Stormchaser Read online

  Thanos brought the tender up to the dive platform where Jonah was meeting Vaughn and Saul, as Callie and Leslie were suiting up to go down.

  Callie was in the process of tugging on her wet suit, but since it was only at her knees, he had the opportunity to enjoy the view. Her long legs were toned and sleek from years of swimming, her narrow waist just the right size to circle with both hands. The sight of her breasts, although flattened by the racing-style black swimsuit, made his mouth water.

  The scent of coconut would always be associated in his mind with silky skin, pale Caribbean-turquoise eyes, and a sassy mouth he wanted to nibble.

  Bent over, Callie glanced up to see him standing there like a teenage boy, dick in his hand. If not literally, certainly metaphorically. The tender bumped the platform with a soft thud. Vaughn and Saul seemed to have materialized beside him, but he’d been so busy eating up every inch of Callie, he’d been oblivious to the activity around him.

  She frowned at him.

  Jonah smiled back. He didn’t regret telling her he wanted her. It was true. He’d hoped, however, that it would clear the air a bit. Negatory. The way she looked at him was still distant and closed.

  “Last chance to meet the crazies on Fire Island,” he offered, keeping his tone light with effort as she efficiently finished getting into tight black neoprene. Almost as good as seeing her naked. Except with no skin showing.

  Nope. Not nearly as good as naked, but as close as he’d ever get.

  The thought was depressing as hell.

  As she pulled the cord to draw up the zipper in back, she said under her breath so only he could hear, “Stop looking at me like that.” Decidedly unfriendly.

  He gave her an innocent look. “Like what?” Like I want to strip you naked?

  “Like—” She hesitated, but he imagined he saw the thought of them together in the heated flash of her eyes. Wishful thinking, Jonah knew. “Never mind.” She lowered herself to sit on the edge of the platform beside Leslie.

  It was the fact that she was so damn unattainable that made Callie so alluring, Jonah knew. Being this aroused, for this long, around a woman was unnatural and—damn it to hell—painful. He had to get his hormones in check. He hadn’t taken himself in hand this much since he was thirteen and discovered his dick.

  It had to stop. He had to make it stop. “I can’t modulate how I look as well as how I think.”

  Shit. And not flirt.

  Callie turned her head to give him a cool look as she got ready to pull on her mask. “Even a five-year-old can multitask, Cutter. Give it your best shot.” She turned to Leslie. “Ready?”

  Leslie looked from Jonah to Callie and back again. “And miss the show?”

  “There isn’t any show. We just rub each other the wrong way. Eventually we’ll get used to each other’s hot buttons and not get on each other’s nerves.”

  Leslie swung her crossed ankles over the water as she adjusted her mask before putting it on. “Is that what it is?”

  Callie shrugged. “Oil and water.”

  “Ready to rock-and-roll?” Saul asked Jonah, already seated with Vaughn on the smaller boat.

  No surprise that the two women didn’t want to accompany them to Fire Island. The last thing sh—they wanted to do was go ashore. She wanted to go back down and get started on documenting the city, and Leslie had decided to stay and get another dive in, too.

  Brody hadn’t been given any options. Jonah was trying to decide if it was worth keeping him on. He was an excellent diver, and would be an asset if he’d get his shit together and stop drinking. Drinking and ships did not mix. One misstep and a drunk could drown without anyone noticing his absence until it was too late. A life lost and a fucking headache of a liability.

  Logan would be righteously pissed at all that paperwork. Jonah grinned. Yeah, better not piss off his new big brother just yet.

  “I hope that smile doesn’t have anything to do with a certain married lady,” Saul ventured as they headed out away from Stormchaser toward the smudge of the island in the distance. “She doesn’t seem like a woman who takes her vows lightly.”

  Jesus. He was that obvious? Not cool. “As a heart attack. I’m good with that.” Good thing he wasn’t Pinocchio. His nose, as well as his dick, would be a yard long by now. “Strictly hands off, but it doesn’t hurt to enjoy the scenery, does it?”

  “Better keep those sunglasses on when you’re around her, then,” Saul suggested drily, sitting on the padded bench in the prow. “The way you look at Dr. West is enough to melt Gorilla Glass.”

