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  She didn’t seem to notice the car, since it fit right in the surroundings anyway, but leaned forward to drink in the rustic beauty of Lucy Sharpe’s home and the Bullet Catchers’ headquarters. He used the excuse to draw her closer, kissing her hair, then tilting her face up to get to her mouth.

  “What was that for?” she asked.

  “I need a reason?”

  “No, but that kiss had a purpose.”

  “Every kiss has a purpose. To show you how I feel about you.”

  She smiled. “I know how you feel about me.”

  Then maybe she wouldn’t want to kill him when she walked in. But if he had told her, she would have refused to come. And having her here was critical to their success.

  As they reached the front, the door opened, held by Avery Cole, a young woman with wide-set brown eyes and sleek dark hair, her dimpled smile warm.

  “Hello, Con,” she said, inviting them in with a glance toward Lizzie. “I don’t think Lucy mentioned that anyone else was coming to the meeting today.”

  “This is Lizzie Dare, Avery,” Con said. “I thought she should be here.”

  After they greeted each other, Avery warned Con, “Lucy’s not big on surprises.”

  “I’ve heard.”

  “I’ll let them know you’re here.” She disappeared up a wide set of mahogany stairs, leaving them in an oversize entryway alone.

  He should tell her now, but that would still give her time to bolt.

  Taking her hand, he pulled her closer. “We’re a team, Lizzie,” he said in her ear. “Don’t forget that.”

  She looked up at him, confusion darkening her eyes. “I still don’t know why you want me here to negotiate your contract.”

  “That part of the meeting is later. This part is why I want you here.”

  She frowned. “What part?”

  Avery appeared at the top of the stairs. “They’re in the war room, Con. Come on up.”

  Still holding Lizzie’s hand, they walked up the oriental carpet that hushed the sound of footsteps. To the right, Lucy’s library door was open, but the large antique writing table she used for a desk was empty. He led Lizzie to the conference and meeting room next door to that. When they reached the arched opening, she froze.

  “Elizabeth Dare, what a wonderful surprise!” Judd Paxton’s voice boomed his greeting as he crossed the room, hands outstretched, gray eyes twinkling. “I’m so delighted you are going to join us.”

  She turned slowly, her eyes narrowing at Con.

  “Trust me, sweetheart,” he whispered.

  She had no choice but to return Paxton’s handshake.

  Con introduced her to Lucy, who seemed unfazed by the unexpected addition, but she’d make her feelings known later.

  On one side of the room, a world map monitor marked the whereabouts of every Bullet Catcher. The rest of the screens that took up most of the walls were dark, a sign that, for one brief day, anyway, there were no major crises underway for the company or its clients.

  Just the one brewing in the war room itself.

  Avery returned, carrying a large container that she set on the table, opening it to reveal the scepters resting on black satin, the single blue diamond nestled between them.

  Lizzie folded her hands and stared across the table at Con.

  “Let’s start out this meeting with a tribute to a very great and astute man,” Judd said, settling in next to Lizzie, either oblivious or unconcerned with the palpable waves of discord from her. “A man I always admired for his dedication to the archaeological aspects of treasure hunting.”

  She dropped her eyes to the treasure on the table, working for control.

  “That man,” he continued, “had a saying I always liked. Posterity, not prosperity.”

  Judd held out his two hands in a generous gesture of benevolence, as though he were blessing the scepters. “In honor of Malcolm Dare, I propose to have these donated to the country of Portugal.” He beamed with the announcement. “Lucy, I would like someone from your company supervise the safe delivery of these to the proper officials and ensure that a Bullet Catcher team is part of the exhibit security when they are displayed to the public.”

  Lizzie shifted in her seat.

  Con knew what she was thinking: without the matching Bombay Blue diamonds, the scepters weren’t the world-altering treasure they once were.

  “We can certainly handle that, Judd,” Lucy said. “And what about the dives you’re planning next season?”

