Page 4 of Spring Break with a Treasure Hunter
After he’d learned about this event fundraiser for the museum, he shifted things around so he could attend. The surprise had been the key in the display case. It was magnificent, and it would be a perfect acquisition for his collection. He downed the last of his drink. It was late and if he was lucky, he’dbe able to sleep for a few hours.But Daisy and the key made it difficult.
Sleep.
Not even money could buy sleep. When you had too much money, too much time, and an excess of whatever your heart desired, it was easy to lose interest in life. So he looked for extremes the extremes. Something… anything to give him back the thrill he had long since lost.
Even women. He’d essentially given up the fairer sex and hadn’t missed them. There was no challenge anymore. They thought sex would lead to a forever after, which he’d made clear right away wouldn’t happen. The last thing he wanted was misconceptions. Sure he’d show them a good time, but he made it clear they weren’t to expect anything more. Most learned the hard way, leaving angry, with broken hearts and vows of eternal hatred.
Marriage. Commitment. Happily ever after.
That wasn’t him.
He knew he was damaged, or so he’d been told, and nothing made him want to fix himself. It was easier to ignore than try to change. Did he miss sex? The feel of a woman beneath him as he fucked her? Sure, but there was something missing in that too. Just like in most aspects of his life. Thirty-four years old, rich enough for three lifetimes and bored enough to not give a shit.
Except for the new excitement of marine archeology and artifacts. The risk of diving, going deep in order to discover treasures beneath the waves.
And Daisy was the key to that.
He wondered what Ms. Daisy Savage was doing now. They were both under that same star-filled night sky. Likely, she was fast asleep in bed. He could see her in his mind, snuggled down in the sheets, her long blond hair lying in satiny strands over thepillow. Was she alone? Had she found someone to relieve the ache he’d sensed in her? Or had she taken care of it on her own?
The flash of jealousy soured the whiskey he’d just downed when he thought of her with someone else. It shocked the hell out of him. He never felt jealousy. He didn’t try to not be jealous, he just never was. Nothing had ever held enough power over him for the emotion. This was entirely new and it rattled him. He sighed and stared at the sky in silence.
A shooting star streaked across and like a child he immediately wished upon it. Something he hadn’t done since he’d been a kid, holding his mum’s hand as they’d stood in the back garden of their little cottage by the sea. Ireland. His birthplace. Where he’d lost everything, before he got it all, and so much more, back again.
3
Ididn’t pull my hair back into a ponytail under the baseball cap, so it hung in a blond curtain around my face as I bent over and tapped my tank. A habit I’d started years ago when I first started diving. I can’t even remember why I did it. But now it was a superstition. Something bad might happen if I didn’t tap it. So I did it every time.
All was in order and I sat on the bench of the dive boat with the rest of the tourists. I chose this trip because it was within the vicinity of another area I wanted to add to the search grid I was establishing. Being with a group shouldn’t attract attention, I was just a girl going for a dive.
I found it difficult to trust people, even though I now needed to, with the museum opening. I gazed at the people from under the brim of my baseball cap. The peak shaded my eyes and I studied each face. I breathed a sigh of relief. No one was familiar to me, so I let my attention wander.
It was a beautiful day with clear blue skies, warm, turquoise waters, and with a bit of chop on the ride out to the dive site which was on the other side of the point, so it would be sheltered and not too tricky of a dive. I was a certified master diver, andvery confident in my abilities, but I still grew a little nervous when diving without a buddy.
The dive boat roared past the beautiful white sand beaches of the many little uninhabited islands that were part of the St. William’s island group. The boat rounded the point and immediately the water was calmer. Where I was planning to dive was in the bay a bit further, which meant I was diving away from the group.
Anchor down, I readied myself and tucked my gear bag under the bench as the crew helped the tourists. When it was my turn, I stepped off the dive platform at the transom. Turquoise water closed over my head and the silence of the sea wrapped around me. I let the air out of my buoyancy compensator vest and sank, loving the sensation of peace that wrapped around me. I swear I had to be part mermaid, or something. I had such an affinity to the sea, it felt like home. And why I had a mermaid tattoo.
I dove down and rolled so I could look up. I loved the way the surface about twenty feet above me shimmered like molten silver. Some people had a hard time with the silence. I knew someone that would hum all the time, otherwise he’d verge on a panic attack.
The sound of my breath through the regulator was a comfort as well. Some got claustrophobic, but not me. It was wonderful to be back under the water. To dive. To lose myself in the gentle ebb and flow and energy of the sea. I checked my gauges and looked around to see where the other divers were headed and got my bearings. I had about fifty minutes to do some scavenging.
I made a careful notation of my compass heading. The tranquil blue of the water buoyed me. Visibility was good. It wouldn’t be for long once the hurricane showed up and I felt a burning sense of urgency to find another item. Just one more, to help establish the size of the grid.
Why was I nervous? It had to be the excitement of finding something under the white sand, or tucked into some coral. I gave a couple of powerful kicks and the coral head I’d been seeking came into view. It was fairly large and rose to about ten feet from the surface. The last time I was here, I’d marked with a ribbon around a lump of dead coral. Turning over a few rocks, I found it and carefully hid it again.
I gently sifted through sand and picked up loose coral. Just as I was about to investigate a little hidey-hole between some brain coral, I heard the drone of a boat motor. I looked up and was disappointed to see a boat stop and an anchor plunge into the water about 30 feet away. It was definitely a risk I took diving without a surface flag to indicate I was below. A second later, a diver jumped in, oriented themselves, and seemed to stare right at me.
I sculled my hands to push myself away from the coral and watched. The diver tipped and with powerful kicks, trailing a line of air bubbles, swam straight for the bottom towards me. Alarm flared in my chest, and I gazed around looking for the group I’d arrived with. Perfect, no one in sight—even if that was my intention all along, now I wasn’t so sure. I was alone. In the vast ocean with this very purposeful looking person bee-lining it straight to me.
I placed my hand on my thigh where I had my dive knife sheathed. This person was an excellent diver. Comfortable in the water. Strong. Confident. I kept a close eye on him. He was diving without a wetsuit. I had on a shorty, custom made for me in green and purple with flashes of yellow. A true beacon for carnivorous sea life, but I liked the colours.
The 80-plus degree water wasn’t cold to this approaching diver, indicating he likely wasn’t local and from up north. His tanned muscles told a different story. I pushed the clear waterproof pouch hanging on my belt behind me. It held, amongother things, the grid I had outlined and I’ll be damned if I’d let him see it.
I darted a glance at the coral head. Now I’d have to come back another time to investigate. Shit.
When he’d discoveredDaisy was diving and where, he’d secured the speed boat and dive gear in order to meet her. He knew she was searching for something and it excited him. A sweet emotion indeed.
Careful she wasn’t below, he tossed the anchor and jumped in after quickly strapping on the tank. He pulled his fins on in the water. Once in the water he was pleased that his guess had been quite accurate. She wouldn’t be too far from the tour dive boat, and it was pure sweet luck to find her so quickly.