  “I’ll have to train my eyes to be more circumspect from now on,” Jonah said with a slight frown. It was unconscionable that anyone knew how badly he lusted for Callie. It wasn’t fair to either of them, but especially not to her. He’d never cross that line in the sand. The last thing he wanted to do was make her feel uncomfortable.

  He was uncomfortable enough for both of them.

  It didn’t take long to reach the small island. It rose this morning, a clearly visible cone of black rock covered in a skirt of verdant green, from the slight ripples on the sun-dappled water. But then the clarity underwater would be spectacular, too. He immediately imagined Callie gliding through the water, the ultimate water nymph—seductive as hell.

  Promises, he reminded himself. Hands off. But despite her directive, and Saul’s astute observation, Jonah knew he couldn’t keep his eyes off her. Bad as it was that he had his nose pressed to the candy shop window, to close his eyes and cut off that treat was beyond him. Sunglasses would be required for the duration of their voyage. He just had no fucking clue how he was supposed to accomplish that with a goddamn dive mask on.

  As they got closer, Jonah smelled the tangy scent of wild oregano, peppery and sharp. Three swallows dipped and drifted on the thermals alongside the boat for a few minutes, then peeled off like the Blue Angels, heading for the island.

  Hilly, lots of trees and shrubs, but no structures he could see save for the small cement breakwater-dock combo they angled toward. The place was pristine. Au naturel. Deserted. Except for the small fishing boat bobbing on the water. Thanos angled the Riva behind it.

  Jumping out of the boat, Jonah caught the line and proceeded to tie up as Vaughn and Saul joined him on what passed for a dock. The air smelled strongly of an old catch mixed with brine and oregano and a hint of wild thyme.

  Heat shimmied up from the concrete structure and it was barely nine a.m. He’d rather be underwater right now. They hadn’t been long enough at sea for a trip to shore to be appealing. Still, the old guys had aroused his curiosity, and he could spare an hour to see what they were all about.

  He finished tying up to the cleat on the dock. “Stay put,” he instructed Thanos, who waved his okay and sat on the bench seat to wait in the shade of the canopy. “This shouldn’t take long.”

  Sunlight bounced off the water. A deep, dark blue here, not like the crystal-clear turquoise waters at Cutter Cay. The same color as Callie’s eyes.

  I need to get laid. Jonah mentally riffled through the women he knew within a thousand-mile radius. Dr. West was fast becoming an obsession, and wanting, no matter how badly, wasn’t getting. He could control the lust by taking the edge off. Maybe that would negate the strong feelings he had for her. God, he hoped so.

  He’d get out his little black book when he got back to Stormchaser.

  “Not exactly a bustling metropolis.” Saul pulled his baseball cap down to shade his eyes as he looked around. “You sure those guys said this island?”

  Jonah looked around. “Maybe there are buildings on the other side.”

  Vaughn shoved his hands in the front pocket of his shorts and looked around, as unimpressed as Jonah. “Maybe.”

  The island was small, ten, fifteen miles square at most. No buildings that he could see. The land sloped up, a series of gently rolling, tree-covered hills, toward the flat-topped volcano slightly off center, surrounded by dense vegetation.

  “I had
an old prof who used to say, ‘Beware a quiet volcano,’” Saul said, indicating the one in front of them.

  Vaughn glanced that way and shrugged. “Looks pretty dodo-ish, doesn’t it?”

  “Couple of centuries, give or take,” Jonah agreed. “If anyone lives here they’re keeping a low profile. Most people would build their home here on the leeward side on that bluff overlooking the water. Perhaps my elderly visitors are visiting Fire Island. Although I can’t begin to imagine those guys camping. Let’s get to the top of the rise and see what we can see.”

  In retrospect, it was pretty damn funny that he’d been spooked by the old men’s visit yesterday. Here, with the smell of the sea, the sharp lemony scent of thyme, and the sun already promising to be hotter later, he realized that surprise had made him more susceptible to their superstitious behavior than his normal pragmatic self.