  “I don’t think I’ll need that level of on-board security again,” he replied, his attention on Con. “But I owe you a debt of gratitude, young man, for identifying the real problem on my dive.”

  “And Lizzie,” Con added.

  “Of course, Lizzie.”

  “It was a team effort,” Lizzie said. “Without Sam being willing to hold a gun to his wife’s head, and then turn over evidence that will convict her, God only knows how Charlotte would have wormed her way out of this. Since the FBI investigators were able to trace Alita’s death to Dare Hawn, we finally have some closure on my father’s death.”

  “I agree,” Judd said. “And as far as my stepson, I know he has personal problems, but his mother and I have decided to give him another chance, with additional responsibilities in the company.”

  Not as the manager of the El Falcone dive, Con thought. But there’d be a more effective way to drop his bomb, so he said nothing.

  “Everyone deserves a second chance, Judd,” Lucy said pointedly. “I think that’s very wise of you.”

  “I’m sure I’ll have a lot more business for the Bullet Catchers, however,” Judd assured her. “And I’ll add you to my list of preferred specialists, Con. Assuming you are signing on permanently with the operation.”

  Lucy smiled. “We’re working out the details in our next meeting.”

  Con leaned forward. “No.”

  “Excuse me?” For once, Lucy was fazed. A little.

  “I’m saying ‘no’ to giving these to Portugal,” Con said.

  “Con.” Lucy put a calming hand on his arm. “We understand your position that they belong to Ms. Dare’s family, but the fact is that the scepter that is intact was recovered on a salvage dive sponsored by Paxton Treasures. And, Lizzie,”—she turned to address the other woman—“you really have no claim to it without a long and arduous legal battle. The other scepter is not that valuable without the matching diamond. This is the best solution, giving you exactly what you want: the treasure in a public museum and not in the hands of a private owner.”

  “Not enough,” Con said quietly.

  “Con, we don’t negotiate with our clients.”

  “I’m not part of this company yet, Lucy, so this man is not my client.” He turned to Judd. “And, frankly, this isn’t a negotiation. And this isn’t just about the scepters; it’s about the entire El Falcone salvage effort.”

  Lizzie sat up straighter, a soft intake of breath.

  “Every single item recovered is going to be donated for exhibit and display in a museum.” Con crossed his arms and leaned forward, meeting her gaze. “And Elizabeth Dare is going to oversee the dive, the recovery, the conservation and cleaning, the processing, and ultimately will control the setup of the public exhibit. Paxton Treasures will finance the entire project.”

  The first hint of a smile teased Lizzie’s lips.

  Judd’s jaw dropped open. “I’m afraid that would cost me millions and make me far less. I didn’t get where I am in this world by doing business that way.”

  “No, you didn’t,” Lizzie said quietly. “You got there by muscling others out of your way, by forcing your agenda on the salvage and recovery industry, and by making your name synonymous with treasure hunting.”

  Mouth turned down in mock self-deprecation, Judd shrugged. “I didn’t do all of those things on my own, my dear.”

  “Of course not. You’ve had help from people like my father. From hundreds of divers and treasure hunters along the way,
and quite a few wealthy people who bought what your teams brought up from the bottom of the ocean.”

  Paxton backed up. “Look, if this is going to turn into some kind of name-calling argument, I’m out of here. As Lucy said, there can be a legal battle. And you will lose.”

  “El Falcone is the biggest recovery effort in a decade or more,” Con replied, ignoring the threat. “This is your chance to do the right thing, for posterity, not prosperity.”

  “Why would I do that?”

  Con opened the file he had in front of him and slid a piece of paper across the table.

  “This is a list of people I know personally. Some I’ve worked for; some I’ve worked …” He glanced at Lucy with a half smile. “Against. You’ll notice they are some of the wealthiest art collectors in the world, as well as quite a few individuals who deal in the gray and black market of treasure hunting.”

  Judd read the list, his fists clenching tighter with every name. “What’s the meaning of this?”

