Wilde One (6 page)

“I spent a little time there after a salvage mission near Long Island. Am I right about Little Italy?”

“You’re right. I’d have to say the teacup village refers to Chinatown, so we’re supposed to find Mulberry Street and drink to Speed.”

He hopped to his feet. “Maybe it’s the name of a bar. Old Victor left us those bottle labels for a reason.”

“That’s what I thought, but I’ve been searching online and can’t find a bar in the area with Speed in the name.”

“Still, I think we’re on the right track, not like my Liberty Bell fiasco. I say we go to Mulberry Street and figure out the rest when we get there.”

“I agree.” She rose to her feet. “First I need to grab a shower.”

“I’ll take down the tent and pack the car while you do it.”

Her smile sent a quiver through him.
Damn, the woman is pretty.

“Thanks.”

“You bet. Then we go eat breakfast. I can’t hunt for a bar on an empty stomach.”

“Of course you can’t.” She scooped up the bag she’d left beside the tent and strolled away, hips swaying.

His gaze followed their gentle motion, and he swallowed. Drawing in a long breath, he turned his back. Time to get his mind out of the gutter—and take down the tent. Once that chore was finished, he ambled along the path to the river then sat on the bank, tossing sticks into the current.

He didn’t think his attraction to Ainslee was all one-sided. Every now and then he caught her looking his way with a flicker of heat in her eyes that gave him hope. Twenty-four hours ago, he hadn’t known this woman existed, but he liked her. A lot. Would he love to turn their budding friendship into a physical relationship—hell, yes. But he could be patient. If he’d learned nothing else on endless dives searching for wrecks lost for centuries, it was to take his time. Occasionally a tiny shift in the currents made all the difference. He hoped before too long Ainslee’s trust in him would build and turn into interest. In fact, he was counting on it.

“I’m ready when you are.”

His head snapped around. Slowly he stood.

Long curls hung down her back over a mint-green, silk tank top above a white skirt that stopped at mid-thigh.

“You look amazing.”

She glanced down. “Thanks. Can’t walk around the city looking like a hick.”

He let out a snort of laughter as they headed toward their campsite. “You mean like I do?”

She gave him a lingering look. “You can pull off ruggedly handsome. Me” —she tapped her chest— “not so much.”

“No, you definitely aren’t ruggedly handsome. Not by any stretch of the imagination.”

They left the campground a few minutes later, stopped for coffee and waffles, then headed into the city. By the time they reached Little Italy, the mid-morning sun was already baking the pavement.

Ainslee squeezed the SUV into a parking spot near the corner of Mulberry and Broome and turned off the engine. “I hope this heat wave ends soon—or Victor sends us to a cooler part of the country. Geez, with these temperatures, you’d think it was August instead of June.”

“I’ve been off the coast of Florida for months, but something about all the pavement makes it feel hotter here.” He stepped out of the car and fed coins into the meter. “Let’s go find that bar.”

She grinned. “At ten in the morning, it won’t be open.”

“We’ll be first in line when it does. I’m picturing all five competitors, lined up waving our bottle labels, ready to charge inside the minute the proprietor unlocks the door.” Taking her arm, he steered her around a hole in the sidewalk while scanning the establishments on either side of Mulberry Street for a likely contender.

An hour later, Griff shoved his hand through his hair and scowled. “This is exactly how I felt looking for 1775 Franklin Street when the damned address didn’t exist. We’ve been up and down every block twice. No bar has Speed in the name.”

“What about Fast Times?” She pointed to the bar in front of them. “This could be it.”

He sighed. “It’s certainly the most likely contender. They open in an hour. I guess we could get some lunch in the meantime.”

Ainslee turned. “Are you kidding? We just ate waffles.”

“That was at eight this morning, and I have a healthy appetite.”

“I’ll say. Why don’t you order a slice of pizza?” She pointed toward a café with a red-striped awning.

“Great idea.” Taking a step forward, he paused as an attractive brunette brushed by, cell pressed to her ear as she waved one hand. “Odd, she looks familiar.”

“Who?”

He nodded toward the retreating woman wearing a clinging black dress and improbably high heels. “Her. I could swear I saw that lady somewhere recently.”

Ainslee rolled her eyes. “You’re obviously drawn to pretty women. I noticed you made a beeline for the cute little blond teller at the bank and left me with the old guy sporting a funny mustache.”

