Severed Threads (21 page)

“
I know,” she grumbled, edging past him. One look at his morose expression and her voice softened. “I’m fine,” she said. “You can go now.”

His dark, deep-set eyes tipped. “You
don’t remember me, do you?”

She paused a moment before answering. “Should I?”

“
You must have been ten the first time I saw you. Your brother was sitting on the Santa Monica pier with a line in the water. You were hanging off the bow of your father’s boat, yelling at the top of your lungs…doing everything you could to scare off the fish.”

The fuzzy memory drew a brief smile.

“
My dad was a longshoreman in Redondo,” he continued. “Everyone knew him as McCoy but his true name was Running Elk.”

Mac?
A man’s gentle, tawny face formed in her mind. “Of course! He was one of my father’s dearest friends. I wore the moccasins he gave me on my twelfth birthday until the soles wore out. And your mother…Theresa, right?” When Wade solemnly nodded his head, Rachel continued. “She had the most beautiful long black hair. I remember going on a camping trip and she made this amazing Indian bread. I must’ve eaten ten pounds and gained just as many.”

A soft chuckle rose from his chest.

With each flashback, her smile grew along with the speed of her words. “Didn’t we go skinny dipping one night in a rocky ravine? If I remember right, there was this amazing waterfall. We hid directly behind it. It was incredible. Everyone was calling out our names, trying to find us.”

His gaze slipped from her eyes to her lips. “I kissed you there,” he said.

Rachel internally cringed. Her cheeks warmed. Of all people, how was it possible she’d forgotten him? She’d dreamed about that kiss – his warm gentle touch for years. “I…I’m sorry, Wade. I don’t know why I would – ”

“
It was no big deal, really. We were just kids.”

She smiled at the memory, thinking back to when things were simpler – when she wasn’t confined to her quarters and had the lives of two men depending on her.

Thundering sounds lifted her eyes to the overhead vent. Footsteps were running fore and aft. Shouts were coming from the upper deck. But somehow Wade didn’t seem to notice.

"I was a lumberjack in southern Oregon for about six years,” he continued. “Came home to visit my folks. That’s when I ran into your dad. He told me what you’d been up to and convinced me to try diving. I ended up spending five years in Florida, learning the ropes. When I got word the
Stargazer
was going back out and the captain needed a crew fast, nothing was going to keep me from coming. He’s sort of a legend, you know."

Rachel had only been half listening. "Who?"

"Captain Cohen.” He squared his shoulders. "He called me last night. Told me about this adventure you’re on. I have to tell you, I wouldn’t have missed this for a lifetime.”

Great.
“Do you have any influence on this ship?” she asked.

“Not really. Excuse the pun, but I’m kinda the low man on the totem pole.”

She sniffed a laugh. “Of course.”

It was suddenly silent on the upper deck. Her gaze was riveted to the ceiling.

"So… you married?" Wade asked.

"No, I’m not.”

"Then you’re available. For some reason, I thought you and the captain were an item – ”

"Hell,
no
!” She astonished herself by her fervent reaction.

Creak
. There was a fresh sound from the floorboards in the hallway. Her ardent admirer stepped aside. Chase stood in the open doorway with his wetsuit dangling low on his hips.

Rachel’s breath caught. She would’ve never deliberately hurt him, but it was evident by his heated complexion and disparaging scowl she had done just that.

“
Chase, I…I’m sorry,” she stammered. “I didn’t see you there.”

“
So, you’re mad at me. Just tell me what I’ve done now.”

“
If you don’t know, I can’t help you.”

“
Well, for whatever it’s worth, I’m sorry. Okay?”

“
Fine. Apology accepted.”

“
So, we’re good then.”

“
Uh-huh.”

“
All right. I’ll see you back on deck, okay?”

She lowered her voice to a whisper. “No problem, jerk.”

Wade’s brow quirked.

“
All right!” Chase retorted. “We can’t keep this up. Not while we’re both on this ship. We have to put our differences aside…figure out a way to get along.”

“
Got it.”

“
If we’re going to work together, we have to forget all the negative stuff between us.”

Rachel rolled her eyes and looked away.

“
Wait a minute. I thought you agreed.”

“
About working with you? Sure. But I’m still mad at you. I’m just sorry about embarrassing you, is all.”

Chase looked at Wade, shaking his head. “Women,” he grumbled. “Come on, let’s go.” They were both out the door with Chase leading when Wade suddenly stalled. He glanced back with a spreading smile.

“
Hell, no, huh?” he teased.

Rachel smirked before shutting the door between them.

* * *

Twenty minutes later, Rachel pushed her books aside and ventured from her room to observe the crew in action. She climbed the closest ladder and arrived on the afterdeck. Wade was in the lower compartment handing up scuba tanks, regulators and buoyancy vests to Ian. Weight belts, fins, masks and snorkels soon followed. Chase slipped into his double eighty-cubic-foot tanks and waited while the Irishman assisted in wedging a small pony tank containing emergency air in between them. With three regulators now dangling securely under his chin, he faced Rachel.

"Guess you're hoping I'll drown, huh?"

“
How’d you know?”

