Stolen [4] Stolen Chances

  He had to prove to her he never would.

  His mouth captured hers, and he tasted the desperation in her kiss…and the fear. The love she’d once felt for him was still there. Somehow—in some way—he had to prove to her that loving him would never cost her again.

  CHAPTER SIXTEEN

  Two days back on the dig and Maren was already feeling better. Refocusing on work brought her a sense of accomplishment she’d been lacking the last week.

  She’d been amazed at what the crew had uncovered during her absence. Not only the cargo hold, but large chunks of the captain's quarters and the galley. But it wasn’t enough.

  From the edge of the Escapade, she stared down at the sparkling water and watched Thad’s dark wet suit disappear as he followed Lisa and Rafe toward the wreck. And though she couldn’t hear them, the words she’d heard on each of her previous dives echoed through her mind.

  “He lies. All men lie…”

  Doña Marina had been a bitter, heartbroken woman when she’d damned that statue and everyone who went after it. Maren wasn’t giving any credence to Thad’s theory that she was somehow linked to the relic—or that she was immune to the curse—but she couldn’t deny anymore that she’d heard something when she’d been swimming over the wreck. And she knew the fact she didn’t want to hear those words again was part of the reason she wasn’t diving today.

  Was she bound to turn out the same way? Hard, spiteful, alone? By not opening her heart all the way to Thad like she knew they both wanted, was she setting herself up for heartache all over again?

  “They’ll be down a while. I made coffee.” Drawn out of her musings, she looked to her left, where her father stood in the warm light, his dark hair ruffled by the Caribbean breeze. “Come on. Have a cup with your old man.”

  Maren pushed aside the worry and cast him a small smile. “Okay.”

  She followed him into the salon, and while he moved toward the galley, she looked down at the sketch near his laptop. La Malinche. A weeping woman dressed in billowing robes with long hair flowing behind her, arms outstretched toward the man she loved as he walked away. She’d forgotten what an amazing artist her father was. Forgotten that she got that trait from him.

  He set the mug next to her and sank onto a stool to her right. “Thanks,” she said. “This is incredible.”

  He sipped his coffee. “I’ve done a lot of research, and while there’s no visual record of her, that’s what I imagine.”

  She sat next to him and ran her finger over the sketch, marveling at the intricacy he’d captured with just his pencil. “You’ve dedicated your whole life to this quest. To finding her. What if you never do?”

  “Oh, I’ll find her one day. Whether she’s here on Leonard’s ship or not, I know I will.”

  He was so sure of himself. She looked up, amazed that he could be so dedicated to something that might only be a myth. “Is that why you and Mom didn’t work out? Because of this?”

  “Your mother and I…” He sighed and leaned back in his chair. “Your mother and I are two very different people who want two very different things out of life.”

  She glanced back down at the drawing and remembered all the times he’d left them to go on one of his precious digs. Remembered all the times she’d wished he’d take her with him.

  “I gave it up for her once,” he said quietly. “You probably don’t remember. You were pretty young then. I even got a job at the University of Washington, teaching, of all things. But your mother knew I wasn’t happy, and in the end, I was making her unhappy as well. We tried to do the traditional-marriage thing, Maren, but…it wasn’t us. Your mother fell in love with my gypsy soul, and I fell in love with her independence. And neither of us wanted to turn the other into something they weren’t.”

  His eyes softened. “But that doesn’t mean I don’t still love her. It just means we’re both happier doing what we each love instead of making the other miserable. Sometimes love means holding on, but sometimes it means letting go and allowing it to take you wherever it will.”

  Maren looked back down at the drawing and thought of Thad. And of Doña Marina. Of heartache and loss and all the risks love brought. But she also thought of the joy. And the feeling that surrounded her every time she was in Thad’s arms. A completeness she’d never found anywhere else.

  “Your mother understands my passion, maybe better than I do.” He paused, then said, “Thad showed me what he found last night.”

  She frowned. “He’s reaching.”