“Hey, I’m not stupid, but I’m sure I didn’t see the brunette in Boston.” He shrugged. “It’ll come to me. Right now, though, I need sustenance. Let’s eat.”

“I don’t have a clue about any scavenger hunt.” The owner of Fast Times pushed the two labels across the shiny teak surface of the bar. “I don’t carry either of those brands. They’re both top end, and we cater to a younger crowd. I told the other guy the same thing.”

Ainslee stiffened. “What other guy?”

“The blond dude who came in last night. He got a little belligerent, and I had my bartender toss his ass out of here.” The man’s dark eyes studied Griff. “Hopefully I won’t have to do the same to you.”

Griff lifted both hands. “I don’t want any trouble. I just want to find the right bar.”

Ainslee laid out the clue. “It says drink to Speed, and Speed is capitalized, the way you would a name. Fast Times seemed to fit.”

The bar owner shrugged one shoulder and pushed gray-streaked hair behind his ear. “I can’t help you. None of the bars in the neighborhood has Speed in the name.”

“Maybe it’s someone’s nickname.” Griff tapped the card. “Does any owner, bartender or longtime customer maybe, go by Speed?”

“Not that I’ve heard of, and I’ve been here since I was a kid. My father owned this place before me.”

Ainslee picked up the clue and the labels. “Thanks for your help. We appreciate it.” Grabbing Griff’s arm, she tugged him toward the door.

“Can I expect anyone else to come in here on this wild goose chase?”

She glanced back at the older man. “Possibly two more people, but maybe they’re both smarter than we are.”

His chuckle followed them across the room. “Good luck.”

When the door shut behind them, Griff planted his feet. “What’s the rush? You have someplace to be I don’t know about?”

“You gave me an idea.”

“Oh?” He took her arm as a group of teenage boys in sagging jeans strolled by. “I like the sound of that.”

She headed up the block toward the parked SUV. “Do you suppose Speed was one of Victor’s five army buddies? Maybe these locations aren’t completely random. Possibly they have a connection to his old comrades, or even to us.”

Griff shot her a sharp glance as he stopped beside the passenger door. “Us?”

“The descendants.” She clicked the remote to unlock the doors then slipped into the baking hot interior. Turning the key in the ignition, she lowered all the windows.

He gingerly sat on the hot seat. “You’ve been living in New York. This could be your stop. I don’t suppose they called your great-grandfather Speed?”

“I don’t have a clue, but my grandmother would.”

His smile grew. “Well, by all means, call your grandma.”

Pulling her cell from her purse, she pushed a button then scowled when her grandmother’s chirpy recorded voice answered. Ainslee left a message.

“Not home?”

She shook her head. “What about you? Is there anyone you can call for information?”

“My grandfather.” He reached into his pocket to retrieve his phone and scrolled through his contacts. “Hopefully I’ll catch him
resting his eyes
before lunch. That’s his term for napping. Grandpa doesn’t believe in newfangled inventions like cell phones, computers or answering machines. Of course my dad—” He straightened in the seat and grinned. “Grandpa, how are you? It’s Griff. Did you get my last letter?”

Ainslee let out a relieved breath then crossed her fingers as Griff talked. Then listened. Apparently his grandfather had plenty to say. She shifted on the baking hot upholstery and adjusted her skirt.

“So, your father wrote about his buddies in his letters home, and you still have them?” Griff nodded a few times. “Maybe Dad could fax them to me or…” He glanced at her with raised brows.

She pointed toward an Internet café a half a block away. “I have a laptop. If he can scan the letters then e-mail them, we could do our research in comfort.”

“Good idea.” His attention returned to his phone conversation. “Grandpa, can you find the letters that mention your father’s old army pals? No, I don’t know which friends. Hopefully he only wrote about a few. If it takes a while, that’s okay. Give them to Dad then have him call me.” He listened for another minute. “Yes, I’ll write you another letter soon. And I’ll visit this summer. I promise. Thanks, Grandpa.”

“That’s sweet.”

He pocketed the phone and glanced over. “What’s sweet?”

“You write letters to your grandfather.”

“Grandpa has certain expectations, and my brothers and I live up to them—or else.”

“Or else what?”

“I don’t know. None of us have ever been brave enough to find out.”

