The Reef (29 page)

It glittered and pulsed and gleamed. Fire and ice and the regal shine of gold. The water seemed to heat around her, move around her and grow clear as glass.

The ruby was a spreading of blood, surrounded by the iced tears of diamonds. The gold was as polished and bright as the day it had been fashioned into those heavy links and ornate setting.

There was such clarity to it that she could read the French inscribed around the stone perfectly.

Angelique. Etienne.

The roar in her head was her own blood singing. For there was no sound at all in the sea. No hum from the pipe, no clatter from the stone and shells that rained over her tanks. The silence was so perfect, she could hear her own words echo in her head as if she'd spoken aloud.

Angelique's Curse. We've found it, and freed it, at last.

With numbed fingers, she reached down for it. It was her imagination, of course, that made her think she could feel heat radiating toward her. An invitation, or a warning. When she held it in her hands, it was only fantasy that
made it seem as though the necklace vibrated like something alive taking a long greedy breath.

She felt a terrible grief, and anger and fear. Almost, the wild flood of sensation made her drop it again. But there was love welling through all the rest, a fierce and desperate love that tore at her heart.

Tate closed a hand around the chain, another around the stone and absorbed the war of emotion.

She could see the cell, the thin light through the single barred window set high in the thick stone. She could smell the filth and the fear, and hear the screams and pleas of the damned.

And the woman in a dingy tattered dress, her red hair dull and chopped off rudely at her neck, sat at a tiny table. She wept, and she wrote while around her thin throat, the amulet hung like a bleeding heart.

For love. The words drifted through Tate's mind. Only and always for love.

Fire swept up greedily and consumed her.

Matthew. It was her first coherent thought. Tate had no idea how long she had clutched the necklace while debris fell like rain around her.

He was working steadily, his face angled away. Here it is, she thought. What you're searching for is right here. How did you miss it? Why, she thought with a shiver, didn't you see it?

She knew she should signal to him, show him what she held. The object that had drawn them together, twice, was right there in her hands.

And what would it do to him? she wondered. What would it cost him? Before she could question her own motives, she jammed the necklace in her goody bag, drew the drawstring tight.

Struggling for calm, she looked toward the barracuda. But the fish was gone, as if it had never been. There was only murk.

 

Five hundred miles away, VanDyke rolled off his surprised lover and got out of bed. Ignoring her complaints, he swung into a silk robe and hurried from the master suite.
His mouth was dry, his heart throbbing like a wound. Stalking past a white-suited steward, he rushed up the companionway to the bridge.

“I want more speed.”

“Sir.” The captain looked up from his charts. “There's weather due east. I was about to alter our course to swing below it.”

“Hold your course, goddamn you.” In one of his rare leaps of public temper, VanDyke swept a hand over the table and sent charts scattering. “Hold your course and give me more speed. You'll have this ship to Nevis by morning or I'll see you captain nothing larger than a two-man paddleboat.”

He didn't wait for an answer, didn't need to. VanDyke's commands were always followed, his wishes always granted. But the flush of humiliation that had come across the captain's face didn't calm or appease VanDyke as it should have.

His hands were trembling, the bitter cloud of rage threatening to close over him. The signs of weakness infuriated him, frightened him. To prove his strength, he marched into the lounge, cursed at the bartender always on duty and grabbed a bottle of Chevis himself.

The amulet. He would have sworn he'd seen it flashing, felt its weight around his own neck as he'd ranged himself over the woman in his bed. And the woman in his bed had not been the increasingly tedious companion of the last two months, but Angelique herself.

Snarling at the bartender to leave, VanDyke poured the liquor, drank it down, poured again. His hands continued to tremble, to curl themselves of their own accord into fists looking for something to pummel.

It had been too real to have been a simple fantasy. It was, he was sure, a premonition.

Angelique was taunting him again, snickering at him from centuries past. But he would not be tricked, or outwitted, this time. His course was set. He accepted now that it had been set from the moment he'd been born. Destiny beckoned so that he could nearly taste it along with liquor. And it was sweet and strong. He would soon
have the amulet, its power. With it he would have his legacy, and his revenge.

 

“Tate seems preoccupied,” LaRue commented, tugging up the zipper of his wet suit.

“We put in a long shift.” Matthew hauled tanks over to the tender. Buck would be taking them on island to be refilled. “I guess she's tired.”

“And you,
mon ami?
”

“I'm fine. You and Ray want to work on that southeast trench.”