  “I see a particularly aggressive shrub over there. Maybe we should have come armed,” Saul teased, falling into step with Jonah and Vaughn. Maybe not everyone on the island was as old as Methuselah. They’d discussed bringing some heat, which Jonah kept in a safe on board, but in the end opted not to carry weapons.

  The hair on the back of Jonah’s neck prickled as if sensing danger. But if that was the case it sure as shit wasn’t evident out here in the open. The day was clear, sunny, and decidedly nonthreatening.

  He suspected the whole Callie/married/off-limits/horny-as-hell thing had all his senses wound into a tight overimaginative knot. Throw in some woo-woo old guys dressed from head to toe in black. Mix in some dire threats to their safety, and he had a recipe for his imagination to take flight.

  Rubbing the back of his neck, Jonah forced his shoulders to relax. “This all feels rather anticlimactic after their big buildup yesterday—” Two figures emerged from the tree line some two hundred yards ahead.

  “Three o’clock,” Vaughn said quietly.

  “Got it.” Jonah had seen the black-garbed men moments before the others noticed them. “How’s your Greek?” He only knew the basics.

  “I speak some.” Vaughn took his hands out of his shorts pockets as if he was getting ready to defend himself.

  Saul looked ready to head back to the tender at a run as he said, “I understand it better than I speak it.”

  The men made no move to approach them, merely stood stoically, hands tucked into voluminous sleeves of their black robes as they waited at the tree line.

  Jonah continued walking up the dirt path at a leisurely pace, Vaughn and Saul flanking him.

  “You notice there’s not a damn thing here but rocks and trees, right?” Vaughn observed, looking around.

  “They came from somewhere.” Jonah kept his eye on the men waiting for them. It had taken a good ten minutes to walk up the slope, but they still hadn’t moved. “Those aren’t the guys who came on board.”

  They came abreast of the old men. “Greetings, Kyrie Cutter.” The man’s rheumy eyes flicked to Vaughn, then Saul, then back to Jonah. “There is transportation. This way.”

  “Is it far?” Jonah asked as one man fell behind them while the other led the way. It was slow going. Like the others, these two were well into their eighties, at least, and the one in front moved as though every bone in his frail body ached.

  Jonah raised his voice. “How far do we have to go?” Since the man didn’t respond, he figured he was extremely hard of hearing, or didn’t speak English.

  The transportation, as he saw when they breached the rise, was three moth-eaten-looking donkeys. The men exchanged a few words, and the leader gestured for them to climb aboard. Jonah wondered if they’d known he was accompanied by Vaughn and Saul, or if the three beasts were for the two of them and him. When the old men made no move to mount up, he figured the donkeys were for guests only. Whoever their employer was, he was a jackass to make these old coots walk their guests to wherever the hell in this heat. “You’ll walk?”

  One of the old men shook his head, the cowl of his heavy robe half shading his face. “Stay.”

  A glance around showed exactly what they’d seen ten minutes ago. Hills, vegetation, sky, volcano. “How will we get to where we’re going?”

  The guy who’d brought up the rear pointed. “Gaidaro know.”

  “The donkeys know the way?”

  The man nodded.

  “Okay, let’s see where they take us.” Jonah flung a leg over the beast, a small cloud of musty dust rising from its back. “Jesus—” he laughed, trying to fold his long legs so they didn’t drag along the ground as the animal took off with no urging from him.

  He grabbed the scrubby mane, a stiff broom-like ridge along the donkey’s neck, and held on for dear life. It was like riding a particularly odoriferous dirt bike—with no shocks. The damn thing trotted along the path at such a quick clip that his teeth slammed together. His spine was getting a workout. He’d ridden a horse three times in his life. And this wasn’t even close. He hadn’t enjoyed riding a horse, but at least that had some kind of a rolling gait to it. This was just bone jarring and he was pretty damn sure he wasn’t going to remember this ride fondly, either.

  “Either of you ever ridden before?”

  “Not one of these,” Vaughn said, his voice vibrating with the uneven ride.

  “Outside the mall when I was about si—Whoa! Whoa, I tell you! Whoa, you little shit!” Saul’s donkey decided to take the lead, jogging ahead, and his voice drifted over his head as he galloped past Jonah and Vaughn. “Holy Mother of God, are these things trying to kill us?”

