, perfect for blackmail secret.
The shit I’m not great with?
Patience.
I would be a terrible big cat unless I was in the Chester camp.
Well, fuck.
Now, I want a Cheeto.
“Relax,” Garcia emotionlessly insists between sips of tequila, eyes still fixated on the crossword puzzle he’s been occupying himself with. “Ella está bien.”
“You don’t know that,” escapes alongside me spinning on my heels to pace in the other direction. “You don’t know that she’s fine.”
“I do.”
“You can’t know that she’s fine.”
“She is.”
“You’re not clairvoyant.”
“Telepathic.”
“You’re not that either!”
“No,” his eyes finally shift up to mine, “but I am aware of Salay’s skills.”
Pausing my movements absentmindedly occurs.
“I was aware of them when we hired her.”
Irritation pushes me to fold my arms defensively across my chest.
“That’s why we hired her. That’s why I went looking through my past to find her.”
My lips pull to one side in discomfort.
“I wouldn’t have gone to those lengths, took that high of a fucking gamble risking my relationship with her father – the police chief of Spike Village – if she were a liability, I had to be concerned about.
” Sternness steeps into his stare. “If I didn’t think she were capable of doing what we’ve asked, I wouldn’t have wasted her time or yours. ”
At that, my shoulders threaten to soften.
“Now,” Garcia indulges in another small sip, “be a good boy,” his pinky points at my feet, “and deja de hacer un agujero en el suelo de tanto caminar.” An amused, arrogant smirk slides onto his face. “Sí?”
I roll my eyes, turn my body, and redirect my focus back out into the water.
I’m not “wearing a hole into the floor”.
I’m just not not doing that.
I can’t be his level of calm in this situation.
Not when this is our last chance.
Not when their lives – as much as my own – are on the line.
One tiny piece of treasure is literally the difference between life or death.
Treason or freedom.
And that spec of shiny hope she’s searching for has to be found on a very tight schedule because some old royal dude can croak at any second, but more importantly because oxygen tanks at the level she’s diving only last so long.
And I’m pretty sure she’s at that point, if not past it.
Rather than say another word to the unworried man behind me, I lean slightly forward to get a better view of the water she should be arriving in and scan it as if I suddenly have x-ray vision.
“If I don’t have superpowers, neither do you,” teases the tequila connoisseur from behind me.
Mirth fills my expression pushing my face to angle itself over my shoulder to respond when all of a sudden a loud, wet, thud appears on the opposite side of the ship.
Our attention instantly snaps to it in tandem, spotting a sight that instills relief and horror alike.
“Shit,” Garcia mutters at the same time he carelessly abandons his drinking glass on the floor. “She might not be breathing.”
“What?!” leaps past my lips during my dart over to where she’s sprawled out. “What do you mean she might not be breathing?!”
“She could’ve run out of air,” he less than calmly explains upon dropping to his knees to aid in removing her mask. “She could’ve fucked up her accession.” The tugging is meant to be gentle but is littered with panic. “She could’ve-”
“Just…needed…a…moment…” sasses our lady the instant her face is free. “Forfucksssake…” Her head flops towards him. “You try finding buried treasure on a hope and a prayer.”
We both chuckle; however, it’s Garcia that snarks, “Bon Jovi estaría muy orgulloso.”
“I will take their praise and my pay,” she lightly pants prior to pulling out an object from thin air like a magic trick I don’t understand, “and our lives back.” Skipping the idea of sitting up precedes her shoving the tiny piece of jewelry into my line of sight. “Make the call to Prince Fuckface.”
“That’s…that’s…” disbelief has my head shaking against my own volition, “that’s really…” I extend my unsteady hand towards it. “You…”
“Am really that good,” Salay boasts when she finally sits up. “But don’t lose this shit. That’s the only piece I managed to grab.”
“Why don’t I hold onto that for safe keeping,” Garcia’s suggestion is attached to his physical intervention, “while you get acclimated,” he kicks his chin at our princess, “and you get on the sat phone to let Weslington know we’re ready to meet when we get back to shore.”
Post the tiny piece of metal being slipped away into Garcia’s pocket, we help our girl back onto her feet, out of her gear, and give her space to truly breathe non-tank air.
Additional astonishment pops up into my brain like an ad that’s managed to get around my internal blocker.
I can’t believe she found that shit…
I can’t believe we were…right.
Holy shit.
That I was right!
That my program got us what we needed to help solve one of the biggest treasure legends out there!
Holy shit…
This means my debt will be paid.
Fully.
Fucking.
Paid.
And I’ll be…free.
Free from the royal pain in my ass…which also means…Salay is free.
Free to leave us whenever because there’s no salvage to keep her hanging around.
No Scooby Doo mystery that needs help solving.
And if she’s free…Garcia is free.
Free to go back to our city.