The wry smile on his face proved her sarcasm had been taken lightly. No matter how irritating Chase might be, she had no desire to see him harmed.

He finished adjusting the dive computer on his wrist – an aid for his bottom time, ascent depths, and decompression timing. In his vest pocket, he added a slate with the stops and requisite times penciled in. He checked his wristwatch and noted the time. Just when she thought he was fully equipped, he tethered a primary light to his right wrist and latched a strobe to his vest. Even though he was diving alone, Chase Cohen was leaving no margin for error.

Ian nodded at Rachel. "Got yer skin right here," he said.

"What?" Her stomach lurched. He held up the
Camaro
wetsuit she'd left on a hook next to the filled lockers below – window dressing that had provided her a place on the ship.

"Cap'n says yer his good luck charm."

“
He needs to find another one,” she mumbled.

"So you coming or not?" Chase asked.

She glanced around the ship. Everyone had a duty to perform – an assignment keeping them busy. Through an adjacent cabin window, she spotted the young software genius pecking away.

"I'm helping Blaine today…with financial statements and an updated report for the foundation."

"That's really going to take two of you?"

She nodded quickly.

Frustration marred Chase’s forehead. "Well, I suppose the trustees won't mind when we pull up with drained tanks and an empty hold. Just as long as my books are in order."

Rachel could feel her pulse racing – her buried fears rising inside. Every nightmare had left her panicked, screaming. Dying. Whatever was out there had been waiting four years, anticipating the day she’d be back.

"Come on," Chase persisted. "Here's your chance to show me up. Who knows, you might even steal that bottle of scotch from Ian."

"I thought A.J. wanted to go. Can’t you ask him?”

Chase grumbled under his breath. "Never mind. Ian, suit up. You're going with me."

"But Cap’n, remember? Ya had me checkin’ the rudder. It’s been runnin’ a bit off, ya know.”

“
Are you serious? We’re anchored. Can’t that wait?”

“
Not if ya don’t mind goin’ round in circles.”

“
Honesty. Am I the only one on this ship interested in finding treasure?” Chase’s frown returned to Rachel.

"Okay, okay! I'll go with you, but only on one condition,” she said. “If we strike out and there’s nothing down there, you'll arrange to have someone take me back in the launch.”

Chase huffed and shook his head. "I’ve never met anyone so anxious to jump ship, but if that ‘s what you want, Rachel, I’ll take you myself.”

Eighteen

Downstairs in her isolated quarters, Rachel yanked off her pants and blouse and struggled into a black Speedo bathing suit, molding every curve in her body. A few minutes later, she returned to the afterdeck and dragged on the wetsuit Ian held out to her. She strapped a rubber-handled Bowie knife to her calf, attached a wide beam light to her wrist and latched two goody bags to her BC vest. She waited while Wade assisted with the balance of her gear. Then she secured her video strap and picked up the metal detector.

All the while, Chase stood near the open gun rail silently watching her, unreadable thoughts on his face.

Her nerves were making her edgy. "Go," she snapped at him.

After testing each regulator, Chase gave Ian the thumbs up and tumbled over
Stargazer's
side.

I can do this. I can do this
, she assured herself. Ian and Wade hovered nearby as she slid on her mask and adjusted her regulator. After one last look around, she dropped into the icy underworld, joining Chase in his weightless decent.

As soon as their bubbles dispersed, she took her bearings. She deflated her vest, diving deeper, following his strong kicks. She remained close enough to feel the churning water from his scissoring motion, to trace the lines of his taut, muscular thighs. They passed mossy green boulders and sand that spanned the ocean floor. They rounded the edge of a cliff where the ground vanished into a dark, shadowy chasm. Without even being aware of it, her instincts had taken over. A sense of wellbeing seeped into her soul.

After skirting one of
Stargazer's
anchors, they paused to purge their masks and ended up observing an inquisitive rock cod. To Rachel's surprise, a diamond stingray arrived on the scene. She reached out and trailed her gloved hand over its back. It circled around and swooped downward, vanishing into the ocean's bottomless depths. The brief encounter reminded her of the first dive she'd ever made. Having been mesmerized by Hawaii's colorful marine life, she'd settled in a single coral head and hardly moved for almost an hour.

Chase beckoned her onward. He halted before a mountainous outcropping and signaled his intention to enter its ruptured mantle.

No
. Rachel shook her head from side to side. The chilled interiors bled through the wall's opening. It was an ominous reminder of Sam's dream message.

Chase moved his fist from his face to his chest. He exposed his palm and pointed a single digit at his heart.
Trust me
– the sign language they'd shared at a dinner table years earlier.

Ironic.
In another place, Rachel might have shoved Chase and walked away. Now she had no choice but to depend on him. She nodded slowly and trailed along, ever mindful of their distance from the cave's jagged mouth. Once inside, he turned on the blaring light and motioned for her to lift the camera. Directly in front of them, the cylindrical flow of microscopic bits danced in yellowish-gold light – sediment and algae more apparent in the dive light beams. Rachel strained her eyes to peer into the shadowy recesses. To cut through the murk blanketing the cavernous floor. And there it took shape… in all its ghostly wonder.