Tuck's Treasure (7 page)

Of course the first thing they needed to do was find the treasure. If there even was one. For many years, he’d listened to Tuck tell the story of how he’d found the treasure. He’d never offered to show proof, or been able to produce it when people had challenged him over it.

Tuck’s standard answer had been, “It’s mine, I know where it is, and I know what I’m going to do with it.”

Dylan figured that his friend really did know what he was going to do with it. He was going to leave it buried on this island for his nice, and his loyal employee, to dig up after his death.

Dylan wasn’t really sure how he felt about that. In his mind, Tuck should have used the treasure for himself. He was pretty sure that’s what he would have done if he’d been the one to find it.

Of course he wasn’t nearly as generous as Tuck. He has always been the model of generosity, always willing to help someone, whether they be stranger or friend. Unless that someone was Max Ives. The two of them had always fought, and Dylan had never really discovered why. He wished Tuck would appear to him in another dream and let him know what had happened. That would answer a lot of questions as far as he was concerned.

But he was pretty sure that wasn’t going to happen.

“Are you going to stand there all day?” He looked up to find Charlene studying him, excitement gleaming in her eyes. “Let’s get to digging and find ourselves some treasure.”

“Yes, ma’am.” He moved toward the center part of the island, where the largest tree stood. There was no X to mark the spot, but even if there had been years of wind would have erased anything from the soil.

They were both walking around the tree, looking down and examining the sand and the tree itself, trying to figure out where to start. On his third trip around Dylan stopped and knelt down. At the bottom, maybe six inches from the sand, were the initials C.T.

“Charlene!” He motioned her over and pointed. “Look.”

“C.T.,” she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

“Charlene Tucker.” He gave her a broad smile. She returned it, then laughed.

“Well, don’t just sit there, Dylan. Start digging.”

“If you insist.” He took up the shovel and placed it in the soft dirt, wondering exactly what they would find, and praying they would get to it before Ives’ men showed up. And he had no doubt that they would.

He didn’t start digging immediately. Instead he looked at her and gave her a sheepish grin.

“What if we don’t find anything?”

“We will,” she said, her voice sounding melancholy.

“You don’t sound like you believe we will.”

“I think there’s something under the sand,” she said. “But standing here, waiting for it to be dug up, reminds me that I never knew the man who carved my initials into that tree.”

She took a deep sigh and for a minute he thought she would cry. “He thought enough of me to do this, and I never saw him, not once, in the last fifteen years. I’d send him Christmas cards, and a card on his birthday. But other than that…it makes me very sad.”

“I have the cards,” he said, staring at her as she stared down at the sand. “Do you want them?”

“No, you keep them. What I want is to see what’s under this sand, so I’ll say it again. Start digging.”

“Got it.” He put his shovel into the sand and started to dig.

*
*
*

It didn’t take long to find the small tin cigar box that was buried in the sand. And when they pulled it out they were both disappointed. At first, anyway. It was wrapped in plastic and they carefully unwrapped it.

Charlene wanted to tell Dylan to hurry up, that she was too excited to wait any longer to see what was inside the box. But then again there couldn’t be much. It was a small box.

That shouldn’t matter to her, though. She should just be thrilled that her uncle thought of her at all. And she was. But she also had her hopes up about finding treasure. Real treasure. Like the types shown in pirate movies.

“If there’s another map in here I vote we have a séance, contact Tuck and kick him in the butt,” Dylan said, looking up at her. “Do you agree?”

“I’m not sure,” she replied. “Let’s just see what’s inside the box, first.”

He’d just started to peel away the layers of plastic when the distant, but unmistakable, sounds of a motor reached their ears.

“Shit,” Dylan said, standing up. “It’s Ives. Or his goons. Scram back to the boat.” He pushed the box in her hand. “Hide this somewhere on board.”

Charlene didn’t argue. She made sure the plastic was secured then took off at a run. It wasn’t a long swim to where the boat was moored, and with any luck they’d spend a lot of time on the other side of the island, looking around. She hit the water at a run, taking care not to drop the box as she swam. She’d just pulled herself up and dropped the box on deck when the boat rounded the island. She looked back to see that Dylan was in the water now, swimming toward the boat quickly.

She picked up the box and headed below deck just as Ives’ boat pulled up alongside them.

“Hey,” someone yelled at her. “Don’t run away. We just want to talk.”

“Like hell,” she muttered as she hurried to the galley, wondering where a good place to hide the box would be. An idea came to her and she smiled, remembering a not so good memory.

Once, about five years ago, her apartment had been broken into. The thieves had searched every room in the house, but the one place they hadn’t touched was the freezer. She hurried to the unit and pulled it open. There was quite a bit food inside. Apparently Dylan had wanted to make sure they were well stocked for their trip.

She moved the boxes and bags around as sounds of someone coming aboard reached her ears. Would it be Dylan, or would it be Ives’ men? She took the box out of the plastic and set it at the bottom of the freezer, then stacked the food around it.

There were raised voices upstairs and she was sure that they couldn’t hear her as she finished her task, then shut the door. She went into the master berth, hoping that if someone came downstairs it would throw them off guard.

When no one came down she went to the stairs and headed up. Dylan stood at the edge, exchanging heated words with a man she’d never seen before. There were two others standing behind the man.

They were threatening to come above the ship and search, and in a flash, Dylan took out a cell phone and she watched as he snapped a picture, then hit a few buttons.

“What the hell?” The man stared at Dylan, who just smiled.

“Insurance,” Dylan said. “I just sent your picture to a friend of mine. That way if something happens they know you were out here, with us. It will give the cops something to go on.”

