In Too Deep (13 page)

Irritation sizzled through her veins.

Ignoring him, Avery went right up to the hull. She’d read about Jackson Duchane’s accident when they’d first made the discovery. She understood the risks and had no intention of putting herself in harm’s way. But that didn’t mean she had to stay fifty feet back.

She couldn’t do her job that way and had no intention of letting Knox tie her hands.

Bracing herself on the edge of a hatch, Avery peered inside. She could feel Knox behind her, tall and forbidding, but ignored him.

Several beams had fallen across an opening opposite her. To her trained eye, it was easy to spot the newly exposed wood that had been protected for years until Jackson’s accident had bared it to the briny water.

Something unexpected caught her attention, but she wanted a closer look to be certain what she was seeing.

According to the information she’d been given, Jackson had been farther into the ship when the bulkhead had collapsed. And by his own admission, he’d knocked his tank against the wall. She’d be careful.

Kicking out, she was mindful not to disturb anything, staying well clear of the debris and walls, and keeping the exit in close proximity in case she needed it quickly.

Pulling the underwater camera out of the pouch tied to her waist, Avery nearly caught her breath at the markings carved into the beams that had fallen.

She snapped picture after picture, her heart thudding.

These kinds of markings were often the difference between identification and speculation. Her dad had often said an archaeologist was part detective, part psychologist, part fortune-teller.

Archaeologists took tiny pieces and fit them together until most of the picture materialized. Often, the smallest items or seemingly inconsequential data made the biggest difference. One marking on a hieroglyph, a single word incorrectly translated, a broken shard of pottery.

These were the moments she lived for. The ones that made her grateful for her job, the excitement and thrill she couldn’t get anywhere else.

She wouldn’t know for certain until she could better examine the photographs and identify the markings, but it was possible the beams could be traced back to a ship builder and even a ship.

When she was satisfied with what she had, Avery moved carefully back through the cockeyed cabin. Her eyes darted along the trail of debris left by the catastrophe that had sunk the ship.

Pieces of the hull, covered with grime and years of salty crust, were scattered across what had become the floor of the wreckage.

Among the bits of damaged wood, several objects caught her eye. She hesitated to remove them, but the
Amphitrite
was equipped with the tools needed to properly preserve anything they brought up. She fought back unexpected nerves.

Avery had done this a hundred times over the course of her career, why did she suddenly feel like a green archaeologist on her first recovery? Her heart thudded, her skin felt clammy inside her wetsuit.

She didn’t have time for this kind of reaction, or hesitation. Carefully photographing the objects for identification and logging, she reached down and gingerly retrieved a round lump of something. She hoped it and another odd-shaped item covered with barnacles and a green crust would prove useful.

Knox’s impatience was almost palpable as he glared at her from the doorway. He indicated his own dive computer, wordlessly informing her that they needed to ascend.

She knew precisely how long they’d been down and how much oxygen they both had left. But there was no need to push the man completely past his breaking point.

She already knew she was in for a battle once they reached the surface.

12

K
NOX
WAS
PISSED
, but there was little he could do about it now. Even down below, short of wrapping his arms around Avery and dragging her back up to the surface like a drowning victim, he couldn’t have stopped her from entering the
Chimera
. Which left him frustrated and irritated.

Normally the controlled ascent necessary for surfacing after a dive didn’t bother him. He appreciated the need to complete the task correctly.

Today, watching as Avery moved steadily upward, the painstaking care grated against his already exposed nerves. And the longer it took, the more his temper simmered, boiling dangerously close to the surface.

He tried to find that center of calm he’d fought hard to develop during his training with the Teams. Unfortunately, it was nonexistent today. Every time he thought he had a handle on it, the image of Avery disappearing into the belly of the ship rose up in his mind and set him off again.

She’d promised him she’d be careful and at the first opportunity had darted straight off into danger.

Bright sunlight blinded him as they climbed back aboard the
Amphitrite
, but he didn’t let the momentary discomfort slow him down. He began shedding his equipment, shoving it into a corner to deal with later.

He ripped at the zipper on his wetsuit. The thing felt as if it was suffocating him, or maybe that was his anger. With jerky movements, he peeled it away until it dangled at his hips.

Stalking across the deck, he grasped Avery’s elbow. She didn’t jerk away, but coolly looked up at him, her eyes calm and clear.

That didn’t help his mood at all.

He was ready to blow a gasket and she was acting as if nothing was wrong.

“Dr. Walsh, we need to have a word,” he ground out between clenched teeth.

She pulled in a deep breath, holding it for several seconds before answering. “Yes, I imagine we do, but you’re going to have to wait a few minutes.”

Grabbing the bag that had been tied to her waist, Avery pulled her arm from his grasp and walked over to talk with Shawn, one of the divers.

Knox followed.

“I need these items cleaned and preserved as quickly as possible, please,” Avery said, proceeding to tell Shawn how to log the artifacts, including their location. Knox listened as she provided him cautionary direction on how to handle the delicate items without damaging them.