  Her father shrugged. “I’m not so sure. It would explain why I’m so obsessed with the damn thing. And why you’ve never been able to walk away from it yourself.”

  She couldn’t deny he was right. She’d always known she’d go after it again, and not just because of Evan. She’d told herself it was the lure of the story and her father’s obsession that had piqued her interest as an archaeologist, but she knew now that wasn’t true. Something in her had always felt a connection to the damn statue.

  “Life goes on, but you and I both know the dead have a strong hold on what happens in the future”.

  A shiver raced down her spine when she remembered Thad’s words from last night. He’d meant them only as a means to his argument, but then—like now—they’d rattled her, because she knew Evan believed them as well. Was she destined to live out the same fate as Doña Marina? What if history really was trying to repeat itself in her?

  “Part of me doesn’t want to find it,” she whispered.

  “Why not?” her father asked in a surprised voice.

  She stared back at the drawing again and felt her heart pinch. “Because I don’t want to end up like her.”

  “Oh, Maren.” Emotion filled his voice as he leaned forward and squeezed her hand. “You won’t. You’re not her. You may share her blood, but that’s all. No matter what Declan or anyone else might think, your life is your own to live. You won’t make the same mistakes Doña Marina did.”

  Maren wished she could believe that, but something inside wasn’t so sure. Blinking back tears, she turned her hand over and squeezed his.

  “Maren.” Drummer’s voice echoed down the stairs, and they both glanced his way. “You have a phone call coming through.”

  Thoughts of Evan slammed into Maren, and her heart rate jumped. She hadn’t called him yet today. She looked to her father. Patrick’s worried eyes told her he was thinking the same. He squeezed her hand tighter.

  “Maren,” Drummer said, louder. “It’s Isabel on the line.”

  Relief whipped through Maren like a breath of fresh air. “Isabel.” Her shoulders relaxed, and she smiled at her father. “I’ll be back.”

  “Tell her I miss her.”

  Nodding, Maren jogged up the steps and moved into the pilothouse. She lifted the receiver from the table and grinned. “Hey, baby. I didn’t expect to hear from you today. How did you get this number?”

  “Mom? Mom, what’s going on?”

  Maren’s brow creased at the sound of Isabel’s nervous voice. “What do you mean, Isabel?”

  “Mom, I thought you were going to meet us here. Where are you?”

  “Slow down, Isabel.” Worry danced up Maren’s spine. “Meet you where? Where are you?”

  Muffled voices echoed in the background, and then Isabel’s voice grew dim. “I want to talk to my mom,” she exclaimed.

  Icy fingers of fear clamped around Maren’s throat. “Isabel?”

  “Darling,” Evan’s smooth voice cooed through the line. “I’ve been waiting for you to call.”

  Every muscle in Maren’s body went rigid. “Where are you? Evan, put my daughter back on the line.”

  “Relax, darling. Our precious Isabel is completely safe. She missed you and wanted to hear your voice. I did too, for that matter. But I think that was enough for her today.”

  Rage whipped through Maren, and she fought back the urge to rip the phone out of the wall. “You said a week.” She swallowed the panic and tried to keep her
voice steady. “I was going to call you today. We said today. What are you doing with Isabel?”

  “Insurance, my love. After your last visit, I had to make sure you kept to our agreement.”

  “No,” Maren groaned. Dropping her head, she steadied one arm on the counter in front of her.

  “Now, darling. It’s not that bad, I promise. Isabel and I have been having a wonderful time together. It amazes me how much like you she is, Maren. Soft and gentle, but with a fierce and determined will.”

  Terror threatened to overtake her emotions, but she fought for control. “If you hurt her or Candace, I swear—”

  “You swear what?” Evan’s voice turned icy. “You’re in no position to make demands on me, Dr. Hudson. You’ll do what I say, when I say, if you want to see your precious daughter again. It starts now. You’ve got three days to find my woman. Three days, Maren, to get me what I want. I know your crew is bringing up all kinds of amazing relics. You find her, you bring her to me, and I’ll let the child go. You don’t, and all bets are off. I’ll call you in two days to give you the rendezvous point.”

