One Dark Wish, page 12
“Yes.” She leaned over his shoulder. Her gardenia scent riled up every masculine part of him, and he shifted forward to hide his reaction to her. “Remember the compass rose in the corner? The one with north off by thirty degrees?”
“I do.” Two weeks ago, when he’d brought her the hard copy of the map, she’d discovered that the compass rose was “broken.” But neither one of them had thought it mattered.
She put on her glasses and moved until her breast brushed his arm. “Below the compass rose. What do you see?”
Sweat lined his brow, and it took all of his strength to read. Below the compass rose, someone had scrawled P1C3S4L2R4 in faint script. “It’s an alphanumeric sequence. Similar to what’s on the heroin bags.”
She took off her glasses. “Yes.”
He wiped his brow with his arm. Had the AC stopped working? “That map was over three hundred years old.”
She touched his arm. “Are you okay? You look hot.”
“I’m fine.” He pressed his fists on the table. “What connects two heroin busts years apart, a seventeenth-century map of an isolated sea island, and a group of ex–Green Berets?”
“A cipher.” She pointed to her résumé. “More specifically, the Prideaux pirate cipher.”
Chapter 14
Sarah exhaled the breath she’d held since leaving the gym. Now she struggled to ignore the fact that Nate was bare-chested. With his green gaze following her, he exuded a raw intensity she’d never experienced. Her offer to put salve on his arms had been altruistic. She’d seen how his burns had tightened his skin and knew the salve would help with the pain.
She’d not expected to be so turned on from touching him. He didn’t just look like he was made of muscle, he felt like it too. Avoiding the scars on his front and back had also been a priority. He’d not mentioned the cuts, lashes, or puckered scar tissue, so she hadn’t either.
She adjusted her glasses. “I believe the sequence on the map and the heroin bags are part of an unsolved pirate cipher.”
“Excuse me?”
“Most seventeenth-century ciphers were substitution ciphers, except for this one that was originally developed by the Prideaux pirates.” She pointed to the map on her phone. “That sequence is only part of the cipher.”
“Did you know this when we met two weeks ago?”
“Yes.” She scrunched her nose. “As soon as I saw the map, I knew it was connected to my cipher. That’s why I took a photo of it.” She reached out to touch his arm, but when he inhaled sharply, she dropped her hand. “I’m sorry I didn’t mention it at the time.”
“It’s okay.” He clasped his hands behind his neck and studied the photos on the table. He seemed unaware that every time he breathed his chest muscles rippled. She couldn’t imagine being so comfortable in such a physically strong body. “Why do you call it your cipher?”
“My mother told me about this pirate cipher when I was little.” Sarah sat and smoothed her skirt over her knees. “It was part of my thesis that ended up in The British Journal.”
He dropped his hands to his hips. “You want to solve this pirate cipher.”
“No. It’s unsolvable. And probably cursed.” She pointed to Hugh’s recent crime scene photo of the dead dealer. “These things usually are.”
Nate sank into the nearby chair, his head in his palms. “Sarah, you’re killing me.”
She touched his knee, amazed at the warmth that came through his jeans. When he raised his head, his eyes shimmered with…pain? “Do you need more tea?”
“No!” He shook his head. “I’m sorry. I’ll be better when you tell me what’s going on.”
His thigh muscles flexed beneath her hand, and she removed it. Was the rest of his body as hard as his arms? Heat flooded her cheeks, and she returned to her tea bags. It would be easier to tell the story while moving. “It all comes back to Rebecca Prideaux. When she decided to run away with Thomas Toban, she stole the key to her family’s pirate cipher.”
“The story you told me earlier.” Nate tilted his head. “That was the leverage she had over her family?”
“Yes.” Sarah found the cinnamon shaker. Cinnamon would help with the tea’s smell, which sometimes caused nausea even before someone drank it. “That cipher key gave Rebecca leverage over most of the families on the isle.”
He stood on the other side of the counter to hold open the bags while she sprinkled in cinnamon. “What did the cipher do? Was it a way to encrypt messages?”
“No. The cipher was used to move stolen merchandise.”
“How?”
“The Prideaux pirates were wildly successful marauders. But they required safe places to hide their goods while they made their deals. Piracy was one thing. Dumping stolen goods onto the open marketplace was a different venture.”
Nate chuckled. “I’ve never thought about how difficult it was for pirates to sell their goods.”
“More difficult than people realize.” She took a cut ribbon, and with Nate holding the pouch, she tied it closed. “This is where things get…controversial. I believe the Prideaux family built hide sites along the coasts of South Carolina and Georgia to protect and move their merchandise.”
“Cellars?”
“Kind of.” She handed him another pouch. “More like underground rooms, with tunnel access, beneath mausoleums in private cemeteries on isolated sea islands and along deserted coastlines.”
“These coastlines are below sea level. Nobody has basements around here.”
“They were built underground, along tidal estuaries.” She spoke as Nate held the other bags and she filled them with tea and cinnamon. “Each hide site would be lined with an oyster shell–like waterproof concrete called opus signinum. It’s what the Romans used to line their aqueducts. Drainpipes were added to the hide sites to help the water fill and drain.”
