Close Quarters (Her SEAL Protector #1) (7 page)

When he got the lock free, he tugged on the small door and stepped inside. He waited for his eyes to adjust to the darkness before moving toward the first shelf. As he neared the window, he caught a scent that surprised him.
Almonds. Cherries. Jamie.

Sniffing the air, he followed the familiar smell to the corner of the shelf. He shoved aside some batteries and lanterns to uncover a thick accordion-style envelope—and a loaded pistol. He glanced at the window and noticed the glass had fingerprints on it, and the ledge was wiped clean of dust and grime. Had she shimmied through the window to hide this?

He rendered the pistol safe, ejecting the magazine and tucking it into the back pocket of his jeans before pointing the muzzle away from him and racking the slide twice to ensure there weren't any rounds chambered. Sliding the pistol into his other back pocket, he gave his attention to the envelope. Feeling the same quiver of guilt that had hit him when he went through her suitcase, he unwound the string securing the folder and withdrew the stacks of papers from inside. A note to Peyton rested on top.

Peyton,

If you find this after I'm gone, burn it.

I'm sorry. For all of it.

Your Sister From Another Mister,

JP II

Chest constricting, he shuffled through the papers and found antique maps and sea charts wedged between the pages of an old book written in Spanish. Upon closer inspection, he realized the maps were nearly identical except that the coordinates outlining a rough box shape were slightly different on each one. He rubbed the two pieces of paper between his fingers. They felt similar, but one was clearly the original and the other a forgery.

Sticking his hand back in the envelope, he felt a small cell phone-sized device. He recognized it the second his fingers wrapped around it. The handheld device was a very expensive—and very reliable—GPS tracking unit. He studied the screen and realized she was tracking two spots just off the coast of the Dominican Republic.

He looked at the maps again, the real one and the forgery. The GPS pings matched one of the areas sketched out on her maps. What in the hell was she up to now?

The faint swish of fabric alerted him to her approaching presence. Before she reached the doorway, he spoke with deceptive calmness. "Your stealth approach skills need some serious work, Jamie."

Rising slowly, he swiveled to face her, his discovered loot clamped in his hands. Eyes wide and expression panicked, Jamie gripped the door frame. She licked her lips, the sight of her tongue reminding him of their wild night, but he refused to be sidetracked. Holding up the folder and GPS tracker, he warned her carefully, "I'm going to ask once and only once, Jamie. What is this?"

Her hand tightened around the frame, her fingertips turning a ghostly white color from the pressure. "Do you remember Dane Castillejo?"

The name was all too familiar. "He was your dad's business partner. Now he's rumored to be a cartel man."

"There's no rumor to it. After Dad died, the business was shut down, so he took all of the boats and crews and started up a new deep sea diving and fishing venture. Except there wasn't much diving or fishing happening," she muttered. "His skillset made him the perfect fit for the Colombian and Mexican cartels who needed to move product."

"What does any of that have to do with you?"

"Last night, I told you that I boxed up all of Dad's stuff, and Mom put it in storage. When I decided that I needed to experience for myself what Dad was chasing every time he left, I went back to the storage locker, but I noticed some of the boxes had been opened. I bribed the owner with a wad of cash, and he let me watch the security tapes. I saw Dane go into the storage locker, but he came out empty-handed. Even so, I knew what he was looking for."

He lifted the maps and book. "This?"

"Yes. It made me start thinking about the day Dad died. He was supposed to go on that trip alone with Dane, but I begged him to take me and he finally relented. Dane wasn't happy that I was tagging along. The morning we set off to climb the cliff face, Dane insisted I take his gear instead of Dad's and he helped rig me up. He took my stuff and said that he didn't mind breaking in new gear."

Leland's stomach clenched. "Are you saying that he sabotaged your father's gear so that he would fall?"

"Yes."

"Can you prove it?"

"Not yet."

"Why would he want to kill your father?"

She pointed to the maps he held. "For that."

"This? He killed your father over a shipwreck?"

