Siren's Surrender (3 page)

Gwen nodded. “Yes. All the nonsmoking rooms are on the first floor. You’re number twenty-eight.”

Blake Whittaker nodded as he signed. “Good enough. There is a reserve on that room in case I decide to stay a second night, right?”

Gwen gave him back his card and license. “I’ve got the room on tentative hold until noon tomorrow. You’ll have to let me know by then whether or not you’re going to stay longer.”

Whittaker thought a moment, then shook his head. “I’m not sure how long business is going to take. Can you give me until around six to decide?”

She shook her head. “Check-out is at noon, and check-in begins by two. That’s the absolute latest I could hold the room.” If he was going to let it go, she’d still have to schedule it for cleaning. Since the maids left by one, that meant she’d have to clean it herself if she wanted it active.

“Come on . . .” Blake Whittaker’s gaze searched for and found her name tag. “Gwen. Surely as manager you’ve got a little pull around here.” He flashed a smile that lit up his eyes. For a moment he was almost animated.

“Owner,” Gwen corrected. “And you let me know something by at least four or I’ll go ahead and charge your card whether or not you stay on.”

He nodded. “Not going to miss a dime, are you?”

She widened her smile. “Not in this economy.”

Whittaker turned toward the wide bay windows overlooking the distant water. “You can save me a little time tomorrow by telling me the best way to reach Little Mer Island. Do they still run a skiff for tourists to see the lighthouse?”

Gwen shook her head. The island tours had ceased a couple of years after her parents were killed, and that had been over sixteen years ago. The fact that he had some familiarity with the island pegged him as a former local. “The island is closed to visitors nowadays,” she answered, keeping her answer short and simple. “The owners prefer their privacy.” If Whittaker entertained any notions of seeing the famous landmark, he’d have to do it from a distance.

Shifting gears, he said, “I’m actually going there on business, not to see the sights,” he countered. “I understand Kenneth Randall lives there with his wife, Tessa. She’s the actual owner of the island, right?”

Gwen’s heart lurched. “Yes, along with her sisters.” She narrowed her eyes. “And I’m one of them.”

Square jaw hardening, he nodded. “I know. That’s why I’m talking to you.”

Oh, yeah. He was a real funny guy. Just the kind she didn’t like. “So what do you want?”

Blake Whittaker reached back into his pocket. He flashed a badge. “FBI,” he said crisply. “I’m Special Agent Whittaker, from the field office in Boston.”

Gwen looked long and hard at the identification he presented. Damned if it didn’t look real.

Invisible fingers clamped tightly around her throat. Her attitude vanished. This could be serious. Very serious. What could the FBI possibly want with her brand-new brother-in-law? “I—I don’t understand. What’s going on?” Her voice was little more than a nervous squeak.

Whittaker noted her distress. “Now, calm down,” he countered. “It’s a routine follow-up. I just want to talk to them about the day Jake—” He broke off, fumbling for a small notebook.

Trying to clear her mind, Gwen suddenly felt both sick and shaky. She considered her options for a few seconds, then decided it wouldn’t be worth trying to pretend she knew nothing. Lying would only make things worse.

Mouth cotton-dry, she forced the single word out. “Massey.”

“Jake Massey. Right. About the circumstances under which he disappeared.”

The invisible fingers moved higher. Gwen’s head felt as though it were being squeezed in a vise grip. “I was under the impression the coast guard had already investigated the matter and concluded it was an accident.”

Whittaker tucked his badge away. “This is just a follow-up, ma’am. Nothing for you to get alarmed about. It’s standard procedure.”

Hearing his words of reassurance, Gwen naturally assumed the worst. “Surely you don’t think they killed Jake and threw him overboard or something like that,” she spluttered. The words sounded stupid the moment they left her mouth.

Brows knitting in obvious surprise, Whittaker looked at her with all the patience in the world. “I’m not saying anything of the sort, ma’am. I simply need to ask a few questions to clarify the facts.” He offered a brief smile. “And if I can get some cooperation, I’m pretty sure you can have your room back by two.”

Gwen looked at him suspiciously. You were never supposed to trust the men in black. “You won’t need to stay longer?”

