Deep Blue Death, page 3
“You seem to be accusing me of illegal intent without even knowing me.” Jami folded her arms across her chest. “I have absolutely no intention of trying to gain financially from your wrecks—Dutch, Chinese, or otherwise. I have never profited from my work in the past, except in the form of my salary, which is often insufficient to keep me out of the red, and I certainly don’t intend to start now. You might at least give me the benefit of the doubt.”
“But that’s precisely my point. I don’t know you. Would you trust a total stranger with such remarkable information?” He glanced at her for an answer. When none came, he turned away and continued. “I doubt that you would.”
“You’re probably right,” Jami eventually admitted. “But you could still cut me a little slack. I’m just curious, that’s all.”
Cole blew out a long breath. “Look, I apologize if I’ve come across a little impatient. It’s just that right now my mind is on things more important than rumors.”
“The missing team member?” Perhaps she should have been more sensitive. Just because she didn’t know the missing person didn’t excuse her thoughtlessness. It had to be affecting the entire team in one way or another. Quite clearly, Cole was worried, so maybe it was time for her to cut him a little slack. “Want to talk about it?”
“No, not particularly.”
Well, at least she’d tried. If he couldn’t trust her with wreck coordinates, he was unlikely to trust her with his feelings. The heat of the day was made worse by the flush spreading across her cheeks. Jami removed her jacket, and Cole returned his gaze from the ocean. She could almost feel him calculating the cost of her clothing rather than assessing her character. Had she imagined the almost imperceptible curl of his upper lip as he turned away?
Whatever. She stared out over the vast expanse of water in front of her. Cole would just have to learn to believe in her good intentions or he could jump off a cliff, for all she cared.
Jami shook her head and got to her feet. “Obviously, this is going nowhere. Maybe I should give you a little space.”
“Good call,” Cole said with an element of mirth. “Because you, my dear Miss Latte Laramie, are one of the most grating women I’ve ever met.”
Jami shot him a look fit to turn any man to soot and stormed from the cockpit, failing to heed the low-slung canopy. Only at the very last second did she attempt to duck and the support rod clipped the top of her head. Tears welled, and she fought them back. She was not about to show any sign of weakness in front of this man, especially since he was now laughing. Instead, she strode to the stern, plonked herself down on the old crate again, and ran her fingers through her short, blond hair to locate the lump that was already forming. She winced, far more from frustration than pain. She could certainly do without the insufferable, mistrusting Cole Cadman. There was no way she could tolerate much more of him, so it was reassuring to know that he would soon drop out of her life as quickly and easily as he had dropped into it. If their paths never crossed again once she was safely aboard the Seaclaim, no sleep would be lost on her part.
But the fact that he knew so much about maritime archaeology and salvage kept playing upon her mind. It seemed to imply something more than him being a fisherman, like he was more involved with the Seaclaim team than she’d originally thought, and the notion disturbed her immensely.
She may be dealing with this ogre for longer than just this boat ride.
CHAPTER FOUR
The Seaclaim turned out to be a much larger vessel than Jami anticipated. An enormous red hull capped by a stark white superstructure loomed from an inky, flat sea as the cabin cruiser approached. The boat was the only splash of color within the many shades of gray embracing the threatening sky and sea. Jami was pleased they would soon be off the small cabin cruiser, not wanting to battle any raging seas on anything but a larger, sturdy vessel like the Seaclaim.
The air was almost completely still as they pulled alongside the stern of the salvage vessel. It was still warm, but the atmosphere was heavy with moisture and laden with salt, cloying in the extreme. Lightning pierced the clouds in the distance. Jami breathed deeply, expanding her lungs and soaking in this new eerie sensation. It was one of those “calm before the storm” situations, and she’d never before experienced it on a boat, far out in the ocean. On land, this deceiving serenity somehow did not appear so intense.
Once Jami clambered from the Seaclaim’s rear swim board and over the transom to the deck, she found herself surrounded by a clutter of diving and excavation equipment. There was barely room to move, but she managed to pick a path through the maze just as the first splotches of rain started to come down. Sheltering under a makeshift canvas awning, she waited while Cole anchored his cabin cruiser some hundred meters east of the main vessel, then came streaking toward her in a yellow inflatable boat, a Zodiac, powered by an outboard motor.
With the Zodiac safely secured at the stern, Cole unceremoniously tossed her suitcase on board then proceeded to remove the outboard motor from its mount. It was not worth the risk of it plummeting to the bottom or its blades damaging the PVC craft should it break free during the squall. Cole then stood to his full height, carrying the heavy motor effortlessly in one hand and placing it beside the others on a rack built specially to house them. Jami was gaping at his now drenched frame when he turned to retrieve her suitcase from its landing place amid the jumble of diving equipment.
Jami sprang forward, quickly crossing the space between them, determined not to accept any more of his favors, no matter how convenient they may be.
“I’ll take it,” she said, grappling with the handle already in his hand.
“There’s no need. Get yourself back under shelter. You’ll be freezing soon.”
Jami stood firm, her hand still clutching the handle of her suitcase. She felt the heat from his hand against her fingers in stark contrast to the coolness of the rain now bucketing down.
