Page 6 of Pirates in Calusa Cove (Everglades Overwatch #2)

CHAPTER 4

Trinity leaned back and guzzled half a bottle of water. The sun beat down on her face. A combination of exhaustion and frustration rippled across her muscles and needled her brain.

“I can’t believe we haven’t found it. I thought you marked where the boat was,” Mallary said, frowning. She, too, was exhausted, and it showed, as well as her desperation.

“I marked the spot where my boat was anchored. I can’t be exactly sure where I was under the water. It’s two hundred feet down, and when I surfaced?—”

“Yeah. Yeah. Yeah. I know. I get it. You were pretty far from the Princess Afloat and a hundred feet off the bow, not off the stern where you started, and you had been worried you were dragging your anchor anyway. It’s just that we’ve been at this all day.”

“And dragging anchor. We can’t stay under for too long. You’re getting tired, so one more dive, and then we’ll have to call it a day. ”

Mallary bolted to her feet. “Are you kidding me? We have to keep going. My brother’s boat is down there. I know it.”

“Well, if it is, it’s not going anywhere anytime soon. We can come back out.” Trinity polished off the rest of the water. “Keaton and the guys have volunteered to come out, too.”

“No way.” Mallary shook like a wet dog. “He’s best friends with the chief of police of Calusa Cove. All the cops think my brother’s guilty. If they find anything, they’ll pin it on Jared, and that will be the end of it.”

“Dawson’s not like that.”

“Oh, really?” Mallary strolled to the stern of the boat with her back to Trinity. She raised her hand to her forehead. “Every cop believes Jared’s a thief and a liar. I’m so tired of it. Even that sweet girl I helped him with turned on him.” She glanced over her shoulder. “Are you going to turn on him, too?”

“No.” Trinity jerked her head. “I know you’re frustrated. But we can’t even be sure of what I saw. I was at least twenty feet away. I was running out of oxygen and had to come up. Otherwise, I would’ve explored more.”

“That’s what you say,” Mallary mumbled.

“I’m going to pretend you didn’t just say that.” Trinity could understand many things, but Mallary had come in hot today. She’d been snippy since they had met at the marina. “Okay, I’m sure I could talk the guys into having Dawson pass on the dive and just have Keaton, Hayes, and Fletcher do it.”

“Since when do you trust any of them?” Mallary turned, planting her hands on her hips. “Especially, Keaton. He’s been nothing but a jerk to you.”

“Yeah, well, we hashed out our differences last night.”

“What does that mean?”

“It means we talked.” Trinity sighed. She wasn’t one to kiss and tell. It wasn’t anyone’s business, and she didn’t think Keaton would appreciate it. She wouldn’t like it if he went and blabbed it to all his buddies, though she figured, if asked, he wouldn’t lie. Nor would she, but she didn’t have to spell it out. “We understand each other better.”

“That makes no sense.” Mallary narrowed her stare. “He’s always in your face, telling you how?—”

“He didn’t mean it exactly how I took it.”

“Oh my God. You slept with him, didn’t you?” Mallary’s face hardened as if she’d swallowed cement. Or maybe Botox. Either way, it wasn’t an attractive look.

Trinity said nothing.

“Have you no shame?”

“Now that’s uncalled for,” Trinity said. “I misjudged him as much as he did me. He’s willing to help, and none of them have to. Nor do they believe what everyone is saying. They want the truth as much as we do.”

“Or their version of it.” Mallary leaned against the side of the boat. “I’m not going to tell you who to take as a bed partner, but mark my words, he’s not good enough for you—and seriously, what about Fenton?”

“Fenton? Are you kidding me right now? ”

“No, actually, I’m not,” Mallary said. “He loves you and hasn’t done anything wrong, but you’re too stubborn to even listen.”

“He cheated on me and only wants my father’s money.”

“You’re letting your past experience rule your future,” Mallary said. “Fenton is none of those things. He doesn’t deserve this. Trust me when I say, Keaton doesn’t care about you, and I can’t believe you don’t see that.”

“Why are you so mad at me? And about this? About Fenton, of all things. Why does it matter to you?”

Mallary covered her face and sobbed. Her shoulders bobbed up and down, and she made ugly crying noises. The kind that made her sound like a dying sea cow.

Trinity loved Mallary. She really did. But this was the one part about Mallary’s personality that grated on her nerves. The woman could go from zero to sixty with her emotions faster than Trinity could run in her heels. And Trinity could run a marathon in those suckers, if she had to.

“I’m sorry. I don’t know. I’m just… I just…” Mallary waved her hand. “I got my hopes up. I really thought we’d find the boat and find that there were no jewels down there, so we could prove my brother did nothing wrong except for being a stupid idiot for being out here alone at night.”

