Deep Blue Death, page 1
DEEP BLUE DEATH
A JAMI LARAMIE MYSTERY
BOOK ONE
SHARYN BRADFORD LUNN
CONTENTS
Chapter 1
Chapter 2
Chapter 3
Chapter 4
Chapter 5
Chapter 6
Chapter 7
Chapter 8
Chapter 9
Chapter 10
Chapter 11
Chapter 12
Chapter 13
Chapter 14
Chapter 15
Chapter 16
Chapter 17
Chapter 18
Chapter 19
Chapter 20
Chapter 21
Chapter 22
Chapter 23
Chapter 24
Chapter 25
Chapter 26
Chapter 27
Chapter 28
Chapter 29
Chapter 30
Chapter 31
Chapter 32
Chapter 33
Chapter 34
Chapter 35
Chapter 36
Chapter 37
Chapter 38
Chapter 39
Chapter 40
Chapter 41
Chapter 42
Afterword
Acknowledgments
Peril in the Pines
About the Author
Books by Sharyn Bradford Lunn
Deep Blue Death
A Jami Laramie Mystery, book one
© 2023 Sharyn Bradford Lunn
This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, businesses, and incidents either are the products of the author’s imagination or are used in a fictitious manner. Any similarity to events or locales or persons, living or dead, is entirely coincidental.
No part of this publication may be reproduced, stored, or transmitted, given away or re-sold in any form, or by any means whatsoever (electronic, mechanical, etc.) without the prior written permission and consent of the publisher. Thank you for being respectful of the hard work of the author.
Published by thewordverve (www.thewordverve.com)
Canton, GA
First Edition 2023
eBook ISBN: 978-1-956856-35-4
Paperback ISBN: 978-1-956856-36-1
Library of Congress Control Number: 2023906084
Cover and Interior Design by thewordverve
CHAPTER ONE
A knock at the hotel room door sent a semi-naked Jami Laramie scurrying for the shirt she’d recently discarded. She was on a call with her mother back in Denver, Colorado, letting her know she’d arrived safely in Australia, but she quickly shut the conversation down. “Call you back soon, Mom,” she said as she threw on the white silk shirt over beige trousers.
Of course, she hadn’t wanted to hang up, but the news her mother had shared required her full attention. Her parents were getting divorced. Apparently, her father had been having an affair for some time and had already moved out of the family home to be with the other woman.
She threw the phone on the bed and headed for the door. She certainly wasn’t expecting any visitors so soon after her arrival.
She was here in Rockpool Bay, Australia, as a volunteer—to work with a team of marine archaeologists on the site of an ancient Dutch shipwreck. Her mother’s news had Jami wanting to just turn around and head back home, but she’d made a commitment and refused to let the team down. In all her time as a field archaeologist, she’d never bowed out of a project at the last minute, and she had no plans to start now. Besides, leaving them in a lurch would reflect negatively on her career. Who needed that kind of baggage on their record? Not me, Jami thought, then realized she was chewing her thumbnail and just staring at the door.
The knock came again.
She would need to call her father soon as well. She dreaded the thought.
The knock at the door sounded again, louder this time. Impatient, she swung open the door with her jaw set, irritated.
“Can I help you with something?” she asked, a slight bite to her tone.
The man said nothing, just lazily eyeballed her—top to bottom, in fact—from beneath a shock of unruly brown hair. He took a step back, clearly amused, then rolled his eyes as he jammed a hand into the front pocket of his faded jeans.
Fearing she’d left something exposed in her haste, Jami glanced down at her attire, found nothing amiss, and returned her attention to the man, who now rested a forearm on the doorjamb. Far from amused, she asked again, “Can I help you with something?”
“I bet you could,” the man said through a wicked grin. Then he shook his head, as if to shake away whatever untoward thoughts may have been on his mind. “Anyway, I’d hoped you’d be ready to leave right away.”
“And you are?” Jami cocked an eyebrow, one hand on a hip. She then realized who he might be—the person who was supposed to ferry her out to the shipwreck. Regardless, the least he could do was introduce himself first.
“Right. Sorry about that. I’m Cole Cadman. At your service, Ms. Laramie,” he said with a theatrical bow. “It’s time for us to head out.”
Jami rolled her eyes and blew out a sigh. “I was about to take a shower. I wasn’t expecting to be picked up so soon.” She took a step back from his towering presence, though she was having a hard time ignoring his chiseled features, face and body alike.
“Sorry about that. No can do.” He pushed himself off the doorjamb, clearly waiting for an invitation to enter.
She did not oblige. “You’re two hours early, and I’ve been traveling for days. I’m taking that shower. Come back in two hours.” She started to close the door, but he stuck his foot in the way, halting her efforts.
“No time for that. We need to get cracking.”
Jami’s mouth fell open at his abruptness. Is this guy for real? All she could do in that moment was stare. And he stared right back, challenging her with his magnetic baby blues, a jolting hue of aquamarine that she’d not seen before in real life.