“As you say.” Taking his time, LaRue hooked on his tanks. “I noticed she did not linger on deck after you surfaced, as is her habit. She went inside quickly.”

“So what? You writing a book?”

“I am a student of human nature, young Matthew. It is my opinion that the lovely mademoiselle has something to hide, something that worries her mind.”

“Worry about your own mind,” Matthew suggested.

“Ah, but the study of others is so much more interesting.” He smiled at Matthew as he sat to put on his flippers. “What one does, or doesn't do. What that one thinks or plans. You understand?”

“I understand you're wasting your air.” He nodded toward the
New Adventure.
“Ray's waiting on you.”

“My diving partner. This is a relationship that must have full trust, eh? And you know, young Matthew . . .” LaRue pulled on his mask. “You can rely on me.”

“Right.”

LaRue saluted, then went into the water. Something told him he would need to make another phone call very soon.

 

She didn't know what to do. Tate sat on the edge of her bunk staring at the amulet in her hands. It was wrong for her to keep the discovery to herself. She knew it, and yet . . .

If Matthew knew she had it, nothing would stop him from taking it. He'd alert VanDyke that he had it in his possession. He'd demand a showdown.

She knew without doubt that only one of them would walk away from it.

All this time. Slowly, she ran her fingers over the carved names. She hadn't really believed they would find it. What she hadn't realized was that, against all logic, all scientific curiosity, she had hoped they wouldn't find it.

Now it was real, in her hands. She had a foolish urge to open her window and heave it back into the sea.

She didn't have to be an expert on gems to know that the center ruby alone was priceless. It was certainly easy enough to judge the gram weight of the gold and figure that worth in current market value. Add the diamonds, the antiquity, the legend, and what did she have? Four million dollars in her hands? Five?

Enough, certainly, to satisfy any greed, any lust, any vengeance.

Such a stunning piece of work, she mused. Surprisingly simple despite the flash and fire. A woman would wear it and draw eyes and admiration. Displayed, it would be the centerpiece of any museum. Around it she could build the most impressive, the most spectacular collection of marine salvage in the world.

Her professional dreams would be realized beyond any of her wildest imaginings. Her reputation would soar. Any and all funding she desired for an expedition would flow to her like river to sea.

All of this and more would come. She had only to hide the amulet, to go to Nevis and make a single phone call. Within hours she and her prize could be on their way to New York or Washington to stun the world of ocean exploration.

She jerked back, letting the necklace spill onto the bed. Shocked, she stared at it.

What had she been thinking? How could she have even considered such actions? When had fame and fortune become more important to her than loyalty, than honesty? Than even love.

With a shiver, she pressed her hands to her face. Maybe the damn thing was cursed if having it for so short a time skewed her integrity.

She turned her back on it, walked to the window and, opening it, took deep gulps of sea air.

The truth was, she would give up the amulet, the museum, everything, if it would turn Matthew away from this course of self-destruction. She would hand it over to VanDyke personally if the betrayal would save the man she loved.

Perhaps it would. Turning, she studied the amulet again, spread like stars over the serviceable spread of her bunk. Driven by instinct, she scooped it up, pushed it under the neatly folded clothes in her middle drawer.

She needed to act quickly. Through the doorway leading to the bridge, she spied out at the
Mermaid.
She could see her mother hammering conglomerate to the rhythm of some top-forty station on the portable radio. Buck was on his way to St. Kitts, she knew, and her father and LaRue were at the wreck.

That left only Matthew, and of him she saw no sign. There was no better time, she decided, and no better way.

Heart pounding, she slipped up the stairs to the bridge. She hoped the operator on Nevis could help her contact Trident Industries. Failing that, she would work to track down Hayden. Surely between them, they could find a way to get through to VanDyke.

She made the ship-to-shore call, wishing she'd thought quickly enough to hitch a ride with Buck to the island. It would certainly have simplified the contact.

After twenty frustrating minutes, and countless transfers, she was able to reach Trident, Miami. For all the good it did, Tate thought when she disconnected. No one there would even acknowledge that Silas VanDyke was associated with them. All she could do was insist the silky voiced receptionist take her message and see that it was passed to the proper source.

Remembering the man she had faced years before, she had no doubt it would be. But there was little time.

That left Hayden, she decided, and hoped that he was off the
Nomad
and back in North Carolina. Again, she made the ship-to-shore, waited while the call was transferred north and over the Atlantic.

