Whirlpool (Cutter Cay Book 6) Read online

  The Cutter Cay series is:

  "Action-packed drama." ―Fresh Fiction

  "Sizzlingly sexy." ―Booklist

  "Enticing." ―Seattle Post-Intelligencer

  A Love For The Ages...

  Secrets & Lies

  Treasure hunter Persephone Case is very good at what she does. But she’s even better at pirating, and the Cutter brothers are her only targets. For years, she’s played a game of cat and mouse in an attempt to get them to confront her. But it isn’t until she meets their new partner—and her wicked one weekend stand, Finn Gallagher, that she’s truly caught.

  Artifacts Worth Killing For

  Billionaire Finn Gallagher has a lot of interests--sunken treasures, space travel--and the fiery redhead who scorched a place in his mind and libido one weekend in Buenos Aires. So imagine his surprise when he finds her onboard his gigayacht, Blackstar, acting as an official for the Ministry of Antiquities. Convenient, because he can’t keep his hands off her.

  An Ancient Prophesy

  Unfortunately, what Persephone can’t seem to keep her hands off of are the golden tablets discovered on the ancient ship wrecks beneath the sea. Relics that foretell a dire prophesy. But Finn and Persephone aren’t the only ones after the tablets. Members of a radical Patagonian sect want the tablets too. And they’ll do anything to get their hands on them. Even kill...

  CONTENTS

  Title

  Overview

  Cherry Adair Book Store

  1

  2

  3

  4

  5

  6

  7

  8

  9

  10

  11

  12

  13

  14

  15

  16

  17

  18

  19

  20

  21

  22

  23

  24

  25

  26

  Epilogue

  Bonus Material

  Cutter Cay News

  Cutter Family

  Cutter Cay Island

  Series Backstory

  Adair Adult Coloring App

  About Cherry Adair

  Mailing List

  Copyright

  Cherry Adair Book Store

  Look For These Thrilling eBooks and Print Books in the Cherry Adair Online Bookstore.

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  CUTTER CAY SERIES

  Undertow

  Riptide

  Vortex

  Stormchaser

  Hurricane

  Whirlpool

  FALLEN AGENTS OF T-FLAC Series

  Absolute Doubt - Book 1

  LODESTONE SERIES

  Afterglow

  Hush - Book 1

  Gideon - Book 2

  Relentless

  T-FLAC/PSI

  Edge of Danger Enhanced

  Edge of Fear Enhanced

  Edge of Darkness Enhanced

  T-FLAC/WRIGHT FAMILY

  Kiss and Tell Enhanced

  Hide and Seek Enhanced

  In Too Deep Enhanced

  Out of Sight Enhanced

  On Thin Ice Enhanced

  T-FLAC/BLACK ROSE

  Hot Ice Enhanced

  White Heat Enhanced

  Ice Cold

  NIGHT TRILOGY T-FLAC/PSI

  Night Fall

  Night Secrets

  Night Shadow

  T-FLAC SHORT STORIES

  Playing for Keeps Enhanced

  Ricochet

  SHORT STORY

  Snowball’s Chance T-FLAC/PSI

  Paranormal

  Dark Prism

  Cherry Adairs’ Writers’ Bible

  Available Exclusively on the Cherry Adair Online Bookstore

  ONE

  Bernardino Rivadavia Natural Sciences Museum

  Buenos Aires

  Argentina

  The exhibit closed yesterday." The raised voice, precise, female and annoyed, came from the shadows at the far end of the long, narrow exhibit hall. Out of sight, packing straw rustled. "It's no longer open to the public.”

  Phineas Gallagher paused just inside the door to the Mystical Treasures From the Sea exhibit, surprised to find someone else there when he'd been told he'd have the place to himself for an hour. Finn wanted to see the artifacts before they were crated and disappeared to God only knew where like the other two similar exhibits.