Ouch. Trinity had been out there alone. What did that say about her? She wasn’t going to ask that question out loud .

“Come on. Let’s start our safety check, and we can go down one more time,” Trinity said.

“Do we really have to? I mean, we’ve done it twice already.”

Trinity scowled. “Every time you go under, you do a safety check. Don’t ever forget it. That’s how mistakes are made, and people die.”

Mallory sighed. “All right.”

Trinity made her way to the cockpit and found her cell. Barely a signal. But she’d send a text to Keaton anyway. She’d promised, so she quickly shot one off and tucked her phone into the glove box.

The next fifteen minutes were pure hell. All Trinity did was listen to Mallary scoff. She honestly hoped Mallary would never go scuba diving again after all this. She wasn’t cut out for it.

Trinity set her spare tank on the back seat. It was less than half full. She gave the thumbs-up to Mallary and fell back into the water with a splash. The second she hit the ocean, her world felt lighter. Freer. If she could live underwater, she would. It was the most intoxicating thing, next to sex with Keaton. Where the hell did that come from?

Once had been orgasmic. But the second time in the shower, when he’d brought her a mug of coffee? Well, that had been cosmic. He’d been so tender. So thoughtful. So sweet and romantic.

Not at all what she’d expected from a man like Keaton. She’d half expected him to bark out orders during their escapades, not ask if she liked what he was doing. As if her moaning and calling out his name hadn’t given him enough of a hint.

She pushed those thoughts from her mind, flicked on her light, and waved to Mallary. She needed to keep that woman on a short leash.

Speaking of which, she tugged at the one attached to her diver’s buoy. Every so often, she cleared her ears and reminded Mallary to do the same with a hand signal. The deeper they went, the darker it got.

The first few times she’d gone over a hundred feet, she’d thought for sure it would be pitch-black, but much to her surprise, it hadn’t.

She pulled out her compass, checked the surface, and dove deeper. The ocean floor was a little over two hundred feet deep here. This was about five miles from where the Coast Guard had pinned where they believed the boat to have gone down. Seven miles from where she thought she’d seen it.

But the ocean did strange things to boats that sank.

It often took years, decades, even centuries for ships to be found.

She panned her light on the ocean floor. She swam in a twenty-foot zigzag, constantly checking her compass. She didn’t want to get too far from her boat. That would suck.

Mallary swam like a banshee in front of her, looking over her shoulder and then pointing at something.

Slow down. You’re wasting oxygen.

But Mallary did nothing of the sort. She kept on going. She was a faint dark spot in front of Trinity.

Trinity kicked harder, keeping her light pinned on Mallary until she spotted a white and blue object…a boat.

Holy crap. Jackpot. That was it. Jared’s boat. They’d found it.

Mallary twisted and turned and danced in the water. Massive air bubbles moved relentlessly above her head.

Their tanks were already low, and if Mallary wasn’t careful, she’d have to surface before they were ready.

Trinity tried to signal to her to take it easy. They would need to be careful as they swam around the boat, poking around inside. Vessels did strange things while submerged underwater, even sitting on the bottom of the ocean floor. But Mallary wasn’t having any of that. She was off to the races. Dodging in and out. Up and down. She opened the head, and the boat shifted.

Trinity kicked, swimming upward, panic seizing her heart for a moment. She shined the light, searching for her friend. Left. Right. Panning back and forth, and then finally, she found Mallary. Well, her fins anyway, sticking out of the head.

Quickly, she checked her tank. Five minutes, and then they’d have to head up.

Mallary jerked her body. The boat shifted again. A weird howl echoed under the murky water. The vessel might roll completely to its side if they weren’t careful.

Trinity tugged on Mallary’s fin. Thank God, Mallary swam backward. She held up a box. Her eyes were wide as if to say, holy crap. What have I found? Slowly, Mallary lifted the lid, and Trinity’s heart dropped to her toes like an anchor pitching to the depths of the ocean floor.

The jewels from the Flying Victoria .

Gently, Trinity closed the box and pointed toward the surface. As her gaze shifted, she noted the oxygen level on Mallary’s tank.

Crap. She didn’t have enough to safely get back to the top.

Trinity tapped the gauge. She pointed to her own regulator. She’d done this during training but had never had to do it during an emergency. Mallary would likely panic. Trinity put the box in her bag. She held Mallary’s gaze and slowly began to surface. She pointed to Mallary’s tank. Then to her own regulator. Then to Mallary’s mouth. Mallary nodded.

Hopefully, that meant she knew they would be sharing some oxygen at some point. But they needed to decompress. They needed to do it slowly and safely.

They got about seventy-five feet when Mallary’s tank emptied.