Shawn nodded as she explained each step she wanted him to follow, then cradled the bag in his hands, peering inside with an expression of wonder and awe.

Certain they were both on the same page, she moved to turn away, but Shawn stopped her, placing his hand on her arm. “I promise I’ll take great care with this, Dr. Walsh.”

“Avery. Please, call me Avery,” she said, gifting him with a bright smile that Knox noticed didn’t quite reach her eyes.

So maybe she wasn’t as unaware of the argument they were about to engage in as he’d first thought.

Turning back to Knox, Avery raked him with a cool gaze. He watched her shoulders straighten as she attempted to pull every spare inch out of her limited height.

He tried not to let how cute she was, hair in a wet tail down her back and her body outlined in her tight wetsuit, sway him. But it was damn hard.

Perfect, now his temper was mixed with lust, a highly combustible combination.

Gesturing her ahead of him, Knox indicated she should lead the way across the ship. He wasn’t surprised when she chose the room that had been designated as an office instead of her own cabin.

Something told him this conversation was going to leave him frustrated and highly unsatisfied.

* * *

A
VERY
DIDN
’
T
BOTHER
waiting for Knox to launch his verbal attack. She cut straight to it, hoping to head him off at the pass.

“I’m sorry.”

His mouth opened and then slammed shut again, flattening into a thin line.

Maybe it would have been better to let him bluster and get all the pent-up frustration out in the open. She could see the tension stringing his muscles tight. Could practically feel the vibration of it running through his body.

“What, exactly, are you sorry for?”

Avery crossed her arms over her chest, eyeing him. She could tell him what he wanted to hear, but that didn’t quite sit right with her.

“For upsetting you.”

“But not for swimming straight into danger.”

“I don’t recall doing that.”

“Then you have a shitty memory.”

“Pretty sure there’s nothing wrong with my memory.”

Knox scowled. The thunderous expression shouldn’t have been sexy. Yet her body reacted as if it was.

Her blood whooshed inside her veins. Her nipples tightened and her sex began to throb with a relentless need.

None of that was helpful at the moment.

“I’m not an idiot, Knox. The ship was stable. I didn’t go far inside and I was constantly aware of my surroundings.”

“A lot of good that would have done if the thing had shifted again and the ceiling had come crashing down on your head like what happened to Jackson.”

“From what I read, Jackson was partly responsible for that.”

Knox rolled his shoulders, his mouth pulling into a tighter line. “Maybe.”

“Look, there’s no sense in arguing about this. We’ll have to agree to disagree. Either way, hopefully I have what I need to make a determination, with the photographs I took and the artifacts I recovered.”

She could see the conflict playing out in his eyes, the desire to have things settled against the need to hang on to his anger.

Eventually, practicality won out. It was something she appreciated about Knox, his unclouded view of the world.

“Let me download the pictures and see what I’ve got. We’ll go from there.”

“Fine, but you better hope you got what you need, Avery, because it’ll be a while before I trust you that close to the wreck again. Not until I’ve heard from our structural consultants. I’m running a business here and have insurance, safety regulations and the rest of the team to think about. You not only put yourself at risk but everyone else. If something had gone wrong we would have had to kick into rescue mode. There were other ways to get what you needed.”

He wasn’t wrong, but there was a clock ticking in the back of her head. She silently admitted it might have pushed her to do something she wouldn’t have normally.

“We’re both running out of time, Knox. You know it and I know it. McNair isn’t a patient man and he won’t care about our incident with the drug runners, the approaching storm or the instability of the wreck. The courts have placed a deadline on a determination and he’ll insist they follow it. The longer this takes, the worse the outcome for Trident.”

Avery watched the jumble of emotions spin through Knox’s eyes—frustration, acknowledgment, the sharp edge of unresolved anger—before he spun on his heel. He didn’t bother slamming the door behind him, although she knew he probably wanted to.

It might have been better for both of them if he had.

Avery didn’t like the idea of anyone influencing the way she chose to conduct her work. She already felt trapped enough by McNair. She didn’t need pressure from Knox as well.

Dropping into the seat behind the desk, she opened her laptop and switched it on. She connected the waterproof camera and it began downloading the series of photographs she’d taken.

Heading to her room, Avery changed clothes and grabbed her phone before returning to the office.

She probably should have stayed away and let the camera run, but she couldn’t stop herself from watching as a preview of each picture popped up onto the screen, one after another.

Leaning close, she peered at the images, trying to force her eyes into making out the markings. She was going to need to blow them up to get a better look. Impatience crackled through her system. She wanted this over with.

Although at the same time she didn’t. Because when it was all said and done she was afraid of what she might lose—her career, Knox, everything.

Avery was on edge, which was probably why her entire body jolted when the cell phone she’d placed at her elbow began to vibrate against the tabletop.