A snorted laugh escaped as she imagined big, strong Griff, quaking in fear. “That’s hilarious. Let’s grab my laptop and go hang out in the café. It beats the heck out of this sweltering car.”

“Works for me.”

After rolling up the windows and feeding the parking meter again, they headed up the street. Her phone rang as they entered the cool confines of the café. She pulled her cell out of her purse and smiled at the display before answering. “Hi, Grandma.”

“Hi, honey. I was at my crochet club meeting when you called. You know I go every Tuesday morning, or I’d miss out on all the good gossip. What was that stuff you mentioned about my father?”

Ainslee slid onto a chair across the table from Griff and set down the laptop. “Did people ever call your father Speed, maybe when he was younger or while he was in the army?”

“I don’t think so. My mom never mentioned it if they did. Everyone called him Frank. Why would you ask a question like that?”

“Long story. One of his old army pals sent me a letter when he was dying. This man reached out to the descendants of all his war buddies.”

“Good heavens. Seems like a strange thing to do. Which one?”

“Victor Talbot.”

“I recognize the name. My mom used to tell me stories about my dad’s service during the war, but you already know that. He did write to her about his friends. Victor was one of them.”

Ainslee stared across the table at Griff and gave him a thumbs-up. “Oh, yeah? Do you still have the letters?”

“I’m afraid not. They disappeared when I moved out of the old house into the condo. Probably ended up in the trash by mistake.” Her grandmother paused. “You know, I think they called one of the others Speed. That name definitely rings a bell.”

“Which one? Do you remember his real name?”

“No, I don’t. Goodness, Ainslee, she told me those stories over sixty years ago. You should thank your lucky stars I still remember my own name.”

Ainslee grinned. “Who’re you kidding? You’re as sharp as your knitting needles.”

“Crochet hook. I don’t knit.”

“Right. Thanks, Grandma. I’ll be home sometime this summer to see you.”

“I’m looking forward to it. Love you, honey.”

“Love you, too. Bye.” She clicked her phone off.

“Based on your end of the conversation, it sounds like your grandma is quite a character.”

“She’s funny and adorable.”

“A lot like you.” Griff jerked his gaze away from hers and glanced around at the other patrons tapping away at keyboards. “How can they call a place a café if they don’t serve food?”

“Good God, you and your stomach. It’s an obsession.” She rolled her eyes. “They have a coffee bar.”

“That won’t fill me up. What did your grandma have to say about Speed?”

“She thinks one of Frank’s old pals used it as a nickname, but she doesn’t remember which one. Hopefully the letters your grandpa has will clear up the mystery.”

“Uh, this place charges by the hour. If we can’t eat, do we really want to—” His phone rang, and he fished it out of his pocket. “Sweet! It’s my dad.” Griff clicked connect and tipped back in his chair. “That was fast.”

Ainslee unzipped the laptop case then turned on her computer while he sat quietly for a few moments, tapping one finger on the table.

“Sounds good. I’ll expect the e-mail shortly. Thanks, Dad.” The chair legs hit the floor as he leaned forward. “Yeah, I’ll explain everything later. Right now I’m kind of in a rush to get the info. Okay. Talk to you soon.” He stuffed his cell back in his pocket and smiled.

“Good news?”

“Grandpa called Dad as soon as I hung up, and between them, it didn’t take long to find the references. Three letters mention Hartley’s army buddies. Dad’s hoofing it back from the cabin to the main house to scan and e-mail them to me now.”

“Awesome. Why don’t you go get a muffin or something while we wait? Oh, I guess we should pay the guy behind the counter for an hour of Internet time. He’s been scowling at us for the last ten minutes.”

Griff jumped up. “I’m on it.”

After checking her own e-mails and responding to the most pressing ones while Griff ate, she pushed the laptop across the table. “Go ahead and pull up your mail.”

He dusted muffin crumbs off his fingers then typed. “Yep, it’s here. Dad is Mr. Efficiency, but then we all are.” He glanced up and smiled. “Efficient and a little nutty. Makes for an interesting combo.”

“I bet. Why don’t you download the attachments to a file so we won’t need Internet to access them? Just in case it takes us a while to figure this out.”

“Good idea. Our hour will be up shortly.” Eyes intent on the screen, he tapped a few more keys. “Done. Let’s see what we have.”