In a gesture of appeasement, Whittaker put his hand over his heart. “Believe me when I say I sincerely hope I don’t have to spend more than one night in this town. In fact, I’d like to get the hell out ASAP.”

Gwen swallowed hard. “Meet me in the lobby at seven,” she allowed. “I’ll take you across the bay to Little Mer.” It wasn’t like he couldn’t get across himself. All he’d have to do was walk into the sheriff’s office and make the request.

A frown briefly cast a shadow on Whittaker’s features. “Sounds like a plan to me.” To distract himself, he glanced at his watch. “But if I’m going to make it out that early, I’m going to need some sleep.”

Licking her dry lips, Gwen allowed a thin smile. “Of course.” She pointed left. “Just follow that corridor to the end, and take the stairs.”

Agent Whittaker bent and claimed his single bag. “Thanks.”

Gwen forced out an answer. “My pleasure.” It wasn’t. She lied.

“Be here tomorrow, right?”

Jaw tightening, Gwen took a moment to clear her throat. “That’s what I said.”

“Thanks again. Appreciate your time.” Whittaker turned away from the desk, trekking back through the lobby.

Gwen watched him go, keeping an eye on him until he disappeared. At this point she didn’t trust this dude as far as she could throw him. The fact that he was poking around the events in the Mediterranean meant the matter wasn’t finished. Not by a long shot. Why waste valuable manpower running down the facts of an incident the U.S. Coast Guard had already cleared?

She fingered the folio she had yet to file. “Something’s up.”

And it all revolved around Jake Massey.

Although she couldn’t prove it as fact, Gwen suspected the archaeologist might have been involved in some unsavory business involving the smuggling of stolen artifacts. When he’d arrived back in Port Rock with the pieces purportedly gathered from the ruins of Ishaldi, he hadn’t exactly explained how he’d gotten them into the United States.

It wouldn’t be the first time Jake had been caught manipulating the facts, or using those manipulations to fatten his checkbook. After getting bounced out of U Maine and losing his sea grants, Jake had kicked around as a treasure hunter. Could be the feds weren’t interested in Ishaldi as a historical rediscovery, but rather the monetary value such a find would entail.

Sitting back down, Gwen pinched the bridge of her nose and squinched her eyes shut. “I shouldn’t have trusted the bastard.” Eager to keep Jake’s findings under some sort of control, she was the one who’d bought him back to Little Mer Island.

And, if she were brutally honest with herself, she had been more than willing to share in any of the bounty that might come to the surface. The hotel was breaking even, but barely, and Tessa was struggling under the upkeep on Little Mer. At that point in time, the money they had just wasn’t going far enough.

Their circumstances had changed, fortunately for the better.

Still, the last thing any one of them needed was a G-man poking his nose into their business. He might find out more than he needed to know.

Like that mermaid thing they were trying to keep on the QT.

Having the federal government in the know would be disastrous.

Gwen pressed a hand to her forehead. The beginnings of a headache beat at her temples. “I’ve got to squelch this,” she murmured.

The minutes ticked away. A plan began to take shape.

As the one taking Whittaker to the island, she had the upper hand. Keeping the agent by her side until he left Port Rock would allow her to control what he saw and heard.

All she had to do was give her sisters a little heads-up.

Retrieving her cell phone from her purse, Gwen pecked out a quick message and hit send. She could warn Addison, and Addison, in turn, could get word to Tessa and Kenneth.

A quick smile of satisfaction crossed her lips. She hated to be deceitful, but when it came to family, the Lonike girls had to stick together.

A
nchored just off the coast of Port Rock, Maine, the seventy-two-foot twin diesel-powered yacht bobbed gently on the water. A miasma of sparkling colors rippled across the waters of the Atlantic as the sun rose from the east, lighting the rocky shores of the distant island.

Smiling to himself, Jake Massey lowered his binoculars. There it was. A place he’d believed he’d never see again. Little Mer Island.

Stomach doing a quick backflip, his grip on the specs tightened. Damn. Even though four weeks had passed since the catastrophic events in the Mediterranean, he still couldn’t get over the fact Tessa Lonike had tried to end his life.

