Page 2 of All That Glitters in Pelican Point

“Mike Rawley,” he says, stepping on board my boat, extending his hand. I ignore it. “Commander Devlin…”

“I’m not with the Navy anymore. Cruz will do.”

He nods. “Understood. I came across a military blog called ‘Where Are They Now?’ and saw the picture of you and your beautiful boat. I’m working on a new reality TV series about diving for sunken treasure and thought you’d be perfect. You’ve got the background, the track record and God knows you’ve got the looks.”

“Your point?”

“Let me put it like this… I can make you a star.”

“I don’t want to be a star…” I say, turning away.

“How about I can make you rich?”

I stop, turn, and grin at him. “I could handle rich…”

Mike launches into his spiel and the next thing I know, he’s rattling off potential names for the series and thusFrom SEAL to Salvage: The Rogue Diveris born.

It isn’t just the money, although that certainly sounds good, but the idea of being able to make a living diving for treasure, living on my boat and sailing all over the world with all of my expenses covered, and a guaranteed base salary holds a lot of appeal. I figure if it lasts for one season—hell, one dive—it’ll be good.

Turns out, Mike was right. I become a brand and find myself getting expensive haircuts and lifting a lot of weights to keep my washboard abs and muscular arms and legs in camera-ready shape. I have the Serenity mostly to myself as the camera crew has their own boat that follows me. It’s kind of a lark, but I put in my time as a SEAL. It may be a bit superficial, but it’s not a bad way to make a living… not bad at all.

* * *

RYAN

"I can't believe you're doing this," screeches my kid sister Emma as she bursts into my office, followed by my assistant.

"It's okay Hailey," I say, waving my assistant off. "Emma is kind of a force of nature. You'd do just as well to stand at the edge of the dock and shout at a hurricane."

I was halfway through Crystal Evans' guest lecture at Caltech when Emma burst into the shared office space Candace and I renovated from one of the old dockside warehouses.

We gutted the place last spring and turned the entire ground floor into sleek glass-walled offices with a shared conference space in the middle and a wall-to-wall view of the harbor you can't ignore even if you try. We live upstairs now—Candace insisted on high ceilings and open beams—and I have to admit, it’s the best move we ever made. She's out at one of the redevelopment sites today.

I'm in here, deep in my secret research on theMar Azulring, when Emma barges in like I’ve just lit something on fire.

Flopping down in one of my chairs, she glares at me. “You’re really going to send Cruz Devlin to chase theMar Azulring so you can use it to propose?”

I don’t look up from my laptop. “Correct.”

“Cruz Devlin; the television star."

"Former SEAL."

"You say tomato... and you’re pairing him with a woman he’s never met. A historian you found online.”

“She’s not just any historian,” I say, clicking through another article. “She’s the top of her field. Crystal Evans has published inMaritime Quarterlyand dismantled two major pirate hoaxes before she turned twenty-five.”

Emma raises an eyebrow. “You mean the Crystal Evans I’ve followed on social media for three years? The one who shuts down conspiracy theorists in the comments and picks apart 18th-century naval logs for fun?”

“That’s the one.”

Emma blinks. “You’ve been stalking her.”

“Researching,” I correct.

She makes a noise that says she doesn’t buy it for a second. “Again, tomato. So let me get this straight. You're sending Cruz to retrieve a legendary ring for your proposal to Candace, and you’re pairing him with a woman you’re secretly hoping will... will what? Make him seem less of a player? Make him less... feral?”

I lean back in my chair, glancing at my laptop as Crystal gestures through her talk like the stage belongs to her. Passionate. Exacting. Zero tolerance for nonsense.

---