Page 30 of All That Glitters in Pelican Point

She glances back at me over her shoulder, her eyes dancing with merriment. "Bullshit." Crystal finds me amusing. I guess there are worse things a guy can be. Comic relief and sex god to a brilliant historian... doesn't sound like a bad gig.

"Maybe, but effective."

Before she can answer, the crew boat pulls alongside. Denny’s at the helm, but he’s not alone. There’s someone beside him—tall, broad-shouldered, muscular and dressed like a guy who owns too many denim shirts and not enough sunscreen. He hops onto Serenity like he belongs here, waving at Crystal like they’re old friends. I tense.

"Ryan?" she says, surprised.

The guy grins. "Long time no see, Dr. Evans." He shakes his head. "I didn't think you’d actually find the damn thing."

Crystal stares. Then her eyebrows shoot up. "You funded this?"

Ryan shrugs. "Sort of. Anonymously. I had a hunch you were the only one smart enough to get close. I just didn’t count on the side quests."

"Side quests?" I echo, stepping forward, my voice edged with suspicion.

My protective instinct flares hard and fast as I study the man in front of me more closely. Ryan Murphy--former SEAL, billionaire. I’ve heard of him—mostly by reputation. Venture capitalist, big fish in petroleum exploration, development and urban redevelopment circles--supposedly the kind of guy who finances restoration projects with one hand and wrangles global investors with the other.

We’ve crossed paths once at a veterans gala in Key West, but it didn’t go beyond the stiff handshake and polite nod. Still, I remember his presence—commanding, calculating. Now that I’m seeing the whole picture, the anonymous backer with deep pockets and oddly specific timing? Of course it’s him. And it’s starting to make a lot more sense.

"You sent her into this mess blind?"

"I sent her equipped," Ryan says, not unkindly. "I sent her you. I figured between the two of you, you'd find the damn thing and stay safe."

Crystal cocks her head. "What made you so sure?"

"I know both of you by reputation. Denny and Mike Rowley swore up and down that you were the only ones crazy and capable enough to pull this off. And Cruz—we’ve met before, briefly, at that Key West veterans gala, remember? You looked like you wanted to punch half the room. I've followed your salvage work since—impressive. Still, betting on the recommendations of a jarhead and a Ranger might not have been the safest investment... but clearly, it paid off.

A cool patrician blonde appears from below deck of the crew boat, apparently clueless as to what has been going on. Unless I miss my guess, she would be Candace Prescott, Ryan Murphy's romantic partner. She's laughing and clutching a champagne bottle. "Oh God, are you playing matchmaker again?"

Ryan drops to one knee. "Baby, I just want everyone else to be as happy as we are. Cruz, toss me the ring."

Shaking my head, I do as requested with a grin. Only Ryan Murphy would ask someone to toss him a priceless artifact while kneeling on my boat.

Catching it easily, he says to Crystal, "You found history." He refocuses his attention on Candace. "And I found the one thing more valuable."

Candace gasps. "Ryan—what are you?—?"

He holds up the Mar Azul ring, allowing it to gleam in the sun like it knew this was the endgame all along—like it was waiting for this exact moment, in this exact place, to fulfill a purpose older than any of us. The intricate blue-green stone pulses with reflected light, casting fractured color across Candace’s awestruck face. It doesn’t just shine—it radiates, like it’s proud to be part of something bigger than gold or glory. Like it knows it’s found its way home.

"It’s not treasure," he says. "It’s a promise. Marry me, Candace."

Candace nods and allows Mike to help her from the crew boat to the Serenity. She is speechless, her eyes glossy as Ryan stands and holds the ring out in front of her.

"I'm going to need a binding verbal commitment before you get the ring," teases Ryan.

Candace grabs it and places it on her third finger. "Give me my ring, jackass."

The entire boat erupts into cheers and laughter. Denny does an exaggerated bow, basking in his own theatrical flair. I raise an eyebrow at Crystal as I move toward her. She looks momentarily stunned—like she just got hit by every emotion on the spectrum, then wrapped them up in her favorite leather journal for later dissection. Her jaw moves slightly, like she’s trying to formulate a response, but all she does is blink. Then smile. Soft, hesitant, completely unguarded.

"Wasn't that romantic?" she whispers as she leans into me.

"You okay?" I ask, keeping my tone casual, even though everything in me is dialed in on her.

For a moment, she glances out toward the horizon, like she’s trying to reset her brain. When she turns back to me, her voice is tight around the edges. "That was… not what I expected today."

She nods slowly, then lets out a breath that sounds like it’s been building since sunrise. "Yeah. I think we just got emotionally punked by a billionaire in denim."

I chuckle, although it sounds a little more defensive than I'd like it to. "Welcome to my world, but don't get any ideas."

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