Cole took her elbow with his free hand and attempted to steer her toward midship only to have it wrenched from his grasp. As she did so, Jami glared into his eyes, noting their blueness had taken on the foreboding grayness of the ocean, but she wasn’t about to let herself be pushed around.
“I’m capable of carrying my own luggage, and I don’t appreciate being shoved around,” she said. “I can also figure out for myself when it’s time to get out of the rain.” The moment she said it, she knew how ridiculous she sounded, but it was too late. Cole Cadman made her crazy, and not in a good way.
“From the looks of it, no one would ever know.”
Jami’s blond hair was plastered to her head by the downpour, its short wisps trickling water over her forehead and onto her lashes and cheeks and nose. Blinking, she took a step back, resisting the urge to do the hands-on-hips thing, because she wanted to save a sliver of face as she juggled her purse and the canvas tote. Her long, low sigh was followed by a frustrated, “Would you just give me my case, please?”
“For heaven’s sake, Jami, will you cut the crap and get inside? I’m more than willing to carry your luggage out of the rain, but I don’t have the time or the inclination to stand out here and argue the point.”
Sparks of a simmering anger flashed in his eyes as he stared down at her, but she was beyond the point of heeding the warning and, again, tugged at the suitcase. “Let go,” she snapped. “I simply asked to carry my own case, so why make a major production out it? I’m really not trying to be obstinate.”
Their eyes locked, and as the seconds kicked by, Jami refused to wilt under the weight of his disdain. She held his gaze, determined to outlast him in this undeclared stare-down.
“Okay, suit yourself,” he said with a grunt, abruptly releasing his grip on the handle. As he did so, it slipped from Jami’s wet fingers, the hefty case falling and narrowly missing her feet. Finally, she wrapped her fingers tight around the handle and tugged it along behind her, fuming as she followed the sniggering Cole toward the nearest door. The remnants of her anger soon dissolved into giggles when Cole stumbled over a loose strap from an air tank and almost landed in a trough, which appeared to be soaking crusty cannonballs brought up from the seabed.
Following a moment of flailing arms and legs, he managed to right himself before any damage was done and proclaimed irritably, “Well, come on, then. What are you waiting for now?”
“Just waiting on you,” she said, making no attempt at all to conceal her amusement, knowing full well it would vex him all the more.
And it would serve him right.
They hadn’t gone far when a thickset man with silver hair and a concerned expression intercepted them, and Jami was introduced to Jack Howard, the Zuytwyck project manager. Then he quickly turned his attention to Cole. “We need to talk in my office.”
“Has Josh been located?
“Yes, and it’s not good news.”
Once inside the sanctity of her small cabin after meeting some of the team, followed by the brief luxury of a steaming three-minute shower, Jami sprawled herself across the full length of the bunk, trying to will the day’s exhaustion from her limbs. Her mind immediately drifted to Cole and his expression when he’d learned the bad news about the missing person, Joshua Meadows. The memory made it almost impossible to relax. It sounded to Jami like the guy might be dead—possibly gone overboard.
Initially she’d had no idea about the relationship between Joshua and Cole until she’d shared a nightcap with a few of the team before retiring. Only then did it become evident why Cole was more than just a little distressed by the news—as was everyone else aboard the Seaclaim.
Apparently, young Josh had been a family friend of Cole’s. Cole had taken the young man under his wing, and they’d been working closely together for months. Right now, details about what had actually happened to Joshua were scant. Lots of conjecture. No formal announcement had been made.
A deep yawn escaped Jami’s lips, and she rolled over. At least now she understood Cole’s eagerness to return to the Seaclaim and why the news had upset him so much. She closed her eyes, confident she’d be filled in on the details tomorrow.
And if the Joshua Meadows mystery wasn’t enough for everyone to be dealing with, the fact that she was a female Jami had indeed caused a stir, as Cole had predicted. But it wasn’t for the reason she’d anticipated—her ability to do the job. Rather, the fuss centered around an urgent need to alter the sleeping arrangements.
When the logistics of accommodations had originally been planned, it was decided that the volunteer to the archaeological dive would bunk with Sam Richardson, one of the junior divers. They hadn’t figured on that volunteer being a female. So, one of the other male divers agreed to vacate his cabin and share with Sam, allowing for a quick reshuffle of living arrangements so Jami could have her own cabin at the far end of the sleeping quarters, close to the four other women on board.
Jami certainly hadn’t expected to be offered private quarters and wouldn’t have objected to sharing. Still, it was nice to have her own solitary retreat, despite the fact she couldn’t swing the proverbial cat within its confines.
Too tired for much more than quick introductions and a cup of coffee with the salvage team, Jami had excused herself as soon as the new sleeping arrangements were confirmed and headed straight for the women’s bathroom for that long overdue shower. Long-haul flights and an overnight bus trip had certainly done nothing to contribute to her freshness.
The moments of lathered luxury were over all too soon. A promptly displayed sign on the wall in bold black lettering against a red background reminded her of the need to conserve water and the fact that the shower would automatically turn itself off after three minutes. She managed to rinse and step out of the shower just under the time limit.