Back to his life.
His expensive suits.
His clients.
His women.
So…many…women.
So many females that aren’t me.
Aren’t us.
I know he only gave into this…into us…due to believing that I was gonna die or get dragged to another country to…also…die…but like…now that I’m not…now that forever could be a possibility, is it even a possibility?
Or was this whole supposed to be a fling situation one arrangement that he will eventually have him hitting the delete key in his mind?
“Call, Little One,” Salay insists as she strolls by towards where she needs to steer. “I’d like to celebrate this shit over mojitos and mole verde enchiladas.”
The realization that I’m still clutching the phone but haven’t hit dial yet occurs around the time Garcia warmly grunts, “?Es eso una petición?”
“Not a request,” she announces and starts up our water vessel, “but an order Chef Oldardee.”
He grunts in continued amusement before tossing a question at me, “Y tú?” The smile I’m flashed is the type of shit I’ve spent what feels like most of my life dreaming about. “Does my favorite little toy have any requests for our victory dinner tonight?”
Once more relief defrags my system, convincing me to move closer.
Join them.
Accept the relationship update that really seems to be happening.
“No,” I casually answer on a crooked grin, “just a few for dessert.”
The hungry ass grab and growl I’m given gets my fingers moving across the keys to call the one number – that isn’t the Coast Guard – we carry around with us on the ship.
Weslington not answering – meaning I have to leave a voicemail – isn’t a major surprise but a welcomed one.
Knowing we have what he wants, knowing he’s going to get what he wants, is enough.
Hell, knowing neither of them are planning to bail the minute we get back to shore is enough.
Docking – while a trickier task than parallel parking – thankfully isn’t difficult for a pro like the one who has a piece of my heart; however, not distracting her apparently is.
“Go away,” she playfully fusses at the same time she begins to deal with the dock lines. “You two are not good at this part.” Grabbing a hunk of rope precedes a sassy smirk. “You can barely tie your shoes let alone a boat.”
“I don’t wear shoes I have to tie for that reason,” I juvenilely joke and unload onto the dock. “Flops for the win, right, my guy?”
Expecting Garcia to retort with something witty – or snobby – from around the corner where he slipped to grab his stuff, only to be met by unforeseen silence immediately has those ancient sounds they say would blare when you were trying to get onto the internet roaring in my head; however, the opportunity to think or act on the strangeness is swiftly stolen.
Salay’s turning frame is unsuspectedly met by a stranger and a hand towel.
Trapping her arms to her sides is executed in a single one-armed bear hug motion to allow the other to cover her open mouth and nose.
“Salllayyyyyyy!” rushes out of me as I prepare to jump back onto the boat yet again not anticipating to be stopped by a gun being pointed in my face by a random stranger.
“I would advise against taking another step,” an unknown, accented female voice states from somewhere behind me. “I would hate to have my men wound you as a warning to how gravely serious I am.”
The sight of the woman I’ve fallen for lifelessly slumping in his arm sends my heart plummeting to the pit of my stomach.
“You can rest assured, Mr. Fiorenzo.” She waits until I’ve pivoted to face her to continue.
“Miss Henderson – much like Mr. Garcia – is alive, just momentarily incapacitated.” Fear wrinkles my forehead prompting the slender, golden beige skinned brunette slowly approaching to officially introduce herself. “I’m Princess Temperance Weslington.”
Between the accent and the similar features, she shares with her brother, that much is apparent.
“And I am here to make you a deal.”
“I already have a deal,” I announce, voice shakier than I intend, “with your brother.”
“Yes, I am aware.” Her tight, peach dress bearing frame stops in front of mine as do those of her security details. “However, I am here to strike a different deal. Your friends-”
“Partners!”
“Whatever,” she emotionlessly brushes off, “for the location of the golden discovery you finally managed to make today-”
“How do you-”
“Pathetic that you think I would be stupid enough to not have an inside source on his team.”
“What’s-”
“To stop him from having one on mine?” The eye roll I’m given is far from amusing. “His lack of vision as well as execution. He’s practically the equivalent of walking chlamydia stuffed into a designer suit with a cocaine addiction.”
Didn’t know about the former.
Well aware of the latter.
Pretty sure we saw him do a line before we left from his birthday party.
“As I was saying, I will take the actual location of where you found the treasure, along with all the information you’ve collected and decoded regarding it – including the original, lost clue my sibling provided for you.
” There’s no time to even consider objecting.
“You give me that, and I’ll return them. ”
“But if I give that to you then your brother will kill me!” impulsively pours out of my mouth.
“And if you don’t, I will kill them.” The corner of her lip kicks upward. “Quite the little conundrum you’re in, isn’t it?” Temperance tauntingly leans a bit closer. “You have to decide who is more worthy of saving. You or the two people you’ve come to care about most in this world.”