He was tall and lean with plenty of sinewy muscle. His hair was slightly damp—from the heat, she suspected—and the dark locks hung low over his brow, curled up at the ends near the nape of his neck. His wrinkled white shirt was unbuttoned halfway down his chest, and his jeans fit him easily, not too tight, not too loose.
Just right.
Stop it, Jami.
She’d heard about the legendary bronzed Aussie male, and at first glance, it looked like her stay in Australia could turn out to be far more enjoyable than she ever imagined. Well, if he wasn’t so inconsiderate. Or so sweaty and unkempt. He looked like he’d just run a marathon.
But damn, that tanned, glowing hunk of a—
She bit her figurative tongue and stepped aside with a scowl, allowing him to enter the room.
Conscious of her scrutiny, the man fumbled with his undone shirt buttons. “I threw this on to come into the hotel. They’ve a dress code.” He shrugged and gave her a sheepish grin. “It’s stinking hot outside.”
“Right. Precisely why I’d like a shower before we go. I’ve been on a train, a plane, and then a bus for the last forty-eight hours, and I really would appreciate a shower before we leave. You can wait in the lobby.”
He said nothing.
“Surely you understand,” she persisted. “Hell, you look like you could use one yourself.”
A wicked glint instantly sparked in his gaze, making her regret what he obviously interpreted as an invitation. His jaw had also dropped a little, but not for long. That grin was making a reappearance in a big way. She felt the hot tingle of blood surging to her cheeks.
The man ran his finger through his thick hair. “Thanks for the offer, uh, but I really need to get back to the ship. Someone on board has gone missing, plus there’s a squall forecast later this afternoon, and I don’t want to be in the cabin cruiser when it hits. If we go now, we’ll have just enough time to reach the Seaclaim. A ship like her can weather a storm like the one that’s coming. We can freshen up on board then if you like.” He gave a cheeky wink, adding, “Provided you still have a mind to, of course.”
Jami groaned and turned away. She knew she’d pretty much asked for it, and he was only being frivolous, but still…
She was weary of men who only had one thing on their minds, which unfortunately had been her experience with Michael, the guy she’d recently kicked to the curb—and others before him. She loathed the controlling tactics, always dismissive of her ideas and needs. Not to mention that Michael was a straight-up manwhore. Even tried to make a move on her best friend! Fortunately, Nicole had remained loyal, but that had been the straw that broke the camel’s back. It left Jami deflated and wary … and yet, here she was, drooling over this handsome man before her.
A hopeless romantic she was.
A self-inflicted curse, but she couldn’t help it. She still believed true love would come her way, believed it wholeheartedly. Maybe even with this stranger in front of her. She quickly shoved that idea aside and refocused.
“You know I didn’t mean it that way,” she said.
He laughed. “Yeah, but you kinda asked for it.”
“Can we just move on? You said someone has gone missing from the ship?”
“Yes, one of the junior members of the team. He was the one meant to pick you up this afternoon, but he was nowhere to be found, so I had to come instead. Hopefully, they’ve found him by now, but I want to get back on board pronto.”
“Maybe the guy had too much to drink or something like that? And he’s sleeping it off somewhere?”
“There was a bit of a celebration going on last night, so I would guess the same—if it were anyone other than Josh. He’s not a partier by any stretch.” He shifted his stance and hooked his thumbs in his pockets. “I’m concerned.”
His admission caused her mind to shift gears, to focus not on herself but on this missing person, one of her teammates whom she’d not yet met. “Right, we should get going.” She turned to the large blue suitcase on the bed, its contents strewn haphazardly across the quilt. She sighed, resigned to the fact that she wasn’t getting her shower just yet. “Let me just …” And she began to repack. “How did you know where to find me, anyway? I hadn’t called in just yet to let anyone know where I was, or even that I’d arrived.”
“It’s not hard to find someone in a small place like this. People talk. I only had to ask a few questions down around Main Street to learn you’d already checked into a hotel.”
Jami blew out a long breath, which caused some loose strands of blond hair to flutter around her face. She had so wanted a quiet afternoon before heading to the Seaclaim. Just a few hours to indulge in a little luxury. She knew the Seaclaim would not be equipped with extravagant facilities. Money was always tight on archaeological ventures, and expenditures were generally kept to a bare minimum.
As soon as she was repacked, Jami retrieved her jacket from the chair, slipped into it, and turned toward her escort with what she hoped was now a smile of confidence and control. She was a college graduate with degrees in anthropology and archaeology, after all. At twenty-eight years of age, Jami Laramie had seen a bit of the world and considered herself seasoned and fairly streetwise, even if she was a sucker for romance. She was here for one reason only—to broaden her education and experience, and that required concentration, dedication, and a certain amount of mature intellect. She wasn’t about to even entertain the thought of rushing down the relationship rabbit hole while she was here, no matter how easy on the eyes this guy was.
