Page 31 of Fake Dating the SEAL
“Just like it sounds. Probably where a ship bounced, hit, while tossed about by the sea. The actual wreck is most likely somewhere else… not far. If my calculations are right, the wreck should be in this new area.” The kid raised his gaze to the horizon and Kenny followed looking in the same direction.
Then he saw it. A ship a few miles off their port side. Far enough to not be an issue. Close enough to monitor what the Thornes were doing. And if Nick and Billy were correct, that boat belonged to Julian Vance. They weren’t even trying to be subtle. It was a lazy, arrogant shadow, and every instinct in Kenny’s body went on high alert.
Leaning beside him, Sara followed his gaze, her easy smile faltering slightly. “That’s them?”
He nodded. “Looks like it.”
Her eyes met his, and in them he saw not fear or concern, but a flicker of shared purpose. She gave a small, sharp nod, and inthat silent exchange, she wasn’t just his fake date anymore. She was his partner on this dive.
The plan was simple: the Thornes would search their designated grid near the reef drop-off, and he and Sara would dive the area, take in the scenery, and keep an eye open, just in case.
As he geared up, the familiar clicks of buckles and the hiss of regulators grounded him. This was his world. Sara checked her divers watch, her wrist compass, and the gauges on her tanks before strapping her diver’s knife onto her calf. Had any woman ever looked so beautiful? He hefted her tanks, helped her secure them, then gave a thumbs-up, and she returned it, her eyes bright with anticipation above her regulator. With a nod, she executed a smooth back roll from the rail and headed down.
For Kenny, dropping beneath the surface was like entering another dimension. The noisy world of wind and engines vanished, replaced by a profound, muffled silence broken only by the rhythmic sound of his own breathing. Sunlight pierced the turquoise water in shifting, golden shafts, illuminating a world of impossible beauty. Schools of sun-yellow tangs streamed past them like liquid confetti. A majestic green sea turtle drifted by with ancient indifference. Below them, a sprawling tapestry of coral in a hundred shapes and colors teemed with life.
He kept Sara in his peripheral vision at all times. She moved through the water with the effortless grace of someone who’d been born to it, her red hair a vibrant flag in the electric blue. He swam slightly above and behind her, a position that gave him a clear view of her and their surroundings. It was a habit born from years of watching his teammates’ backs, but with Sara, it felt different. It felt personal.
She caught his eye and pointed, her gloved finger indicating a grumpy-looking puffer fish trying to hide under a ledge. Whenit puffed up indignantly, she brought her hands to her mask in a gesture of mock surprise, bubbles escaping her regulator in a short burst that looked suspiciously like a laugh. He couldn’t help but smile. Here, in the silent beauty of his world, her playful spirit was just as captivating. This was what it felt like, he realized. Their two worlds, his and hers, melding perfectly—too bad it was time to ascend. He gestured with his thumb to the surface, and with a nod, the two slowly made their way toward the light. If he had his druthers, this day would never end.
Breaking the surface felt like leaving a cathedral. Sara pulled her regulator from her mouth and treaded water beside Kenny, both of them blinking in the sudden brightness of the afternoon sun.
“That was incredible,” her voice carried across the calm water to where the Thornes waited on their boat.
One by one, they climbed the boat’s ladder, the sudden weight of their tanks a grounding reality. On deck, Sara and Kenny shed their tanks and BCDs, the familiar routine of post-dive gear management giving Sara time to process what she’d just experienced. Diving with Kenny had felt different from any dive she’d done before. The way he’d positioned himself slightly above and behind her, always keeping her in sight, had made her feel protected without being crowded. Professional, but personal.
Mrs. Thorne appeared with a plate of fresh pineapple and mango slices, along with bottles of water. “Fuel up.” She flashed a warm smile. “The kids are dying to show you what they brought up.”
“Anything interesting down there?” the professor asked, his eyes twinkling like a kid on Christmas morning.
“Just a very grumpy puffer fish and the most beautiful coral I’ve ever seen,” Sara laughed, pulling off her fins and shaking the water from her ears.
“Wait until you see what we found this morning,” Chloe called out, her excitement bubbling over.
The professor followed his daughter to the table covered with a towel. Gently lifting the towel, a display of artifacts greeted them.
Sara’s breath caught as she took in the collection—pieces of broken pottery, tarnished pewter utensils, and what looked like the remains of a ceramic plate with part of a ship’s crest still visible, but even Sara knew not enough of the crest to confirm what ship they’d found.
“This is from the galley.” Kurt’s voice was tight with excitement.
“The San Isidro,” Chloe added, carefully picking up a fragment of pottery. “We’re actually looking at pieces from a 300-year-old shipwreck.”
“We’re not sure of that yet,” their father tempered. “It could be any number of ships that sank in this area.” The man’s stern expression softened. “But if it is, we’re going to find the proof.”
All heads bobbed and Sara had no doubt this family was going to indeed find what they’d been dreaming of for so long.
Kenny leaned in, studying the artifacts with the same focused attention he brought to everything. “What’s the plan now?”
“That’s the question.” Professor Thorne hovered over his charts. “Time, currents, and storms spread things out, but the main treasure hold should be within a reasonable radius. Tomorrow we’re planning to expand our search grid here.” With quiet confidence, the man tapped a spot on the chart.
“Looks like our company is getting bored.” Abigail Thorne pointed to the departing boat in the distance.
Kenny glanced around, strolled casually to where Nick would have been had he been captaining the boat and returned with a pair of binoculars. Standing in the shade, almost hidden from view, he stared into the distance at the retreating boat.
Not till his let the binoculars fall to his chest did Sara dare approach him. Before she could say a word, his fingers raised to his lip and he reached for a nearby pad of paper and pen. As he leaned against the table, writing, everyone gathered around him. Two words:Surveillance equipment.
Once the ship was completely out of sight, Kenny turned to face the family. “I have no idea how Vance knew you were on to the San Isidro site, but that boat has some serious surveillance equipment. The parabolic microphone looks big enough to pick up a pin drop from 300 yards.”
“Which is about how far out they were.” Professor Thorne looked out toward the poacher’s wake.