"
The
shipwreck, Leland," she corrected. "When I recover that galleon, you'll see what I mean. The boat sank with a full load of gold and silver coins, jewels, tobacco and indigo. The tobacco and indigo are long gone, but the coins and jewels? If the estimates are right, we're talking hundreds of millions of dollars in salvage."

The number stunned and angered him. "Jamie, you're already a millionaire dozens of times over. What the hell do you need with more money?"

"It's not about the money! It's about my father. It's about Dane killing my dad to get to that ship. I think Dad had figured out that Dane was getting into bed with the cartels, and he decided to cut him out of the
Pilar
salvage."

"
Pilar
?"

"
Nuestra Señora del Pilar
," she said. "It's the name of the ship."

"So your Dad finds out about Dane getting cozy with some narco scumbags, Dane kills him, and now you've decided that you're…what? Going to get even with him? That you're going to make him pay?"

"I'm going to ruin him."

"How? With forged maps?"

"I found the shipwreck. The real one," she explained with irritating coolness. "I quietly salvaged a very small part of it, just enough to whet his appetite, and planted it near another ship that wrecked during the same hurricane in 1622. It was a spot Dad had searched plenty of times and Dane knew all about his dives there so he believed the maps when he saw them."

"Wait." He held up a hand. "How did Dane get the forged maps?"

"I used a…mutual friend…to get him interested in the forged maps and notes that I wanted to sell."

"A mutual friend, huh?" Jealousy burned through him. "You mean someone like Hector Salas?"

She blanched. "How did you—"

"Facebook," he interjected roughly. "If you want to keep something a secret, you probably shouldn't share it on there."

"I'm not embarrassed about my friendship with Hector." She shot him an annoyed look. "You wouldn't be either if you knew what he'd done for Peyton."

"Let me guess. The time you two got thrown into a Mexican slammer during spring break?"

"I didn't get arrested. Peyton was the one who got picked up for trying to score off some very obvious
Federales
in the club parking lot."

He narrowed his eyes. "She said—"

"What I told her to say," Jamie interrupted. "I knew how your family would react if they found the golden child had done something so stupid. Your parents already thought I was a bad influence, and you hated me anyway, so what did it matter?"

"I never hated you."

She glanced away from him and bit her lip. "Hector owned the club we were in, and he had bought me a drink earlier in the night. I figured out what he was pretty damned quick so I kept him at a distance, but when Peyton got picked up, I had to do something. She could barely survive a night's lockup in a US jail. There was no way she was going to make it through the night down there."

Stomach clenching, he asked, "What did you do?"

"Hector had given me his number, so I called him and asked for his help."

The thought of Jamie going to a cartel enforcer for help sickened him. "What did he make you do?"

"He didn't make me do anything. We had dinner a few nights later and kept in touch."

"That's all?" He didn't buy that story for a second.

"Do you really want to hear all those details, Leland? It was a long time ago."

"But he's still hanging around!"

"He's helping me."

He started to shout that he would have helped her, but that wasn’t true. He had pushed her away, punishing her for something she had never done, and cut her off from his help. Trying to keep his cool, he asked, "What happened after Hector gave Dane the maps?"

"He bought the story and the setup hook, line, and sinker. He rigged out a crew, secured the permits, and set sail to recover the wrong ship. They've been out there for four months. Of course, what he doesn't know is that I've already secured the real site and have agreed to give the government of the Dominican Republic a fifty percent cut of whatever I find when I start the salvage operation later this year. They buried the permit and made my presence in the country disappear. There's no trace of me ever being there." She shrugged. "Like you said, I don't need the money. This is all about revenge for me."

Leland gaped at her. "This isn't a fucking game. The man already killed your father! He won't hesitate to kill you."

"The cartel guys he convinced to finance his operation aren't going to let him have that chance once they realize how much money he's lost and how stupid he's made them all look. They're expecting a massive payday and an easy way to launder some of their dirty money. When they don't get it?" She dragged a finger across her neck.

Speechless, he gritted his teeth and fought the urge to shake some sense into her. "Damn it, Jamie! You think they're going to stop with Dane?"