  The line went dead in Maren’s ear. Her stomach jolted as panic and fear consumed her. She dropped the phone. On legs that threatened to give out, she sank to the floor of the pilothouse just as her body began to shake.

  Oh God. He had her.

  She couldn’t think, couldn’t breathe, couldn’t comprehend anything happening around her. All she knew and felt and heard was Evan’s cold and obsessed voice melding with her daughter’s scared and frightened one.

  Strong hands gripped her arms. She finally registered a frantic voice and firm hands shaking her. When her lashes fluttered open, she looked up into her father’s wide and frightened eyes.

  “Dammit, Maren. What happened?”

  “He has her,” she whispered just as the world spun.

  “No way,” Thad said. “He’ll know it’s a forgery.”

  Maren glanced up from her seat at the scarred wooden table in Patrick’s hut and watched Thad pace the floor for the hundredth time. He hadn’t stopped since they’d gathered to discuss their options, and she was pretty sure he was going to wear a path in the dusty floorboards if he didn’t stop soon.

  “He’ll never know,” Lisa exclaimed. “No one’s ever seen the damn thing in person. We could gold-plate a bronze of Mickey Mouse and he’d never know the difference.”

  Rafe frowned down at his wife and stepped in front of Thad. “Trust me, Pete’s connections are legit, and this artist will do an incredible job.” He glared at Lisa over his shoulder. “And I promise there will be no Mickey Mouse.”

  Peter Kauffman was Rafe’s business partner at the Odyssey Galleries, and according to Rafe, the man had connections throughout the art world. When Rafe had suggested they create a forgery of La Malinche and pass that off to Declan, Maren had been the first to say it wouldn’t work, but Lisa was right. No one knew the exact weight and size of the relic. And if anyone could oversee the design of a fake, it would be her father.

  “That still doesn’t solve things.” Thad looked past Rafe toward Patrick. “I don’t care if the fake passes or not. She’s not going.”

  “I don’t want her going either,” Patrick said as he scrubbed a hand over his face. “But we’re pretty much out of options.”

  “She’s not going,” Thad said again as he glanced at Maren across the room. “You’re not. It’s out of the question.”

  This wasn’t helping. Arguing was just wasting time.

  Maren rose and walked to Thad. Reaching for his hand, she felt the tension radiating from his strong body. Saw the worry in the fine lines that had formed around his eyes and mouth. And her heart thundered inside her chest when his dark gaze locked with hers and she glimpsed the fear brewing deep inside. He wasn’t just worried about a daughter he didn’t even know. He was scared for her.

  “I’ll be okay, Thad. I’m not afraid of him.”

  He ran his hands down the length of her hair, then brushed it back from her face. “Maren, I can’t...”

  “What?”

  “I can’t protect you if you walk in there with him.” Frustration coated his words. “You can’t ask me to let you do that. Don’t you get it? I didn’t do anything to take care of you before, and I’m not going to let it happen again. I love you too much.”

  For a heartbeat, everything else faded into the background. Her heart swelled at his words, at the fact he was willing to admit how he felt in front of everyone. It was one thing for him to profess his love for her in private, but to hear him say the words now made her realize just what he meant to her. What he’d always meant to her.

  She squeezed his hand. “I don’t need you to shelter me. As long as I know you’re there, that you’re backing me up, I can do this. I can do anything as long as I’ve got you on my side.”

  His eyes slid shut. “I can’t lose you again.”

  Her heart turned over. Her world felt like it was crumbling around her, yet in the middle of the chaos, he was the one shining light, guiding her along. How could she have ever questioned what she felt for him?

  “You won’t,” she whispered.

  “So it’s decided?” Patrick asked quietly.

  Thad opened his eyes and glanced across the table. “No. If we do this, she doesn’t go alone.” He looked back down at her. “I may be stupid, but I’m not insane. You still can’t go by yourself.”

  “He’s not going to let you on his yacht with me.”

  “Not Thad.” Drummer spoke up for the first time. “Me.”