  He wasn't in the mood to chat with a stranger, nor share the moment. He was on a fact-finding mission, on his way from point A to point C. His pilot had the jet's engines figuratively idling on the tarmac, and a car and his driver waited for him outside the building to whisk him back to the airfield.

  “I’m not the public,” he said shortly, striding across the flotsam and jetsam of loose straw and packing materials littering the marble floor. Stacks of wooden packing crates, some open, some already sealed, were piled haphazardly nearby. Black fabric covered the walls, and freestanding, evenly spaced display cases, most of them dark, ran in two parallel lines from one end of the room to the door where he stood.

  Finn paused to allow his eyes to adjust to the gloom. Interior lights from half a dozen cases fell across the white floor like zebra stripes. The rest of the place was atmospherically in shadow.

  "Unless you work for the museum, which you don't," the woman said crossly, "You're not allowed in here while they're packing up the exhibit." Her high heels struck the hard surface of the floor as she shifted in the shadows, and now Finn was able to see the pale oval of her face illuminated by her white shirt. He doubted a museum collections manager would be wearing high heels during de-installation of an exhibit, and she'd said 'they'

  "Unless you work here," he said, intrigued enough to advance, "which you don't, neither should you." She didn't deny it. So what was she doing back there messing with the crates of packed artifacts if she wasn't employed by the museum?

  "Head's up. Not only is security a yell away, I'm armed, and not afraid to shoot you if you come any closer, or attempt to steal any of the artifacts."

  Her husky voice was American. Tourist? Expat? "I'm not here to steal the artifacts, Annie Oakley." Amused by her threat, Finn narrowed the gap farther with a few more steps. The thought crossed his mind that this could be a setup. Anyone who knew him knew how much he liked a challenge. And the woman's husky voice, and the way she kept herself hidden in the shadows was a tempting lure.

  Still, all he had to do was raise his voice, and his bodyguards, waiting outside, would be inside the room in seconds. Not that he couldn't take down a woman by himself if the need arose. But it wasn't out of the realm of possibility that she was merely the bait, and had other people hidden back there with her. "Just want a quick look. I'll be out of your hair in less than half an hour."

  "Why?"

  "Why will I get out of your hair?"

  She made a derisive noise. "Why did you break in to see this exhibit? Qin Shi Huang's Terracotta Army exhibit is open in the next hall. You should go. It's fascinating."

  He'd seen them in situ. "Not interested. I'm curious about these particular artifacts. There are other concurring Treasures From the Sea touring shows that also closed this week. One at the Muséum National d'Histoire Naturelle in Paris, the other, at the Ditsong National Museum in Jo'burg. I want to see how this one compares. Have you seen either of the others?" Who was she, and what, if anything, was her dogged interest in the Mystical Treasures From the Sea?

  "In Paris and Johannesburg? Of course not."

  "Read about them?"

  "I'm not going for a Ph.D. in Maritime Archeology. I just freaking walked in off the str
eet an hour ago."

  "And you're rummaging through packing crates? You don't think someone would find that odd?"

  "It's none of someone's business."

  Intriguing. "Aren't you curious as to who amassed all these artifacts? Don't you find the lack of specific detail in the descriptions odd?" He sure as hell did.

  "There's plenty of description for each one of them."

  "Only a couple of things missing," Finn said dryly. "The name of the ship on which each was found, and the actual location of the wreck."

  "There's enough pertinent info here for me," she told him. "I wanted to see them for the last time before they were packed up forever."

  "There's a sizable fortune tied up in these touring exhibits. Maybe the artifacts are finally being sold."

  "Maybe."

  "Maybe they were stolen."

  "Maybe."

  "Without provenance, it'll be tough for this mysterious benefactor to get top dollar."

  Finn enjoyed a challenging puzzle, and the identity of the shadowy patron who'd sponsored the lavish exhibits of centuries-old artifacts from various shipwrecks was a puzzle he was determined to unravel. At the moment, however, he was sparring with an enigmatic woman whose throaty voice conjured up candlelight, rumpled sheets and vigorous, sweaty sex.