For all her trouble, her call was taken by Hayden's answering service.

“I need to get a message to Dr. Deel. It's urgent.”

“Dr. Deel is in the Pacific.”

“I'm aware of that. This is Tate Beaumont, his associate. It's imperative that I reach him as soon as possible.”

“Dr. Deel checks in for his messages periodically. I'll be glad to relay your message to him when he contacts me.”

“Tell him Tate Beaumont needs to speak with him urgently. Urgently,” she repeated. “I'm at sea in the West Indies aboard the
New Adventure.
HTR-56390. He can contact the operator on Nevis for the transfer. Have you got that?”

Precisely, the service repeated the location and the call numbers.

“Yes. Tell Dr. Deel that I must speak to him, that I urgently need his help. Tell him I've found something of vital importance, and I need to contact Silas VanDyke. If I haven't heard from Dr. Deel in a week, no, three days,” she decided, “I'll make arrangements to join the
Nomad.
Tell him I need his help badly.”

“I'll see that he gets your message the moment he calls in, Ms. Beaumont. I'm sorry I can't tell you how long that might be.”

“Thank you.” She could back up the message with a letter, Tate thought. God knew how long it would take to reach the
Nomad,
but it was worth a try.

She spun around, then stopped dead when she saw Matthew blocking the doorway.

“I thought we had a deal, Red.”

D
OZENS OF EVASIONS
and excuses ran through her head. Plausible evasions, reasonable excuses.

She was sure the man who faced her now would swat them aside like pitiful gnats. Still, by the way he leaned negligently against the jamb, she thought there was a small chance.

“I want to check some data with Hayden.”

“Is that so? How many times have you felt the need to check some data with Hayden since we found the
Isabella
?”

“This is the first—” She yelped and instinctively stumbled back when he straightened. It wasn't the move, which had been slow and controlled. It had been the vicious temper that had leapt into his eyes. In all the time she'd known him, she'd never seen it fully unleashed.

“Goddamn you, Tate, don't lie to me.”

“I'm not.” She pressed back against the wall, for the first time in her life fully physically terrified. He could hurt her, she realized. Something in his eyes warned her that he'd like to. “Matthew, don't.”

“Don't what? Don't tell you you're a lying, double-crossing bitch?” Because he did want to hurt her, was afraid he would if he let that last link of control snap, he
slapped his hands on the wall at either side of her head to cage her in. “When did he get to you?”

“I don't know what you mean.” She swallowed on a dry throat. “I just needed to ask Hayden . . .” Her excuse ended on a whimper when he closed a hand over her jaw and squeezed.

“Don't lie to me,” he said, spacing each word deliberately. “I heard you. If I hadn't heard you myself, no one could have convinced me you'd turn this way. What for, Tate? The money, the prestige, a promotion? A fucking museum with your name on it?”

“No, Matthew, please.” She closed her eyes and waited for the blow when his grip vised on her flesh.

“What were you so anxious to pass on to VanDyke? Where is he, Tate? Keeping a safe distance until we play out the
Isabella?
Then with your help he'll come along and take everything we've worked for.”

Her eyes swam with useless frightened tears. “I don't know where he is. I swear it. I'm not helping him, Matthew. I'm not giving him the
Isabella.
”

“Then what? What the hell else would you have to give him?”

Staggered, she cringed back from the ripe violence in his face. “Please, don't hurt me.” Cowardice had tears of shame spilling down her cheeks. Humiliated, she fought to keep her breath from sobbing.

“You can face down a shark, but you can't face yourself.” He let his hand drop, stepped back. “You know, maybe you figure you've got a lot to pay me back for. I wouldn't argue with that. But I'd never have thought you'd betray the whole expedition just to get to me.”

“I didn't. I haven't.”

“What were you going to tell him?” She opened her mouth, shook her head. “Fine. You tell him this for me, sweetheart. If he comes within a hundred feet of my boat, of my wreck, he's a dead man. You got that?”

“Matthew, please listen.”

“No, you listen. I've got a lot of respect for Ray and Marla. I know as far as they're concerned the sun rises and sets in you. For their sake, we'll keep this between
the two of us. I'm not going to be responsible for them finding out what you really are. So you're going to come up with a real good reason why you've got to ditch this expedition. You make them believe you had to go back to the university, or back to the
Nomad,
or wherever, but you're out of here within twenty-four hours.”