Unknown
scrolled across the screen.

Normally, she wouldn’t bother answering an unidentified caller, but considering everything that was going on she hit the green button to pick up the call...and then wished she hadn’t.

“Dr. Walsh,” came a rich, smooth voice that had the ability to make her skin crawl.

“Mr. McNair,” she answered, keeping her tone level to hide her jolt of fear. Nothing good could come from this call. “What can I do for you?”

“You can tell me you’ve uncovered evidence the ship is not the
Chimera
.”

Avery bit the inside of her cheek, forcing the words she wanted to scream at the man to stay behind her teeth. When she was certain she had control over her tongue, she said, “I’m sorry, I can’t do that.”

“And why not?” She could hear the censure in his voice. It left her feeling unsteady.

“Because we encountered a problem and I only began diving on the ship today. However, I took some photographs and retrieved a couple of items that I’m hoping will help me make a determination. As soon as I do, you’ll be the first to know.”

“Ms. Walsh,” McNair said, emphasizing the
Ms
. “I’m certain you’re aware that actually doing your job isn’t necessary in this situation.”

“You might not think so, Mr. McNair, but I do.”

“Suit yourself, my dear.” His condescending and artificially sweet tone had a tingle of unease tripping down her spine.

McNair had her backed into a corner. Powerless. She’d felt the same way, watching her sister self-destruct and knowing there was nothing she could to do to help.

“You know the outcome, I expect. Do whatever you must in order to deliver it. Because I’d really hate to see you lose the career you’ve fought so hard to gain. And how would your sister fare at a state-run institution? Even at the best facilities, accidents happen all the time.”

Avery couldn’t hold in her gasp. Her hands began to tremble, the phone shaking against her ear.

It was one thing for McNair to threaten her, but Melody...her sister was helpless. And while the facility had security, she didn’t doubt McNair could find a way in if he wanted to get to her.

What was so important about this damn ship that McNair would go to such lengths to interfere in Trident’s salvage?

At first she’d assumed he wanted the gold. That had to be it, right? But there was no guarantee the gold even existed. It was possible the story had been fabricated and embellished over the years, as often happened with legends. The gold wasn’t listed on any manifests, but it wouldn’t have been, considering the plantation owners were trying to smuggle it to the Confederacy.

No one would know the truth until they could get the wreck stabilized enough to salvage whatever remained inside the hold. The Trident team hadn’t even been able to get robots in to take photographs.

She’d aided in the recovery of almost twenty sunken vessels over the years—some had yielded more data, artifacts and treasure than expected. And some had held none.

It was a gamble. A high-priced one considering the cost of the equipment, man-hours and energy involved in recovering a ship like this one.

She never considered the monetary gains from salvage. For her it was always about discovering and preserving artifacts that provided valuable insights into human history. But McNair clearly didn’t value such things.

It might help if she understood what drove him, but she really didn’t. And without that piece of information she was walking blindly into a fight she knew she couldn’t win.

“Ms. Walsh, don’t make me provide additional motivation for your cooperation.”

Before she could respond, a loud tone buzzed obnoxiously in her ear telling her McNair had hung up on her.

Picking up a glass that had been left on the desk, Avery sent it flying toward the far wall. The crash was more therapeutic than she’d expected. Throwing things wasn’t her normal MO, but she’d needed an outlet for the flash of frustration-drenched anger and the glass had been handy.

Her chest heaving, she stared at the shards glittering in the late-afternoon sunlight streaming through the porthole high on the wall.

Unfortunately, her satisfaction was short-lived when the door burst open and for the second time in as many days, Knox rushed inside, his eyes darting around the room until they finally landed on the mess.

His body slowed and those rich brown eyes came to rest on her. “What the hell happened?”

How was she going to explain this?

* * *

A
VERY
STOOD
IN
the middle of the room. Her eyes were blazing, her skin flushed pink with anger. Her chest rose and fell, drawing his attention even as he tried to push the awareness away. Now wasn’t the time.

“Well?” he prompted.

“Nothing,” she bit out.

They both knew that was a lie.

“Bullshit, Avery.” He took several steps closer, but stopped when she backed away. He didn’t want to pressure her, but he wanted an answer. He couldn’t fix what was wrong if he didn’t understand.

“Tell me what happened.”

She looked at the desk, the porthole, the broken glass, everywhere but his face. Yet another sign that she was hiding something. One of many.

He watched emotions chase across her face—desperation, hope, resignation, despair. Whatever was going on, it was big.

But he’d already known that.

Knox held his breath, feeling stupid for hoping she’d trust him and finally tell him the truth.

“I got a phone call.”

His heart thudded painfully. Maybe. Maybe.

“Your sister?”

Her ice-blue eyes finally jerked up to his, looking him squarely in the face. “No. Melody is fine.”

At least that was something.

“For now,” she whispered, so low that he wasn’t sure he’d heard her correctly.