Trinity pushed Mallary’s regulator from her mouth and inserted hers. Trinity would have to be in control, and Mallary would have to follow instructions.

This should be fun. Not. Especially with the panic registering in Mallary’s eyes.

Swiftly, Trinity snagged the regulator, and Mallary tried to make a beeline for the surface.

Trinity took in a few breaths, tugging at Mallary. She was a stronger swimmer than Trinity had expected, but she managed to bring Mallary back down to her level and gave her a few breaths before taking it back, ensuring she got the air she needed. She checked the oxygen. This was going to be a close call.

Keaton was going to have her head on a platter, and she didn’t blame him. But he’d have to read Mallary the Riot Act, too.

Trinity made her calculated stops, giving their bodies time to adjust. This was obviously hard for Mallary. It didn’t matter that she was getting enough oxygen. Or that her body was doing what it needed. She was in panic mode and hyped up with adrenaline.

Once Trinity hit approximately sixty feet, she no longer needed to stop, but she continued to ascend slowly, just in case. She had no idea what Mallary’s body could handle.

However, at about thirty feet, Mallary reached for the jewels. Her hands fumbled. Her eyes grew wide as the need for oxygen registered. She turned and hauled ass for the surface—without the box. It remained tucked safely in Trinity’s bag.

Trinity could hold her breath for up to forty-four feet. That was a long-ass dive. It wasn’t easy. Not something she wanted to do regularly, but she’d wanted to know her body’s limits, so she’d tested it with a full oxygen tank. She knew other divers who could do fifty, but they were rock stars.

Taking only the oxygen she needed, she lazily made her way to the surface, clearing her mind of all the horrible things she wanted to say to her dear friend. A few of Keaton’s well-placed angry retorts came to mind. She broke the ocean’s surface and swam about fifty feet away toward the boat. Mallary was already climbing onboard.

She reached the vessel, and her annoyance grew when her friend wasn’t on the back deck to give her a hand. Diving etiquette 101. She hoisted herself up, stood, and gasped, staring down at a masked man holding a shotgun at her chest. “What the hell?” she managed. “Where’s my friend? What have you done with my friend?”

“She’s right here.” Another man shoved Mallary toward the stern. She was still in her wetsuit, her mask on top of her head, but no flippers.

“You have something we want,” the man with the gun said.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.” Trinity swallowed, scanning left and right. There was no other boat in sight. But there had to be one somewhere. She lifted her gaze, but the man waved his weapon, forcing her focus back to him.

“Don’t play dumb. It’s not a good look,” he said.

The other man gave Mallary a good push. She let out a little scream.

“Give me the box,” the man with the gun said. “We know you found it.”

“We have to give it to them.” Mallary climbed onto the back deck. “I’m so sorry,” she whispered, reaching for the bag. “They said they’d kill me.”

“It’s not your fault.” If these men didn’t shoot her first, Keaton was sure to for what she was about to do. “Swim under the boat,” she whispered. She yanked off her tank and leaned over the back bench, holding her breath. With one hand, she grabbed the half-full tank she had as a spare and flung the empty one at the man with the gun.

Bang !

A sharp pain tore through her shoulder. She ignored it and shoved Mallary into the water, flopping in right after her. As quickly as she could manage, she strapped on the tank while swimming under the boat, searching for her friend.

Pop! Pop!

The sound was muffled. But she knew it was the rifle. Bullets tore through the open water, zipping only a few feet from her body.

She continued to search for Mallary, pausing briefly. No sign.

More bullets.

Her heart raced. Panic engulfed her entire being.

She shoved the regulator into her mouth and dove straight down, glancing up every few minutes, trying to gauge sixty feet.

A couple more bullets. Bubbles zipped by one foot from her head.

Shit. That was close.

A splash from above.

A diver.

She hit what she believed was sixty feet and went horizontal, leaving behind a trail of blood. She gave herself a few minutes to adjust, then dove deeper. She kept doing that until she found a cave at the bottom. She slinked inside and hid, checking her oxygen tank. Tears burned her eyes.

What had happened to Mallary? Had she resurfaced? Had they shot her? Pulled her onboard? Oh God, what had Trinity done ?

Surely, if she’d stayed onboard, they both would’ve been dead. But that didn’t make her feel any better.

She checked her tank, and that’s when she realized that, unless those men had brought scuba equipment onboard, they weren’t chasing her because all her other tanks were empty. Inching out of the cave with her shoulder throbbing, she made her way to the surface.

The sun smacked her face. She lifted her mask and spun herself in a circle. Her boat was gone. There was no sign of it—or anyone—in sight. She was miles from shore. It was close to dark.

She might as well be dead in the water.