Page 36 of Doyle

And the sudden, brutal thought hit him—wait,was she going to resign?

He caught up to her, walked beside her, his voice cut low. “Just take a breath. Everything is going to be fine.”

She frowned at him but pursed her lips, nodded.

He retracted the urge to take her hand and followed her up to the powwow. “Stein. Declan.” He gave Austen a side hug in greeting. “What’s going on?”

“You tell us,” said Stein, his arms still folded. “This is Chief Renault DuCasse. He says you were at the S-7 compound.”

Doyle said nothing, the words falling through him like a stone.

“We have a man embedded in the crew,” the chief said. “And he nearly had to blow his cover because of you.”

Oh.

“My fault,” said Tia. “I... had this stupid idea to...” She drew in a breath, looked at Declan. “They broke into the clinic last night and kidnapped two of our kids?—”

“One. Kemar went willingly,” Doyle said, his mouth tight. “Or it looked like it.”

“He stole our new X-ray machine, along with narcotics and the portable ultrasound machine,” Tia continued, not looking at Doyle. “I’m sorry. I?—”

“This is not your fault, Tia,” Declan said. “We can replace the machines. I can’t replace you.” He put a hand on her shoulder.

Funny how his words crested over her, the way she swallowed, a strange vulnerability flashing across her face. Then it vanished, and You’re Not the Boss of Me resettled on her face. Or at least, she faked it well when she said, “I have a plan. Don’t worry—I got this.”

Declan raised an eyebrow. “You let me know how I can help.” He looked at Doyle. “I’m bringing a small private security team in, just for now, until the local police can take down S-7. Next time something like this happens, don’t deal with it yourself—I don’t need to lose you either.”

Funny, the words affected him too, landing in unfamiliar soft soil. “Yes, sir.”

“Good. I’ll see you at the dive this afternoon? And both of you at tonight’s dinner, for the presentation?”

Doyle nodded. Austen walked over to him, put her hands on his shoulders. “Stein is supposed to be the one who scares us.” Then she kissed his cheek and followed Declan to his golf cart.

Tia was looking at him, her expression almost shaken. Then she turned to Indiana Jones. “Can we talk?”

And Doyle didn’t know why, but the words simply grabbed him up and tightened his gut, and he knew, just knew, this wasn’t over.

* * *

“Are you sure you’re okay?”

Ethan Pine gave Tia a searching look as she opened the monastery’s library door. The light filtered in through two tall windows that overlooked the rising volcano, and a slight breeze sifted the gathering humidity of the day, along with the scent of jungle and ocean.

Okay?She’d leftokaysomewhere in the dust back at the S-7 compound. But maybe she would be. She just had to stay strong. “Are you sure that you can find something about theTridenttreasure in here?”

The library contained books donated to the children over the years. She had already found a few of her favorites, a time-travel book calledGhoststhat had ignited her love of history, and of course all of the Walter Farley Black Stallion books, which had prompted her to beg her father (unsuccessfully) for a horse.

Along one wall, old books sat behind glass, the history of the island—and the monastery—bound in cracked leather volumes, along with Bibles and scholarly texts that Hope House had inherited. At least according to Rosa and Anita.

“According to the biography of Henry van der Meer, he kept a journal during his time here and left it behind when he returned to Holland and bought a haberdashery. The haberdashery grew, and today it’s one of Holland’s biggest department-store chains. His family says he started it with a gold-laden azure locket that he said he found during his travels.”

Ethan was a good-looking man, had an adventurer’s aura, save for the round professor glasses, which he pushed up on his nose before reaching for his phone. In a moment, he flashed her a picture of an oval locket. It seemed crafted from a solid piece of burnished gold in a delicate filigree, something she might have seen in a historical photograph. Set in the center was a deep blue stone with veins of light blue, encircled by diamonds. The locket might take up the entire palm of her hand.

“This is called the Duchess’s Locket. It belonged to the Duchess Eleanora Maria of Valmont, a noblewoman from the 1700s, in Prussia. She was the only daughter of the Duke of Valmont and his wife, Duchess Isabella, and was given this on the day of her marriage to Duke Frederic of Middleburg, Holland.”

“It’s gorgeous.”

He pocketed the phone. “The locket was stolen during a trip to New Holland—now Brazil—when their East Indian ship was sacked by theTrident. Henry was a sailor on that ship.”

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