  “Those people have personally guaranteed me that they will not purchase a single item of treasure salvaged from El Falcone. They are also spreading the word among other acquaintances to do the same.”

  The friendly gray eyes weren’t so warm now. “That’s … preposterous.”

  “As you know, the world of collecting treasure is a small one,” Con continued. “This recovery effort is going to receive massive media attention and generate enormous goodwill as a worldwide traveling exhibition. The benefits to Paxton Treasures are intangible but tremendous. And, of course, there’s the small problem of finding buyers …”

  Judd read the page again, and while he did, Lucy’s expression remained impassive. She wasn’t happy, but she wasn’t arguing, either. Big point for the boss.

  “You’re right,” Judd finally said. “It’s a PR move that will give Paxton a wholly different kind of payback.” He turned to Lizzie and held out his hand. “Congratulations, young lady, you’ve got the job.”

  “Thank you.” She shook his hand.

  “I think we’ve wrapped this up for now, Lucy,” Judd said, standing to shake her hand and Con’s. “Why don’t you walk out with me, Lizzie, so we can iron out some of the details.”

  “I’d love to.” She gave Con a warm smile, her golden brown eyes dancing. “Excuse me for a few minutes.”

  When they left, Con turned to Lucy, bracing himself for the dressing-down.

  “You love her,” she said quietly.

  He smiled. “I do.”

  “Enough to fight this battle, to risk infuriating me, and to threaten a client.”

  He shrugged. “Having me work for you won’t always be easy, Lucy.”

  “I don’t need easy,” she said. “I need smart. And that was very smart.” She pushed away from the table. “Come into my office. I have the contract drawn up.”

  He followed her through a side door into her library, crossing to the antique chair in front of her desk.

  After Lucy sat behind her writing table, she smoothed her loose-fitting jacket. “As you know, I’m expecting a baby, and I’ve decided to make some changes in the organization.”

  “Really? I didn’t imagine having a baby would change anything for you, Lucy.”

  “It won’t change me, and it won’t change this company. I’m just going to structure things slightly differently and give up some measure of control.” She held up her thumb and index finger a fraction apart. “Some small measure.”

  “What do you have in mind?”

  “I’m dividing the company into specific departments, with capable individuals at the helm of each. All department heads will report to Dan Gallagher.” She flashed a smile. “I believe you mentioned wanting his job.”

  “Gallagher’s a good guy.” Fair and smart.

  “He’ll report to me, as will a few others,” she continued. “One of the new departments will specialize in preventing and investigating art crimes—something we’ve done on an ad hoc basis, but I’d like to formalize it.”

  “I know a little about art crimes.”

  “And every player in the world of collecting, as you just proved. I’d like you to head the Bullet Catchers Art Crimes division, Con. I think you’d be masterful both in the field and as a manager.”

  “Head it?” he asked, surprised.

  “You’ll report directly to Dan. Then you two can start arm wrestling for his job anytime you like.”

  “Thank you, Lucy. I’m in.”

  “Great. And I have your first assignment, which happens to be in the Azores.”

  “You’re kidding, right?”

  “Perfectly serious. I just got a call from my friend on the Lisbon police force, who knew I’d be interested in this one. It seems someone on Corvo found something of great worth and is trying to sell it.” She handed him a file. “You might want to retrieve that—it should be a huge boon to the El Falcone exhibit. I didn’t mention this to Judd because it seemed … premature.”

  He took the file, fighting a grin. “You’re a good woman, Lucy.”

  “And you, I’ve discovered, are a good man.”

  He just laughed softly.

  EPILOGUE

  One Year Later

  “LIGHTS OUT, LIZZIE?”

  From the back of the cavernous hotel ballroom of the Fontainebleau Miami Beach, Con stood at the wall, his voice as anxious as the hand on the light switch.

  “Not yet,” she said, crossing the room, eyeing each display, making sure the treasures were laid out just the way she wanted them to be. “This is the calm before the storm, and I want to enjoy it.”

  “This is the last night we’re going to be together for a week and a half,” he said pointedly. “And I want to enjoy it.”