Charlene was pretty sure he was bluffing, but she didn’t want to find out for certain. Not until the threat was gone. She could see by the look on the intruder’s face that he thought the same thing, but he wasn’t really sure, either.

She was thrilled when the man took a step back and held up his hands.

“Fine, go right ahead. She didn’t have anything on her when she came out anyway, and you haven’t had time to uncover anything really big. I’ll just tell Mr. Ives it was a wild goose chase.”

“You do that,” Charlene said, coming to stand next to Dylan. “And while you’re at it, tell him he can kiss my ass, too.”

Dylan’s attempt at hiding a laugh made her smile. She put her hand on his arm and leaned over to kiss him.

“You promised me an early morning swim. Am I going to get it?”

“Of course you are, darling.” He kissed her back. “And I’m thinking right now’s the perfect time for it, don’t you?”

She nodded, then laughed as the men turned back to their controls and motored a little way off. A few minutes later two of them splashed into the water and headed toward the island.

“Let them search,” Dylan said. “We already have what Tuck left, and I’m pretty sure it leads to where the real treasure is buried.”

“Me too,” she said. “Shall we leave, or stay?”

“Let’s stay, just so we can see them all pissed off when they don’t find anything.”

“It sounds like a perfect plan,” she replied. “Absolutely perfect.”

Watching the one watcher watch them was comical. The man stood at the edge of the boat, his eyes fixed on Dylan, who lay back a chair, grinning. Drifting back from the island you could hear the grunts and groans of his friends as they searched.

“Do you guys need to borrow a shovel?” Dylan yelled at the watcher. “I have one, if you need it.”

Charlene hid her face in her hands and laughed. He really was incorrigible. “Don’t make them angry,” she whispered to him. “

“At least we have pictures of them if something happens,” Charlene said, coming to sit next to them. “Did you tell the person you sent them to that they should take them to the cops?”

“Sent them to? Sweetie, do you see a cell tower out here? Check your phone, because I’m pretty sure it will say the same thing as mine. No service.”

“What?” She pulled out her phone and checked the display. Sure enough the words ‘No Service’ blinked back at her. “You bluffed?”

“It worked, didn’t it? I really think they would have come aboard if they hadn’t thought we’d sent something to the authorities. With any luck they’re nervous enough to think the Coast Guard could show up at any time.

“Shouldn’t we go? Now?” She’d been fine when she thought they’d had insurance, in the form of a photo that would help catch the crooks of something happened to them. But now that she knew there was nothing, her nerves shot back up.

When that happened she wondered why she’d felt safe when she’d thought there was a photo out there. It wasn’t as if it would keep them from shooting them if they wanted to.

“Let’s go. Now. If we have to come back we can.”

“Give it a minute. These guys are morons or they would have realized it. Let’s let the two of them get totally distracted then we’ll take off. Plus, I’m enjoying the fact that they’re digging while we’re watching. And they didn’t even take a shovel with them.”

She laughed along with him, but then leaned toward him. “That’s all well and good, but what happens when the box tells us we need to dig somewhere else on the island and they’re still there? Do you think it might? And, just for the record, I didn’t know there wasn’t service out here. Does that make me a moron?”

“Not at all. You don’t live around here, and they do. And the box might tell us to go somewhere else.” He shrugged, but she could see the concern that idea brought to him. “But truthfully I don’t think it’s on this island. I think it’s somewhere back on the mainland. I’m just enjoying myself watching these guys waste their time.”

Charlene wanted to stand up and scream that they should go open the box and find out. But she knew it wasn’t a good idea. That didn’t stop the need, though, and she grasped Dylan’s hand and gave it a gentle squeeze, hoping to convey the message that she wanted to go. That she wanted to get someplace where they could open the box and see what was inside.

Instead it seemed to convey a different message to him. He leaned over and kissed her, his lips more insistent than they’d been the last time.

“Stop that,” she whispered, but not pushing him away. This wasn’t supposed to be happening. Find treasure, split it with Dylan; that was the plan. “No kissing. And no more swats, either.”

“Says you,” Dylan said, wiggling his eyebrows at her. “You like both of them. Admit it.”

“No, I don’t. I do not enjoy being spanked.”

“You will.” He stood abruptly and turned to her. “Once I give you a proper spanking you’ll enjoy it. Trust me.”

He walked off before she could answer, going to the wheel and turning on the engine. He waved to their new friend and left the area slowly, not creating a wake or disturbing the other boat.

As they pulled way Charlene could hear their watcher scream at his friends to hurry up. She laughed. She was happy they had what they’d come for, and left with it before Ives’ goons had arrived.

But Dylan’s statements about a “proper spanking,” weren’t something she’d expected to hear. Nobody could enjoy being spanked, could they? That’s not what spanking was about.

Or could it be? True it was used as discipline, used as a deterrent. The few times he’d smacked her bottom he’d done so because she’d done something he didn’t like. But the look he’d given her when he’d talked about “a proper spanking,” said he wasn’t thinking about that.

He was thinking about seduction, about skin-to-skin contact, in more ways than his hand coming down on her bottom.

Tingles ran through her as he kicked the boat into gear and it began to ride the waves, taking them back to Florida.

“When should be get back?” She raised her voice to be heard over the crashing of the waves against the boat.

“Before noon,” he said with a wink. “Unless you want to stop out here. Not a bad idea, really, but I’d like to get back to where there’s people. The goons may not be so stupid as to believe the cell phone trick the next time.”

Charlene nodded, and then she frowned. “Noon? It took us much longer than that yesterday.”