  Finn attributed his tolerance of the game to his feelings of restlessness for the past few months. He frequently felt as though he was hurtling at a breakneck speed toward an unknown destination without knowing where or what the fuck that destination was. This interaction was a momentary respite.

  "There's a mysterious benefactor?"

  Finn frowned, half annoyed, half amused by the exchange. Straw flew from the shadows like a snow flurry. What the hell was she doing back there? "Of all three exhibits."

  "If you say so. Clearly, money wasn't the motivation for sharing these artifacts with the public."

  There were still a few relics in the lit cases. Finn paused to glance at a jeweled gold chalice, a heavily embossed, six-inch gilded silver flask, and a silver-hilted ceremonial dagger. Five minutes ago, the pieces would've elicited interest, but now it was her siren's voice that drew him.

  She muttered, "Ow. Shit."

  He smiled. "Are you packing or unpacking?"

  "Neither."

  He paused at a case to look at a suite of gold and emerald jewelry as she muttered another curse and wood struck wood as though she'd slammed the lid on a box. For all he knew she was back there pilfering the artifacts herself. He didn't give a shit what she was doing. Just wished she was doing it somewhere else. "I don't suppose you can come back in fifteen minutes?"

  "I was here first."

  "Can't argue that. Need help back there?"

  "No thanks. Get your looking done, then check out the soldiers next door. They were buried with new, and fully functional military equipment. Go take a look at the crossbows, swords, lances, halberds- "

  "Subtle." It had been a long time since anyone had tried to get rid of him.

  "It's an excellent exhibit."

  "Hmm."

  The next display case was dark, but the one across from it was lit, and Finn strolled over to see what it held. A two-thousand-year-old pickle jar and a bunch of Carthaginian bronze coins. Not that interesting. He considered offering her money to get out and leave him alone. But since what he'd seen so far proved his point that the artifacts here were similar to what he'd seen in the other two, and didn't answer his questions of who the sponsor was, he didn't bother. This side trip was proving to be a waste of time.

  Most of his hands-on business ventures seemed to have reached a simmering point simultaneously. He was heavily invested in the upcoming salvage with the Cutters. Four brothers who'd made names for themselves by salvaging, and selling, invaluable artifacts they'd fished from the seas. Much like the artifacts displayed here at the museum. He was confident his money was in good hands.

  The anticipation of the upcoming salvage, the new corporate acquisition he was finalizing, coupled with the top-secret rocket launch in a few months, should be plenty enough to keep him entertained. Yet something was missing.

  Driven, he'd spent the better part of his life trying to fill a void he couldn't name. Maybe his subconscious needed a vacation from all the intellectual, brainiac work. He'd been climbing two-thousand feet to the summit of Siula Grande, in Peru for the last couple of weeks. Long enough for his ship, Blackstar, to sail from South Africa to South America to rendezvous with the Cutter’s dive ships off the coast of Patagonia.

  Finn lived onboard and ran his multinational company from the three-hundred and fifty-foot gigayacht. The Blackstar Group was the umbrella held over four hundred companies, in more than thirty countries. The Group showcased Finn's diverse interests. From new forms of energy, to a game reserve, to his passion: space travel.

  "What are you doing?"

  "Looking at this embossed sword." Trying to figure out who you are, and what the hell you're doing back there.

  "Why are you so interested in these particular artifacts?"

  He was halfway down the length of the hall, but she had yet to emerge. “Curiosity.” Now he was curious about her. "The artifacts are rare, of significant historical value and priceless," he said easily, as he attempted to get more than a shadowy glimpse of her face. "Someone possesses enough relics to support three traveling exhibits circling the globe at the same time. Aren't you curious about the mystery backer? Clearly, the artifacts interest you, too." A thought occurred, "You're not the benefactor, are you?" he asked, as more straw flew.