Hair still damp, Jami had crawled beneath the covers of the narrow bunk. Normally, she would be ravenously hungry, but not tonight. Exhaustion rendered her beyond hunger or caring how her hair might look in the morning.
Jami acknowledged she should have called her father—and her brother, for that matter—and yet she’d consciously procrastinated, knowing she simply wasn’t up to dealing with the situation. Jet lag and the mix of emotions twisting her gut whenever she thought about it would more than likely render her incapable of rational conversation with either of them. Best to leave the call for a time when she had a better grip on things.
The rocking of the ship as it rose and fell in the squall was far more noticeable with her eyes closed, but it was not the alarming motion she’d imagined it might be. Jami, in fact, found it comforting and not even thoughts of the obnoxious Cole Cadman could keep sleep at bay. Within seconds, she was drifting gently on blue-green swirls the color of the ocean on a clear day as she was swept headlong into a welcome oblivion.
CHAPTER FIVE
Having risen bright and early, Jami was eager to start the day’s activities, hopeful she would be permitted to make her first dive before nightfall. In anticipation, she’d worn her purple one-piece bathing suit beneath blue shorts and a white t-shirt.
Checking the time, she decided it was too early to place a call to her father. He’d still be at work, and she knew her old-school dad still frowned upon personal calls during business hours. Hoping she’d find a few private moments closer to lunchtime, Jami headed out the door.
When she arrived on deck, the weather could only be described as perfect—not a cloud to be seen in any direction. The sun was just beginning to climb up the eastern sky, spearing a shimmering lance of gold across the ocean. There was a multitude of vibrant blues, greens, and aquas surrounding the ship, making it hard to recall the gray bleakness of yesterday afternoon.
It appeared she was the first person up, although she assumed that somewhere, someone had to be on watch. Moving to the western bulwark, Jami surveyed the rise and fall of the Indian Ocean waves, hoping to spot evidence of the reef she knew to be out there. The Seaclaim was moored adjacent to the site where the Zuytwyck’s hull lay—and only a short distance from the reef responsible for the ship’s destruction. The salvage vessel was held firmly to the inner side of the reef by two thick cables attached to heavy anchors both fore and aft.
Try as she might, Jami’s untrained eyes found nothing to give the reef’s position away. The Zuytwyck had apparently hit the western arm of the uncharted rocks in heavy seas, and within a few hours of striking the reef, she had been battered across it by the sheer force of the waves. She sank in the calmer waters of the eastern side and now lay at a depth of almost one hundred feet.
Unable to identify any specific area of calm water—the whole expanse appeared fairly tranquil—Jami concluded it must be high tide, the telltale signs of peril being totally concealed by the extra depth. There was, however, a small buoy bobbing up and down about two hundred yards out, likely a marker as to where the Zuytwyck lay.
Off in the distance to the north were two small islands that had not been visible yesterday through the gloom. At first, Jami thought they might be the southern extension of the Montebello group of coral islands, but then realized she was much too far south to see them. The Montebellos, she calculated, were at least two hundred miles to the north, and somewhere in between was the fauna reserve of Barrow Island. These jewels in the distance were obviously a different group of islands, and the wanderer in her longed to explore them.
Squinting, she could just make out a strip of golden sand beneath a canopy of thick, green vegetation on the nearest island. Imagining it to be a tropical paradise, she hoped there would be an opportunity to visit. It looked like the perfect place to relax and recuperate after a strenuous week’s work. Of course, on the downside, she also knew the islands were likely surrounded by a similar reef system that had led to the Zuytwyck’s sinking.
Off the southeastern side of the Seaclaim, Cole’s cabin cruiser rocked gently with the rhythmic swell of the ocean. Jami assumed he had spent the night on board and was probably still asleep; there was no sign of movement on deck.
Thoughts of Cole made her stomach churn. He’d said she was grating. Had she been overly dramatic? She recalled having a prickly reaction to practically everything he said, like she had no control over her mouth. Or feelings, for that matter. What had invoked such irrational behavior from her? Was it because she was stressed over her parents, or because Cole seemed to want to treat her differently? It wasn’t as though she’d never dealt with similar situations in the past. There were guys like that all over the world, especially in the Middle East. She’d always been skilled in making her point while keeping the conversation on an even keel, never losing her composure, certainly not her self-control.
So, what was so different about Cole?
Clearly, he was rattled by the fact a staff member was missing, which may have contributed to him coming across as snippy and dismissive, but her intention had never been to antagonize him. Maybe that was his nature, but for some reason, she doubted that was true. She imagined him to be a fun, laid-back person most of the time and her recent experiences with him were not the norm. At least, she hoped so. The antagonism was far too draining to deal with on a regular basis.
But there was that trust issue. That had really irked her, but should it? Had she been unreasonable in expecting him to confide in her about the wreck’s location? Quite probably. Who in their right mind would reveal the location of something so historically important to a complete stranger? If the situation were reversed, there was no way she would have told him, especially if he had been the one to bring up the subject and was as persistent as she had been with her questions. Jami cringed at the thought, her shoulders straightening to steel herself against the uncomfortable memories. Maybe she owed Cole Cadman an apology. The thought made her chew on her lower lip.