  Maren looked over her shoulder at Nate. “He’s not going to let you on his yacht either.”

  “Yes, he will,” he said calmly. “Because he expects me to bring you there.”

  “What?” Maren’s eyes widened in shock. Seeing Thad’s body flex next to her, she placed a hand on his arm to keep him steady and turned. “Explain, Nate.”

  Nate shrugged. “You asked me why I was involved, and I said it was personal. Well, it is, only more so than you think.”

  “So you lied.”

  “Not exactly. Declan did boot me off a dig several years ago. He also happened to be involved with my sister. She died under questionable circumstances. Ones that involved him.”

  “And you conveniently omitted that from the rest of us?” Thad asked.

  “Not everyone,” Nate said, glancing toward Patrick.

  Maren’s gaze jumped to her father. “You knew about this? And you said nothing?”

  “Relax, Maren. I didn’t think it would become an issue. And if it did, I figured we could use Drummer’s position to our advantage.”

  “And just what exactly would that position be?” Maren asked.

  “He trusts me,” Drummer said calmly. “I’ve spent the last five years worming my way under his skin so he thinks I’m his ally instead of his nemesis. Rachel’s death was classified as a boating accident, but I know he killed her.”

  When the rest of the group only stared at him, he said, “Rachel was an historian. Declan hired her to do some research on an Aztec artifact he was trying to find. You guessed it,” he said, nodding. “Our illustrious La Malinche. At the time, he still thought it was in the northern Yucatan, but he’d hit a wall and couldn’t find any more information on its location. Rachel not only earned his respect but his trust. And somewhere along the line, she got personally involved with him.”

  Maren crossed her arms over her chest. “He can be charming when it suits him.”

  “Yeah. I’ve noticed.” Drummer scowled. “By the time she learned who and what he was, she was in too deep. She was afraid he wouldn’t let her go. She thought if she could get something on him, she could blackmail him into leaving her alone. I didn’t know anything about her plan until it was too late. Just before she died, she told me she’d found incriminating evidence related to a death in Mexico. One he’d been involved with. One related to that statue.” He looked at Thad. “She had evidence proving he’d been with those dive
rs in that cenote the day Colin was killed.”

  Thad’s back went rigid. And his hand landed against Maren’s shoulder and squeezed.

  “Then she conveniently died,” Drummer went on. “I couldn’t do anything to prove it wasn’t an accident, but I know in my heart it wasn’t. The same way you know your brother’s death wasn’t either. He killed Rachel to shut her up, because she got in his way. And he never looked back.”

  “So you’ve been conning him,” Maren said. “You’re the third investor on this project.”

  “Yeah. I’ve been feeding him info since I got here. Patrick and I thought if we kept him in the loop, he’d be inclined to sit back and watch from the sidelines.”

  “But he wasn’t,” Thad said gruffly.

  “No. Not after his run-in with Maren last week.” He glanced at her. “I knew he was in contact with you. I just didn’t realize how deep his obsession ran. I didn’t tell Patrick about your involvement because I didn’t want to jeopardize the plan, and honestly, I didn’t know where your loyalties lay. I also didn’t know what was happening with Isabel. I’d have stepped in long ago if I’d known about her.”

  He ran a hand across his forehead. “It didn’t click with me before, but your assistant, the one you said was with Isabel. What does she look like? About five-feet-four, auburn hair, wide mouth, sharp cheekbones, long narrow face?”

  The blood drained from Maren’s cheeks. “Yes. How did you know?”

  Nate shook his head and glanced at Patrick. “Candy Hampton. She’s worked for him for years.”

  “What?” Maren glanced from Drummer to her father’s surprised expression and back again.

  “I met her about seven years ago when she was just his secretary,” Nate said. “He’s a persuasive man. She started working at the hotel, what, five years ago? Odds are pretty good he recruited her to keep tabs on you. It would have been just before Isabel disappeared the first time, right?”

  Maren sank into a chair and dropped her head. “Yes.” Pain stabbed through her soul at her utter stupidity.