  “Think they’re that smart?” Jonah said, amused. He’d never father any children after this. He’d definitely opt to walk back. All three animals slowed after cresting a rise. In the shallow dip of a narrow valley below was a cluster of mud-colored houses.

  “We’ve arrived. And other than sprained dicks, all in one piece,” Jonah marveled, tone wry. He dropped his feet to the ground, leaving the donkey to its own devices. “I’m walking from here.” Jonah shoved his donkey’s head away from him as the beast tried to nuzzle his neck.

  “Christ, I thought we’d never get off these damn things,” Saul groaned, swinging a leg over his donkey’s back. He bent over, hands on his knees.

  “Looks abandoned,” Vaughn observed, not looking back as his mount hightailed it over the hill the way they’d come.

  The village, consisting of several dozen houses, was tucked neatly between valleys. Unlike most Greek or Turkish homes, which were painted in stark white or brilliant hues, the buildings here were made from, or coated with, the local soil, camouflaging the buildings into the terrain.

  “Yeah,” Jonah agreed, heading down the hill, his feet kicking up dust, the two men on his heels. Waving away a buzzing fly, he wondered why the sight of the sleepy settlement made the hair on the back of his neck stand up.

  Seven

  Excited and awed, Callie examined a large roundish object, severely corroded and covered in a cement-like concretion, which she’d just uncovered on the seafloor. God—the day couldn’t be more perfect. Ideal diving conditions, and the discovery of artifact after amazing artifact. Idiotic, but she wished Jonah were there to share the finds with her. So far this morning she’d discovered a fully intact marble head, indicating the body was somewhere. A dozen amphorae, several utensils, and this large—intriguing—something.

  She peered at it more closely. Holy crap! Was that a gear wheel mostly hidden by the concretion? She flagged the location for later collection. She was dying to get it into the lab to clean it and see exactly what it was.

  “Les? Come and see this…” It took Callie several seconds to realize Leslie wasn’t close by. Looking around, she didn’t see the other woman anywhere, although the water was clear and visibility good. “Where are you?” she said, not bothering to keep the censure out of her voice. She might’ve been distracted, but Leslie shouldn’t have gone off on her own. She’d put both of them in danger by doing so.

  “You know the cave Vaughn found yesterday?” T
he other woman’s voice was high with excitement. “Well, I’m inside, and you won’t beli—” The feed crackled and died.

  “Damn,” Callie said more to herself than to her dive partner. As focused as she was, if her partner was in trouble, she had to find her PDQ. Remembering where the lava tube was that Vaughn had mentioned, she swam in that direction. Diving partners were always supposed to stay within sight distance of each other. It was one the basic rules taught to get an open-water dive certification. Callie had been so distracted she hadn’t even noticed her partner’s disappearance.

  They were both to blame.

  “Leslie?” She waited a minute for a response. Nothing but static. Thanos had to get these mikes to work and soon. “Can you hear Leslie?” she asked Maura, who was on board monitoring them through her mike.

  “Negative.”

  “I’ll find her. Stay tuned.” Since it was an open mike, Maura could hear anything the divers said, but Callie said it anyway.

  She cast a regretful glance backward. The treasure-filled ruins pulled at her like a powerful magnet would metal filings, but she kept swimming until she found the entrance to what looked like a giant cave in the cliff face. The small underwater mountain was a giant lava deposit that had cooled, then been covered over and over by hot magma. The opening near the base was at least twenty feet high, at least half that in width, and ridged with “bathtub rings.” It disappeared into the darkness up ahead.

  A lava tube wasn’t nearly as interesting as what she’d just left a few minutes earlier. “Leslie?” Callie skimmed her powerful flashlight around the opening. The golden circle bounced off the rough curved surface of the tube but couldn’t penetrate the darkness at the far end.

  The channels were conduits through which an active, low-viscosity lava flow developed a hard crust as it traveled beneath the heated lava. Some channels, she knew, were forty or fifty miles long. She hoped Leslie hadn’t taken it upon herself to explore on her own.