“Huh.” Nate tied two bags.
“The hide sites would fill and drain depending on the season, the weather, and the moon phases. Different hide sites were in use at different times, but no one person ever knew which ones hid what merchandise and which ones were flooded. Hence the cipher.”
“Now you lost me.”
“I believe each sequence is a reference to a specific hide site under a specific tomb. Because the Prideaux pirates didn’t want anyone to figure out where their hide sites were, they encrypted the names of tombs that sat on top, protecting the hide sites.”
He studied her for a moment before saying, “If you know the substitution key, you can decode the alphanumeric sequences and learn the name of the tombs?”
“Yes.” She cut a few more ribbons. “You still have to find the location of the tombs and figure out when they’re dry, but having names is a great start.”
Nate held the last two tea bags. “If a historian solves these sequences, she can find the hide sites—”
“Proving the hide sites even exist—”
“Thereby saving her career.”
She glanced at him, not surprised that he’d figured her out. “Yes.” She finished tying the bags and put them into a brown lunch bag she found in a lower cabinet.
“What are you doing?”
“These are for you.” She handed him the brown bag. “Drink two cups a day. Four is better. Add honey sparingly. If you send me your address, I can mail you more.” To keep her hands busy, she sponged off the counter of dried tea leaves and white satin ribbon cuttings.
She wasn’t sure why she was going through all this trouble for him, but she couldn’t bear the thought of him dealing with those headaches alone. Then she thought of something else: Maybe he wasn’t going to be alone.
She threw the sponge in the sink, and a bitter taste formed in her mouth.
He put the bag into the pocket of his jacket. “Thank you.” Without looking at her, he stacked the photos and returned them to the file.
“Nate.” She left the sink and sank into the chair again. “I wish…I don’t know.” Her voice drifted away.
“I have to leave.” He knelt and took her hands in his. “But I want you to know that I’m going alone. There’s no one else. There hasn’t been for a long, long time.”
Now he could read her mind? She closed her eyes, hating the realization that his long-term single status made her happy.
Nate squeezed her hands until she opened her eyes. “I wish I didn’t have to go, but I do.”
“I barely know you, yet I don’t want you to go.” She tilted her head. “Why do you have to leave?”
“It’s an army thing.”
She withdrew her hands from his. “Oh.”
“I need to get back to the gym.” He stood. “I have things to do before I leave.”
“What about that file?” She rose as well. “And your boss spying on us?”
He found his phone. “I’ll talk to him.” He tapped a text. “When I get an answer, I’ll let you know.”
Was this goodbye? She smoothed her hands across her waistline. “And our map and photos and connections?”
“Cassio told you to stop researching all of that.” Nate put on his coat, found his weapon, and shoved it in his waistband. He did that so easily, without any effort or thought, that the gun seemed to be an extension of his person. “Don’t get into a legalistic argument with a Fianna warrior. You won’t win.”
She didn’t care about the stupid Fianna, stupid Cassio, or the stupid army. All she cared about was when she’d see Nate again. When he’d kiss her again. “Nate?”
He stood inches away, his gaze fixed on her mouth. “Yes?”
“I…uh…” Why was she nervous around him? Was it the way he stared at her? Like he wanted to protect her and devour her at the same time? Or was it his politeness? How he listened to everything as if he cared? “Do you need a ride?” Seriously? That was the opposite of brave.
His eyebrows formed a V. “No—”
“I’m sorry.” She laughed away her lack of courage. “What I meant was…your headaches… If you don’t want to ride your bike, I can drive you.”
A flush flooded his cheeks. “Oh. That—” His phone buzzed, and he checked his messages. “I’m not supposed to drive because I get migraines that cause vision problems.”
“I didn’t mean to make you uncomfortable.” Her ringing phone on the table saved her. The caller ID said Calum Prioleau. “Hi, Calum.”
“I have news.” Calum let out a breath. “I can’t get your dad out without a judge’s order.”
“How long will that take?”
“Not sure. Also…your father suffered a massive seizure. He’s in the ICU.”
“Excuse me?” Her father was in the ICU and no one called her? “May I see him?”
“Unfortunately, no.”
“What’s wrong?” Nate asked.
She covered the phone to whisper, “My dad’s in the ICU. A seizure.”
Nate’s eyes widened, and he sat on one of the counter stools.
“Your father isn’t allowed visitors,” Calum continued. “Even if he was, they won’t let you see him without a judge’s permission.”
“Why not?”
“Sarah…” Calum paused, as if searching for the right words. “Did you not read the admittance papers?”
“Honestly, Calum, I was so stressed, I only skimmed the first part about my father’s involuntary commitment. I do remember Miss Tidwell saying something about poor nutrition. Why?”
“They’ve accused you of elder abuse.”
She gripped the counter. “That’s absurd. What evidence do they have?”
“They say you’ve been poisoning him with herbal tea.”
* * *
Nate took the phone out of Sarah’s hand and helped her sit. Her face had paled, making her wide eyes appear not just darker and rounded but more haunted.