  She laughed lightly. “I do, too. But I’m not quite ready to give up this moment. It’s been a long year getting here.”

  He flipped a switch, leaving only a few halogen spotlights on the most important pieces of the exhibit.

  Tomorrow, when the television crews and journalists from around the world arrive for the launch of El Falcone: The Life and Times of Captain Aramis Dare, these will be the lights that come on first, with music and narration and all the drama befitting the most important salvage effort in the history of Paxton Treasures.

  “I have to say,” she mused, looking at the gold chains that winked under one light, “Old Judd kept his half of the bargain, giving generously to the exhibit.”

  “He’s smart enough to know he’s swimming in good press,” Con said, walking slowly toward her in the middle of the room. “And you’ve done the same, sweetheart. You’ve given him quite a year.”

  “It was quite a dive,” she agreed. “With Sam as my divemaster, Brianna as my lead diver, and all of my father’s closest friends and colleagues on board, I can honestly say it was the best dive of my life.” She reached for his hand. “The best year of my life.”

  “I personally liked the weekends when you let visitors on board.” He threaded her fingers into his, pulling her knuckles to his mouth for a kiss. “And after this exhibit opening, we’ll have a year where we never have to leave each other.”

  “Yep. There’s another amazing year ahead.” He’d arranged to travel with her as the security expert on the exhibit. And when they’d gone to New York to celebrate the birth of Lucy and Jack’s baby girl, Dan Gallagher, the new Director of Global Operations, had suggested that Lizzie consider consulting for the Bullet Catchers as an underwater treasure expert.

  She hadn’t taken the offer yet, but a future with Con seemed possible and real, and so very right.

  “You know, a year ago, this was a pipe dream—a reason for Brianna and me to keep my father’s memory alive.” She swept a hand toward the massive oil painting that Lucy had commissioned for the exhibit as the Bullet Catchers’ donation. “Every time I look at that, I smile, because we did this for him.”

  Once they had all the documentation and most of the treasure recovered, they were able to fill in the historic
al blanks. Aramis Dare had been cheated and run down by the real thief, Carlos Bettencourt, and killed when his enemy sank El Falcone with cannon shot.

  The painting recreated the battle at sea, with both captains at the helms of their ships. The image of Aramis was devilishly handsome, a perfect portrait of Malcolm Dare.

  Lizzie and Brianna had cried when it was unveiled.

  “You did this for him,” Con corrected. “I’m not taking any credit, except to be smart enough to follow you into the lab and risk a nitric acid bath to see you naked.”

  She slid her arm around his waist and dropped her head to his powerful shoulder, the one she’d gotten so used to sleeping on, and leaning on. “I’m sorry I almost blinded you. You know it was an accident, and that I love you.”

  “I love you, too.” He kissed the top of her head tenderly. “Though I bet you’d love me more if I hadn’t lost the other Bombay Blue.”

  She couldn’t love him more. “You saved my life, Con.”

  He held her gaze. “Then we’re even, honey.” He put his lips over hers and whispered into her mouth, “ ’Cause you saved mine.”

  Her heart swelled with the familiar sensation of wholeness she had with him, and the growing belief that they could stay together forever and the whole world would just keep getting better.

  Then she pulled him to the centerpiece of the exhibit where the scepters were propped up next to each other, the lone blue diamond on a sea of black velvet between them. “I’m used to the asymmetry now, and I like the presentation the curator came up with. It’s still a remarkable recovery, and that beauty”—she nodded toward the diamond—“is getting a lot of press coverage all by itself.”

  The halogen light above the display had been placed to highlight the facets in the jewel, reflecting a million blue prisms that would always remind Lizzie of the color of Con’s eyes.

  “It would look better if there were two,” he maintained. “They should be together for eternity—not separated by an ocean.”

  She smiled at him, getting his double entendre, warmed by the romantic notion. “I admit, it would be nice to see them together. We never did, you know. We’ve seen them both separately, but never together.”