  "If I were, I'd be lying on a beach somewhere with hot and cold running waiters bringing me umbrella drinks as I work on my tan," she said, sounding amused. "We're both too late. As you see, pretty much all the pieces have already been dismantled and packed."

  "Are you going to hide back there until I leave then?" He'd already walked halfway to where she hid in the shadows, and she'd made no move to show herself.

  "You're Irish."

  Not only did she have a good ear, she was damn good at not answering questions. "East Coast?" Boston?

  "Not specifically," she responded, unhelpfully. "And I'm not hiding. I'm back here looking."

  Move into the light so I can see you.

  Whatever she said after that was muffled by the blood thrumming through his veins as she emerged from the darkness.

  Finn's heart stopped. Time slowed.

  Bloody hell. A shock of awareness surged from his head to his toes. Then settled in between. His heart resumed beating. Harder. Faster. She stole the breath from his lungs. She was stunning. Striking. Almost otherworldly. Tall and slender, she wore jeans too tight to conceal a weapon, and an open-necked white shirt. Pulling off white cotton gloves, she strolled from shadow into light sliding a smartphone into the back pocket of her jeans. Had she been back there taking pictures, or calling the cops? One thing he knew for damn sure- she'd been handling the packed artifacts.

  But whatever the hell she'd been doing two minutes ago was immaterial, as Finn's breath snagged in his lungs. The glossy spill of her hair, falling well past her shoulders, was orange flame, mixed with the red fire found deep inside an active volcano. He wanted to feel the silky glide of her long hair over his throat, over his thighs.

  The mind was a cybernetic system, it needed a targeted goal. He'd just found that goal. As his heartbeat accelerated, his vision tunneled, until all he saw was her. Only her.

  Lust at first sight. He didn't realize he'd closed the distance between them until he was engulfed in the heady fragrance of her skin and hair. Casablanca lilies. As cool a color as her hair looked hot. He wanted to drown in the scent of her.

  Her profile was delicate, straight nose, slender neck- and all that hair. Hair made to be tangled in a man's fists.

  Hyperawareness. Instant attraction magnified to the nth degree. Finn's muscles tensed as his blood pressure rose. His balls tightened. All his senses heightened. He had the mad urge to scoop her up and ca
rry her to his lair like a horny fucking caveman. He wanted to peel her out of her clothes. Wanted to fill his hands with her breasts, wanted her to wrap his naked body in all that gorgeous, flaming hair.

  Intoxicated by the scent, it took all his self-control to keep his hands off her. With her incredible hair waving down her back, she looked as sensual, as exotic as a mermaid.

  "History is fascina--Hey!" Startled, she turned to look at him as, unable to check the compulsion, Finn ran his hand down the length of her hair from crown to the small of her back. The strands felt thick, heavy, silky and cool to the touch.

  She stiffened. But the sudden flush, and bloom of goosebumps on her throat and the V of exposed chest, showed she wasn't unaffected. "What the hell do you think you're do ..." her voice trailed off.

  Allowing his fucking impulses to run amok was what he was doing. This was not the behavior of a perfect stranger, nor the behavior of a man in his right mind. He'd been attracted to women many times, but not like this. Nothing like this. Seeing her had turned him on, but touching her ratcheted up a primal need. He felt crazed, reckless, and horny as hell.

  Their eyes locked. Braced for recognition, he held a disappointed breath. If she knew who he was, it was game over.

  She wet her lips as if to moisten a mouth suddenly gone dry. "You’re awfully freaking handsy for a total stranger.” Her voice had turned huskier, lower, more aware.

  A tilt of her head and their mouths could touch.

  Ah, Jesus, she smelled so good he almost groaned out loud. Pheromones. It was as if the very essence of her had bonded to his DNA. Unprecedented. "You feel it, too." How could she not be experiencing the same mind-blowing attraction that he felt?

  "Right now, I'm feeling. . ." She shrugged. "A little overwhelmed, to put it mildly. It's as if I just gulped a cup of Death Wish coffee, and I'm dangerously over-caffeinated."