“Calum? It’s Nate. What’s wrong?”
“They’ve accused Sarah of elder abuse, and she’s not allowed to see her father. He’s also in the ICU.”
“Can you keep us updated?”
“Yes. And please tell Sarah this is my firm’s number one priority. We’ll get her in to see her father as quickly as possible.”
“I will. Thanks.” Nate tossed the phone into her bag and took both of her hands in his. They were freezing, and he rubbed them to warm her fingers. “Sarah?”
She stared out at the garden. “They took my father, and I can’t see him.”
“I know. Calum will fix this.”
She withdrew her hands to pace the kitchen. “I may lose my father. I’ve already lost my mother. Without him, I’m alone.”
“I understand, Sarah.” Nate met her in the middle of the kitchen and took her shoulders. “I lost both of my parents when I was thirteen.”
She inhaled sharply. “Oh, Nate. I’m sorry.”
He nodded. “I know. Everyone is sorry.”
“It doesn’t help, does it?”
He couldn’t lie to her. Not about this. “No.”
She took his face in her hands and moved in until he could see tiny marks on her forehead. She’d probably had chicken pox as a kid. “I am sorry. You were a baby. I was sixteen when I learned what it was like to be lost, when I learned that kind of pain was possible, when I learned that life moved on whether you wanted it to or not.”
He covered her hands with his and kissed her forehead. Although he’d kissed her twice now, for some reason this kiss felt more intimate. She closed her eyes and rested her head against his chest. He enclosed her in his arms, rested his chin on her head, and shut his eyes. The constant noise in his head lessened, and his breath evened out. He didn’t know what it was about this woman, but when he was with her, his world stopped spinning, and his restlessness quieted.
Life after his parents’ deaths hadn’t just moved on for him. It had grown in volume and frequency until it spun out of control, throwing him into the army’s no-man’s land of chaos and indifference. Where he’d once sought order and self-discipline, he’d received violence and suffering. Now all he craved was peace.
Sarah drew away from him again, wiping her eyes again. He decided his only wish for the future was a time when she stayed in his arms, sought his protection, and ached for his touch.
Since she didn’t look capable of choosing tea versus coffee, he took charge. Even if he destroyed his own self-esteem in the process. “If you don’t mind, I’d like a ride to the gym.”
She raised an eyebrow.
“On the way, I’ll call Calum. Maybe he can drop off a bag for your father.”
“My dad is in the ICU.”
“If your father is as tough as Kells’s report says he is, he won’t be there for long. I’m sure he’d appreciate anything you want to send him.”
She wiped her eyes with the heels of her hands. “Okay. I’ll pack his duffel.”
“What else do you need?”
“My straw bag.”
He put it on the table. It was so heavy it tipped over and something fell onto the floor. An envelope with his name on the outside. “What’s this?”
“I forgot.” She picked it up and handed it to him. “Someone shoved it through the gym’s mail slot, and I found it when I came back to see you. It’s why I came back to see you.”
He turned it over. “What do you mean?”
“The person who dropped it off had been standing in that old service station near the gym, watching you. I drove away, but the creepy guy bothered me. Maybe it was his black hoodie.”
“This man in a black hoodie…did you see his face?”
“No. It was covered.”
He turned the envelope over. There were no identifying marks other than his name.
“Nate, have you seen the hooded man before?”
“This morning. On the isle. After you left, I…uh…saw him, and he disappeared.” The unsealed envelope was easy to open. A single sheet came out, and he unfolded it.
“It’s your map. The one you brought to me to study two weeks ago.” She smiled at him. “It’s the reason we met.”
Which made it their map.
“How did that creepy man get it?” she asked.
Two weeks ago Nate had traded it to a Fianna warrior but didn’t want to talk about that now. “Not sure.”
She raised it up to the light. “There’s the alphanumeric sequence below the compass rose.”
He shook the envelope and saw two lines written on the inside flap.
Hic est finis iter est scriptor
Do not trust Kells Torridan
Nate blinked. The crazy colors flashed behind his eyes again, and his leg muscles contracted. He gripped the counter and his heart, which had been racing a moment ago, doubled up on the beats per second.
She touched his shoulder. “Nate?”
He could barely control each breath.
“Are you alright?” Her cool hand touched his hot neck. “Do you want to sit down?”
What he wanted to do was lie down in a soft bed, in the dark, with her next to him. Instead, he grunted. She took his hand and led him to the couch. Once horizontal, he covered his face with his arm.
“Here.” She spoke so softly he dared to open his eyes. “Water.”
He lifted his head enough to drink a few sips. He tasted blood and realized he must’ve bitten his tongue. When she placed a cool, damp towel on his forehead, he asked, “Do you have coffee or Coke? Something with caffeine?”
“Yes.”
After drawing the draperies to darken the room, she returned with a Coke. It was cold and sweet, and he moaned when it hit the back of his throat.
“Hic est finis iter est scriptor,” she said, from the kitchen. “Does the phrase mean anything to you?”
“Here is my journey’s end.”