Jake’s teeth clenched. “Goddamned bitch,” he muttered. “She hasn’t seen the last of me.”

Not by any means.

He lifted his binoculars again, gaze searching every familiar inch of the island. The sun’s light reflected off the glass tower of the lighthouse, as though winking to acknowledge a secret between the two of them.

Turnabout is fair play, baby,
he thought. It was only a matter of time.

A voice from behind interrupted. “She is there?”

Glancing at the woman who’d walked up, Jake nodded. “Yes. That’s the place.”

Queen Magaera leaned into the rail surrounding the small observation deck. “Good. We need her as soon as possible.”

Jake eyed his new partner with appreciation. Dressed in a flowing caftan in a shade of aquamarine, she’d arranged her hair in a crown of silver-blond braids. Her alabaster skin was clear, untouched by the vanity of cosmetics. Shoulders thrown back, chin thrust out as if in challenge, she looked like a woman used to getting her way.

“We’re close to getting her back,” he said. “Another day and we’ll be on our way to Ishaldi.” Thanks to an accident with her Mercraft, Tessa had unintentionally keyed the sea-gate to accept only her psychic resonance. No one could enter or leave the lost city unless Tessa led the way.

Magaera allowed a slight smile. “Good. I want the sea-gate reopened as soon as possible. I will require more than eight soldiers to retake our share of the Mediterranean waters.”

Jake offered a terse nod. “I don’t see why we can’t accomplish that. The waters rightfully belong to the Mer people.”

A thin smile of approval parted Queen Magaera’s lips. “I am pleased you have chosen to stand at my side as the Mer attempt to regain what they have lost.” Her accented voice lent each word an exotic edge. English wasn’t her native language, but the Mer had a telepathic ability that allowed them to pick up foreign tongues very quickly.

There was no denying their intelligence. The Mer were unquestionably the superior race when compared to mere human beings. Even their technology, which was thousands of years old, was impressive.

Jake pressed a hand over his heart. “Of course I will. I have pledged my loyalty and will serve you to the best of my ability.” In the back of his mind he counted up all the advantages he’d recently gained by switching his loyalty to the queen and her minions. For one, it had saved his ass from execution.

At this point, staying alive was a victory.

Queen Magaera cocked her head. “I trust you not to betray me.” Her gaze was distant, noncommittal. She was still wary of humans, those she considered to be members of the lesser species. It would take more than vague oaths to earn her confidence. He had to prove his loyalty with action.

Jake could hardly blame her. Through the last month her nerves had been frayed to the max. Making the transition from her dying world to a strange new land was difficult. A mermaid’s natural instinct was to remain in the water, far beneath the surface.

Not that she’d had much choice. Though the Mer could live in the water their whole lives, a human being could not. The only way Jake could survive was by returning to land. Thank God for the Algerian trawler engaged in a little illegal deep-sea fishing.

He blew out a breath. “Of course not. I’ve done everything I said I would.”

Queen Magaera tightened her grip on the railing. “I suppose I have no choice but to trust a
husla,
a lesser.” She turned her attention back to the wide-open space of the Atlantic. “There was once a time when we Mer owned the waters of this planet.”

He hurried to reassure her. “And you will again.”

“It must be soon.” The queen lifted her hand to the gem hanging around her neck. “I sense restlessness in those left behind.”

Jake nodded resolutely. “I promise it won’t be much longer.” He flicked his head, missing the brush of long hair against his shoulders. Alas, he’d had to part with his long blond locks when he’d assumed his new identity. As far as the world was concerned, Jake Massey, archaeologist and explorer, had perished in the Mediterranean Sea during a diving accident.

At least that was what the newspapers had said.

Truth be told, right now he was better off as missing, presumed dead. If no search-and-rescue teams were looking for him, then they wouldn’t be poking around the site where the sea-gate was located.

After Tessa had blasted the undersea temple to bits, all hell had broken lose. Jake barely remembered anything, just a rush of water followed by a cold black void. Before losing consciousness in the frigid abyss, he was sure he was a goner.