“I'll go.” She dashed at tears. “If you'll just listen to me first, I'll go as soon as Buck gets back with the tender.”

“You don't have anything to say I want to hear. You can consider it a job well done, Tate.” The heat had died from both his eyes and his voice. They were viciously cold again. “You paid me all the way back.”

“I know what it's like to hate you. I can't bear knowing you'd hate me now.” She would have thrown herself at him when he turned for the door. It wasn't pride that stopped her, but fear that even begging wouldn't sway him. “I love you, Matthew.”

It stopped him, sliced at him. “That's a trick that would have worked even a couple of hours ago. Check your timing, Red.”

“I don't expect you to believe me. I just needed to say it. I don't know what's right.” She squeezed her eyes shut so that she didn't have to see his hard, unyielding face. “I thought this was. I was scared.” Fighting for courage, she opened her eyes again. “I was wrong. Before you walk away, before you send me away a second time, there's something I need to give you.”

“You don't have anything I want anymore.”

“Yes, I do.” She took a quick, shuddering breath. “I have the amulet. If you come with me to my cabin, I'll give it to you.”

He turned slowly, completely around “What kind of bullshit is this?”

“I have Angelique's Curse in my cabin.” She let out a thin, watery laugh. “It seems to be working.”

He lunged forward, grabbed her arm. “Show me.”

She didn't whimper this time, or complain though his fingers dug painfully into her flesh. Beyond tears now, she
led the way into her cabin. Once inside, she opened the drawer and took out the amulet.

“I found it this afternoon, shortly after we dug out the monogrammed plate. It was just there, all of a sudden, lying on the sand. I didn't clean it,” she murmured, rubbing a thumb over the center stone. “There was no calcification, no encrustation. It might have been lying on velvet in a display case. That's funny, isn't it? When I picked it up I thought I could feel . . . well, I don't suppose you're very interested just now in the tricks a mind can play.”

She lifted her head, held out her hands with the necklace dripping from them. “You've got what you wanted.”

He took it. Glittering, gleaming, it was as stunning as he'd ever imagined. It was warm, almost hot, he thought. But perhaps his hands were chilled. Of course that didn't explain the sudden clenching in his gut, or the odd image of leaping flames that jumped into his head.

Nerves, he told himself. A man was entitled to be nervous when he'd found the treasure of his lifetime.

“My father died for this.” He didn't hear himself say it, wasn't even conscious that he'd thought it.

“I know. I'm afraid you will, too.”

Distracted, he glanced up. Had she said something? It had sounded more like weeping than words. “You weren't going to tell me you'd found it.”

“No, I wasn't.” She would face his fury now, his hate, even his disgust. But in doing so, she would make him listen. “I don't really know what made me keep it from you when we were down, I just felt compelled to.”

On unsteady legs, she crossed to her dresser, picked up a bottle of water to slake her burning throat. “I started to signal you, then I didn't. Couldn't. I hid it in my pouch, and brought it in here. I needed to think.”

“To figure out how much VanDyke would pay you for it?”

The fresh barb dug deep. Tate set the bottle down again, turned back. Her eyes were eloquent with sorrow. “However much I've disappointed you, Matthew, you have to know better than that.”

“I know you have ambitions. Ambitions VanDyke could turn into fact.”

“Yes, I'm sure that's true. And I admit, for a few minutes sitting in here alone with that, I indulged in speculating just what having that amulet could do for me.” She wheeled away to stand at the small window. “Do I have to be flawless to be acceptable to you, Matthew? I'm not allowed to have any selfish needs.”

“You're sure as hell not allowed to double-cross your family, and your partners.”

“You really are a fool if you think I could. But you're right about one thing, I was trying desperately to contact VanDyke, to tell him I'd found it. I'd hoped I could arrange to meet him somewhere and give it to him.”

“Do you sleep with him?”

The question was so absurd, so unexpected, she nearly laughed. “I haven't laid eyes on Silas VanDyke in eight years. I haven't spoken with him much less slept with him.”

Where was the sense in this? he wondered. Where was the logic that was so intricate a part of her makeup? “But the first thing you did when you found this was to try to contact him?”

“No, the first thing I did was worry over what you would do to him if you had it.” She closed her eyes and let the light breeze that danced through the window play over her face. “Or worse, what he might do to you. And I panicked. I even thought about throwing it back into the water, pretending I'd never found it, but that wouldn't really solve the problem. Giving it to VanDyke, I thought, asking him only to give his word that he'd leave you alone in exchange for it, would solve everything.

