“Please tell me the device is housed in a museum somewhere,” LT had said while squatting beside the deep, sandy grave of the once-acclaimed sea captain. LT, otherwise known as Leo “The Lion” Anderson, was their former lieutenant. He’d been the one to convince them to join him in the hunt for the grand galleon after they bugged out of the Navy.
Alex had shaken her head. “I don’t know. I need to check the Spanish Archives.”
The Archivo General de Indias in Seville, Spain—affectionately known as the Spanish Archives—was the somber repository of all the old documents dating back to the time of the Santa Cristina’s wreck. If the cipher device still existed, clues to it whereabouts would be found there.
“What time does your flight leave in the morning?” Romeo asked Mason now. He’d agreed to fly Alex and Mason from Wayfarer Island to Key West in his prized single-engine amphibious plane so they could book a flight to the mainland in the morning and then skip across the pond to Spain. Mia had volunteered to tag along on the overnight trip because she’d wanted to file some paperwork regarding their findings with the state. As for Doc? He’d jumped at the chance to spend the night in a place that provided him with some diverting amusements.
“We catch a puddle jumper to Miami at oh-ten-hundred,” Mason said in his thick, Boston accent that turned the word jumper into jumpah. “Our connecting flight to Madrid leaves at noon.”
“Perfect.” Romeo nodded. “That high-class attorney is supposed to land here at oh-ten-thirty, so we can all head to the airport together in the morning. We’ll drop you and Alex off and pick up our lawyer without having to make two trips.”
“Fuck The Man,” Mason muttered. Talk of their lawyer had naturally brought to mind the certified letter they’d received direct from Uncle Sam.
After Mel Fisher, the most famous treasure hunter of all time, found and excavated the mighty Atocha, he’d spent years battling lawsuits brought by the state of Florida and the federal government regarding who had the rights to the sunken loot. Thanks to Mel’s doggedness and determination, the courts had finally sided with him and determined that riches found both inside and outside state waters fell directly under the Admiralty Law. Which, without going into too much detail, basically meant finders keepers.
However, the federal government officially owned Wayfarer Island—they’d simply been leasing it to LT’s family for the last hundred and fifty years. So as soon as the Deep Six crew moved their search from the waters around the island to the island itself, the government had been quick to point out that the question of whether Admiralty Law still applied was up for debate.
If Romeo and his partners found the Santa Cristina’s mother lode on land, it was going to be a fight over who could lay claim to the wealth. And LT had decided to get out in front of the battle by hiring on an expert in the matter.
According to those in the know, no one came more highly recommended than one Camilla D’ Angelo, Esq.
“Let’s not get our boxers in a bunch just yet,” Romeo cautioned Mason. “Hopefully you and Alex will find King Philip’s cipher device and we’ll decode the journal to discover the crew of the Santa Cristina brought up the treasure only to dump it in the sea somewhere else. All this posturing by the Feds will have been for nothing then, eh?”
Whatever Mason might have said in answer was cut off by the slurred voice of the drunk. “—gotta act like a bunch of bitchessss.”
“Wow.” Alex scowled. “That guy is the human version of period cramps.”
Mia nodded. “Annoyingly painful and horribly unwelcome.”
“You think he was born that way?” Alex scrunched up her nose. “Or did he take lessons?”
“It’s usually a bit of both.” Mia shrugged.
Alex grimaced. “Proof that human evolution can go in reverse.”
“Okay.” Romeo pushed up from his chair. “I tried to let it go. But I can’t take it a second longer.” Turning toward the drunk, he didn’t attempt to keep the contemptuous edge from his voice when he said, “Look cabron, the ladies have asked you nicely to fuck off. I, on the other hand, won’t be so friendly.”
“Mind your businessss.” The asshole rolled his eyes without even cutting Romeo a glance. The dude’s ruddy cheeks matched the tip of his nose, letting Romeo know Mr. One-Too-Many was no stranger to getting cork high and bottle deep.
“Go on and keep rolling your eyes, pendejo,” he snarled. “Maybe you’ll find some brain cells back there somewhere.”
That got the drunk’s attention. He gave Romeo the once-over.
Romeo didn’t spend ninety minutes each morning running on the beach, swimming in the lagoon, and lifting weights simply because he was health conscious. He also did it so that when he ran into jackoffs like Herr Half-in-the-Bag, he had the mass to back up his mouth.
Of course, when Mason, who was built like a shorter version of John Cena, stood from the table, the drunk’s face drained of color. He proved he was smarter than he looked by stumbling out of the bar and onto the long, wooden dock that ran the length of the marina.
“May both sides of your pillow always be uncomfortably warm!” Alex called to the man’s retreating back.
Romeo watched to make sure the bastard had thoroughly adiosed himself. Once he was satisfied, he touched a finger to his forehead, saluting the table of ladies who thanked him for intervening and asked him to join them.
“Some other time,” he told them, and then blinked in astonishment at how easily those three words had slid out of his mouth.
There’d been a time, not so long ago, when he’d have jumped at the chance to while away the hours with a group of beautiful tourists. Recently, however, his whole “sexit and exit” routine had lost its allure.
Because of Mia, he admitted to himself.
His intense desire to strip her naked had left him completely uninterested in doing the Devil’s Disco with anyone else.
See? Earworm! A sexy, sensual, incessantly arousing earworm.
Who’s my friend! Just my friend, damnit!
“And on that note...” Alex stood and wrapped a hand around Mason’s bicep. “I think I’d like to skip the after-dinner drinks and head back to the hotel. I read somewhere that the tongue is the most powerful muscle in the human body.” She pushed her tortoiseshell glasses higher on the bridge of her nose and grinned at Mason. “How’s about you and me go find out whose is the strongest, huh?”
Mason frowned heavily—pretty much the guy’s go-to expression—but Romeo could tell he was biting the inside of his cheek to keep from smiling. Putting a hand at the small of Alex’s back, Mason bid Romeo and Mia a good night, and then quickly ushered his saucy little girlfriend out of the bar.