"Yes, I do."

"Then you're a fool," he spat angrily. "They won't forgive your part in this mess."

"They already have."

Three words, and he was knocked backward with shock. It seemed her plan for revenge left no loose ends. "How?"

"You know how."

"Hector, your knight in cocaine-dusted armor." He slammed her maps and book back into the folder, and stuck her pistol inside. He left the heavy folder on the nearest shelf and dropped the GPS tracker on top. "Did you stop to think for one second what coming here means for Peyton? Did you even consider that if your plan flies off the rails, they'll start looking for answers with her?"

"You don't need to worry about Peyton. She's safe. I took care of that." She stepped toward him and wrung her hands. "If you would just listen to me for a second, I can explain—"

"I'm done listening to this," he snarled. Reeling from the realization he knew nothing about this new woman she had become, he shook his head. "You broke my trust, Jamie. You should have told me last night about all of this. If something happens to Peyton—"

"Nothing is going to happen to Peyton!"

"You don't know that! Will you listen to yourself? You cannot possibly be this stupid."

She flinched, and he instantly hated himself for losing it. A moment later, she presented him with a cool, icy mask of indifference. "If that's how you feel, then I should leave."

"Yes, you should." He wanted her gone.
No, you don't. You want her here, in your arms and in your bed.
"Pack up your stuff. I'm going into town for groceries. I'll stop by the garage to see if your car is ready. If it's not, you can take my rental. When I'm back, you need to be ready to go."

"Fine."

"Great." She stepped out of the doorway so he could pass through without touching her. As he stormed back to the cabin to retrieve his wallet and the rental keys, he ignored the gnawing ache in the pit of his stomach and the heaviness in his chest. He slid behind the wheel of the SUV, jammed the key into the ignition and slammed the door.

After throwing the vehicle in drive, he let his foot hesitate on the brake. A voice inside his head screamed for him to go back to the shed and talk to her. He was so angry and disappointed. Didn't she understand how risky this was? How fucking reckless she had been? It wasn't only her life she had put in the crosshairs, but Peyton's. When it came to his sister, no one was allowed to cross that line, not even Jamie.

But she seemed so sure she had everything neatly wrapped up and Peyton protected. He wanted to believe she was that good at masterminding a plot like this one, but his hand drifted to the dull ache in his side and the old scar on his neck. Even the best laid plans could be blown to hell in the blink of an eye.

Certain they would only scream and yell at each other if he got out of the SUV, he eased down on the gas and drove away from the cabin. They needed some space to decompress. He had to decide how much deeper he wanted to be dragged into her scheme. This was the sort of thing that could derail his career and get him in a shitload of trouble.

She's worth it.

His fingers tightened around the steering wheel as he raced down the long stretch of empty highway. Her forlorn, resigned voice echoed in his head.
I wasn't ever enough of a reason for anyone to stick around.

She really believed she wasn't worth fighting for. She wouldn't have done something so dangerous if she didn't believe it. In her mind, she probably thought she was alone. The scars he had traced on her body were proof enough that she had been living a wild, carefree life. Just how far had she pushed the envelope? How many of her decisions had been influenced by the guilt she felt for her dad's death?

Peyton had told him that Michelle still blamed Jamie for her father's death. Her mother believed she had been a distraction during the trip, a distraction that had cost James his life. As far as he knew, Michelle had become an even heavier drinker since James' burial. Jamie had no brothers or sisters, no grandparents or aunts or uncles or cousins. She was an only child with no one else to support her. Although she was still best friends with Peyton, he sensed the two had grown apart. He figured that was a normal thing, especially when one of them was immersed in academia, and the other was trying to find herself by risking her life.

He wiped a hand down his face and expelled a noisy breath. Was it so wrong for her to want revenge on the man who had taken her father's life? He thought of all the hazardous missions he had completed in his seven years as a SEAL. How many of them were undertaken to mete out justice? Wasn't that what she wanted? Justice for her father's murder?