“I didn't know I still loved you,” she said, staring hard at the shifting water. “I didn't know, and when I did, I guess I panicked there, too. I don't want to feel this way about you, and I know I'll never feel this way about anyone else.”

Grateful her eyes were dry again, she made herself turn. “I guess you could say I thought I was saving your life, doing what was best for you. That should sound familiar.
And it was as stupid for me to take the choice out of your hands as it was for you to take it out of mine.”

She lifted her hands, let them fall. “Now you have it, and you can do what you need to do. But I don't have to watch.” Sliding open the door on the closet, she took out her suitcase.

“What are you doing?”

“I'm going to pack.”

He picked up the case, tossed it across the room. “Do you think you can hit me with all of this then just walk away?”

“Yes, I do.” How odd it was, she realized, to be so utterly calm again. As if she'd punched her way through a hurricane to the thick, quiet air of the eye. “Just as I think we both need to take time to sort through the mess we've made out of things.” She started to walk past him to retrieve her case, then lifted her chin when he blocked her path. “You're not going to push me around again.”

“If I have to.” To settle the matter he turned and flicked the lock on her cabin door. “The first thing we have to settle is this.” He held up the amulet so that it caught the light and exploded with color. “We've all got a stake in it, but mine's the oldest. When I've done what I need to do, you can have it.”

“If you're still alive.”

“That's my problem.” He slipped the necklace into his pocket. “You've got an apology coming for the things I said to you on the bridge.”

“I don't want your apology.”

“You've got it anyway. I should have trusted you. Trusting people isn't one of my strong suits, but it should have been where you're concerned. I frightened you.”

“Yes, you did. I suppose I deserved it. Let's just say we're even.”

“We're not finished,” he murmured and laid a hand, gently this time, on her arm.

“No, I guess we're not.”

“Sit down.” When she looked up, her eyes were guarded. “I'm not going to hurt you. I'm sorry I did. Sit down,” he repeated. “Please.”

“I don't know what else there is to say, Matthew.” But she sat, folded her tensed hands in her lap. “I understand your reaction to what you heard and what you saw perfectly.”

“I heard you tell me you loved me.”

“Poor timing. Again. I don't want to,” she said with undertones of tired anger. “I can't seem to help it.”

He sat beside her, but didn't touch her. “Eight years ago, I did what I had to do. I did the right thing. I've screwed up enough to know when I manage to do the right thing. I wasn't going to drag you down with me. When I look at you now, what you are, what you've done with your life, I know it was right.”

“There's no point—”

“Let me finish. There're some things I didn't tell you last night. Maybe I didn't want to admit them to you. When I first started salvaging for Fricke, I thought about you all the time. I didn't do much but work, pay bills and think about you. I'd wake up in the middle of the night and miss you so much it hurt. After a while, things were so fucking bad, I didn't have the energy to hurt anymore.”

Remembering, he stared down at his hands. “I told myself it wasn't such a big deal, a couple of months out of my life with a pretty girl. I didn't much think about you anymore. Now and again it would grab me by the throat, tear right down into the gut. But I'd shake it off. I had to. Things with Buck were as bad as they could get, and I hated every minute of what I was doing to make a lousy dollar.”

“Matthew.”

He shook his head to hold her off. “Let me get it out. It's not easy stripping down this way. When I saw you again, it ripped my heart open. I wanted all those years back, and knew I couldn't have them. Even when I got you into bed there was this hole. Because all I really wanted was for you to love me back.

“I want a chance with you again. I want you to give it to me.” Now, at last, he looked at her, laid a hand on her cheek. “I might even be able to convince you that you like being in love with me.”

She managed a shaky smile. “You probably could. I'm already beginning to lean in that direction.”

“I'd start out by telling you that what I felt for you eight years ago was the biggest thing in my life. And it's not even close to what I feel for you now.”

She was near tears again, and more desperately in love than she'd thought possible. “What took you so long to tell me all of this?”

“I was pretty sure you'd laugh in my face. Christ, Tate, I wasn't good enough for you then. I'm no better for you now.”

“Not good enough,” she said quietly. “In what possible way?”

“In every possible way. You've got brains, an education, family.” Frustrated at trying to explain intangibles, he dragged his hand through his hair. “You've got—it's . . . class.”