Why am I arguing with myself?
They walked in silence to the lobby and out onto the steamy street of Australia’s small coastal city of Rockpool Bay.
Several months ago, when the Seaclaim salvage team had called for international volunteers with diving experience to assist in the salvage of artifacts from the recently discovered Dutch wreck, the Zuytwyck, Jami had jumped at the chance, completing her application the same day she’d read about the adventure. She knew hundreds of others were battling for the same spot, so she was surprised and pleased to receive the acceptance letter. She supposed her “selling point” was that she was experienced in on-site archaeology, both in the Middle East and Central America, and had made a few pleasure dives on sunken vessels in the Caribbean.
The Zuytwyck went down in 1620 while on a voyage between Amsterdam and Batavia, now known as Djakarta in Indonesia. Working with a team of well-respected marine archaeologists offered Jami a new challenge. She planned to learn all she could over the next few weeks, so she’d be well-prepared for work in the Mediterranean and, eventually, hopefully, the sunken parts of the ancient Egyptian city of Alexandria—an area that fascinated her to no end. She had never had the opportunity to dive on the site of such an old wreck as the Zuytwyck.
No records of what the Zuytwyck was actually carrying when she’d foundered were available, but it was hoped some valuable artifacts would be brought up. The Western Australian government was so confident of the ship’s bounty that they had partly financed the expedition, the remainder being met by the federal government and independent investors. But it was acknowledged by all concerned that whatever was found legally became government property and would eventually find its home in a Western Australian museum.
They left the hotel and stepped into the all-engulfing heat of the nearly deserted street. Jami shot a side-eye at her companion, whose goofy grin was at odds with his concern for the missing team member.
“I should have asked this earlier, but, uh, do you have any kind of, say, proof that you’re really with the Seaclaim expedition?” she asked with a stab of alarm as she tried to recall their conversation at the door.
“I certainly do. Proof right here,” he replied, that mischievous twinkle deepening in those incredibly blue eyes as he produced a plastic ID card bearing the name Cole Cadman beneath Seaclaim’s logo. The photograph certainly did him no justice. Next time, Jami vowed to ask to see an ID first. For all she knew, he could have been a serial killer. She knew better than to go waltzing off with strangers, but she’d been flummoxed by his unannounced arrival, not to mention his bone-melting looks.
“What’s with the smirk? How about letting me in on the joke?” she asked, after they’d crossed the street and turned toward the bay.
“Sorry,” he said, but she could tell that he was anything but sorry; the grin remained, maybe even a bit broader now. “You see, they’re all expecting a man. When they get a load of you, they’re going to—”
“There was nothing in the advertisement that stipulated the volunteer must be male,” Jami cut in. She had always excelled in her chosen career. These days there were countless female archaeologists, so the outdated concept that a woman couldn’t do the job was downright irritating. “I’m a qualified archaeologist with diving experience, so I’m quite capable of performing whatever task is required.”
“I don’t doubt that you can do the work, luv, but …”
“I’d rather you didn’t call me that,” she said. “My name is Jami.”
Cole glanced at her from under raised eyebrows but chose to ignore the dig. “It’s just that with a name like Jami—could be a foreign version of James or Jameson—well, everyone assumed you’d be a man. Nothing more sinister than that. Lighten up, will you?”
Jami blew out a low sigh. Of course, it had to do with her name. She should be used to that by now. “Whatever,” was all she said.
“All I’m saying is everyone will be surprised.” He stepped in front of her and walked backward as his gaze swept over her, one arm splayed, the other still dragging her suitcase. “A nice surprise. Nothing to get yourself riled up about, luv.”
She suspected he really did mean nothing by it, but the mere fact that the word had slipped out again suggested he either didn’t care or was totally unaware that these days most women didn’t appreciate being addressed that way. Was he a caveman? “Maybe you could try harder,” she said with little attempt to curb her annoyance. “And I don’t particularly appreciate being ogled like you just did there either. You might try to moderate that as well. Hmm?” No sooner were the words out than she regretted them, painfully aware her irritation was due in large part to being tired—and the anger she felt toward her father.
Still walking backward, he barked out a laugh. “Ha! As if you’re innocent in that department. I’m not the only ogler here.”
Jami flushed. What he was saying was the truth, but she wasn’t about to admit it.
Cole continued. “It works both ways, you know. So perhaps you should try stepping down into the real world, Miss High and Mighty. Out here, we don’t stand too much on ceremony. Most people couldn’t give two hoots about your politically correct ideas.” His eyes swept up and down her length again. “Or the latest city fashions and gossip, for that matter. I call it latte-sipping city-slicker rubbish, and that sort of thing won’t cut it out here. But you’ll learn that soon enough.” He spun around to face forward and picked up his pace.
Jami stood in her tracks for a moment, jaw agape, an apology still sitting on her lips.
