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“Gentlemen, if you’re done swapping barbs and figuratively smacking each other on the ass, perhaps we can get to work?”
The irritated voice scraped down Knox’s spine. He tossed a glance over his shoulder, even though he knew exactly who was going to be standing there.
She was just as gorgeously untouchable as Knox remembered. Every bright red hair on her head perfectly in place. Hell, the woman had even put on lip gloss. He didn’t want to notice how shiny, wet and utterly kissable it made her mouth, but he was human after all.
Knox took a deep breath, preparing for the battle he fully expected. He’d faced terrorists, bombs, men with machetes and machine guns. He’d been shot, stabbed and had various body parts nearly blown off in explosions.
It had been a long time since anything or anyone had unsettled him.
Avery Walsh scared the shit out of him.
“Welcome aboard, Firecracker,” Asher said.
Firecracker. It was the perfect nickname for the woman standing in front of them, and not simply because her hair was a deep, dark red, the sun popping bursts of copper off the mass pulled into a tight knot at the top of her head.
Knox didn’t want to admit, even to himself, just how much he wanted to reach up and pull every last pin out of the mass just to watch it tumble around her ivory face.
Avery Walsh struck him as the kind of woman who was wound so damn tight that at the first sign of friction she could simply spark up and ignite—and not necessarily in the good way.
He much preferred women who knew how to roll with the punches and wouldn’t hesitate to explore a good time. The kind who were up for any adventure as long as it had fun written all over it. Something told him Avery wouldn’t know fun if it bit her on the ass, and was more likely to maintain the ice-queen persona than explode with lust.
Which was a crying shame.
Asher let his gaze travel up and down Avery’s body in an open invitation that the man didn’t even realize he was making half the time. It usually had women melting into puddles at his feet.
Reinforcing Knox’s impression, Avery simply stared at Asher, her mouth thinning into a tight line before she completely dismissed him. “Mr. McLemore, I understand you’re in charge of the Amphitrite.”
Knox leaned back against the railing crossing his ankles. “I sure am, doc,” he drawled.
“Avery.” Her icy eyes snapped with annoyance. They were gorgeous and clear, unbelievably pale, which only added to the impression that she could cut you with nothing but a laser glance.
These next couple of weeks were going to be brilliant.
“Remind me to murder Jackson the next time I see him,” Knox muttered at Asher out of the side of his mouth.
“Loralei might have an objection.”
A few months ago, Jackson and Loralei had been at odds, racing to see who could find the Chimera first. It turned out they’d both won. Not just finding the ship, but each other as well.
Shaking his head, Knox pushed away from the railing, sauntering closer to the good doctor.
The self-indulgent part of him wanted to set her off-kilter. To ruffle her feathers just to prove he could. But even as he crowded close, towering above her despite the heels, Avery simply stood her ground.
Knox was the guy the SEALs had called on to crack the most difficult men, to interrogate and terrify. On the surface he might seem laid-back and unconcerned, but he’d broken some of the most stubborn and highly trained enemy operatives in the business without resorting to tactics that skirted legalities.
Dr. Walsh didn’t even flinch as he came within an inch of brushing against her body. She kept her eyes trained completely on his, her face perfectly blank as she stared up at him.
“Let me know when we’re finished with the pissing contest,” she said, her voice smoky and even.
All right. Apparently they weren’t going to dance around this thing. “I don’t want you here, Doctor.”
“Avery. And you made your position abundantly clear during my interview, Mr. McLemore. But here I am.”
A smile bloomed across her face. What did she have to smile about? They were locked in a battle of wills, one he was beginning to worry he might actually lose.
But even as that thought flashed across his brain, her damn smile distracted him. It changed everything, taking her from remote and untouchable to downright breathtaking. It didn’t just brighten her face, the twinkle in her eye revealed the first insight he’d gotten into how she ticked.
She was enjoying this, even if she’d never admit it. Getting off on the tension and antagonism between them.
Interesting.
“Just so we’re both clear on where we stand,” he said.
The corners of her lips lifted higher. “I know exactly where I’m standing—on the deck of your ship. So I guess I win.”
Knox couldn’t stop his own lips from twitching. “For now.”
It bothered him, her flat-out determination to be a part of this project, even in the face of his obvious lack of enthusiasm. That only made more warning bells clang deep inside his brain.
Why had she pushed so hard to be involved, to the point of contacting Jackson several times even after meeting with the Trident team? Was it simply ego and a drive for another line on her résumé, or was there something more behind her eagerness?
His instincts told him it was the latter, he just couldn’t prove it. Yet.
Cocking her head, she said, “In a few hours we’ll be in the middle of the Caribbean. I don’t think you can change the status quo by then, especially considering you lost that fight the first time around, but feel free to try.”
* * *
INSIDE, AVERY WAS a quaking mess. She was bluffing, but then most of her life had been a bluff.
The problem was, this time someone was waiting to call her on it.
Anderson McNair had her trapped and there was nothing she could do about it.
Almost six weeks ago he’d walked into her office and informed her that he knew her little secret and if she wanted it to stay just between the two of them she was going to help him. Remembering that day made her stomach churn with anxiety and guilt.
Anxiety and guilt she’d been fighting for years.
It didn’t help that Knox McLemore intimidated the hell out of her. Not to mention that he could set her body on fire with nothing more than a scorching gaze.
From the moment he’d nearly run her over with his shiny black speed demon of a car—in the Trident Diving parking lot, no less—she’d wanted to hate him. But she’d needed to win the job more, and not simply because working on the Chimera was the kind of project she lived for.
If she failed and they hired someone else, Anderson McNair would ruin her reputation and sink her business.
Part of her had hoped Trident would award the project to someone else. Then the years of wondering and worrying would have been over.
But her life wasn’t the only one poised to be ruined. Her sister, innocent in the entire situation, would suffer as well. And Avery couldn’t stomach that.
McNair expected her to sabotage the assignment...to torpedo her integrity and announce that the wreckage wasn’t the Chimera, no matter what the evidence proved.
Her only hope was that Jackson Duchane was wrong and the ship they were heading toward really wasn’t the Chimera.
Best-case scenario—but her life never worked that way.
Avery couldn’t worry about that right now, though. She needed to concentrate on getting through the next five minutes without Knox McLemore realizing how vulnerable to him she really was.
A feral smile crossed his face. “Let’s get one thing clear, doc.”
She hated that word. And not simply because Knox seemed to delight in shortening her professional title. That got under her skin plenty, but she preferred no one use it...because she hadn’t actually earned the damn thing.
“You’re on my ship. I make the rules.”
Knox studied her with a slow, lazy perusal that had lightning shooting beneath her skin. She’d already been sweltering under the pounding tropical sun, but suddenly sweat slicked every pulse point on her body.
She wanted to reach up, unbutton her blazer and sling it off. The only thing that stopped her was knowing the layer of linen was all that kept her tight nipples from Knox McLemore’s sharp gaze.
McLemore was the kind of man she stayed far away from—mellow, confident, purposely provocative. Because despite the persona she’d developed for business, inside she was still the shy, quiet girl who’d spent years moving from place to place and never quite fitting in anywhere.
Just standing in front of him left her edgy. She wanted to take a step back, but her feet were frozen in place.
She couldn’t seem to tear her eyes from Knox’s faded, ripped jeans and the T-shirt clinging to his powerful muscles. His dark brown hair was too damn long, flopping into his eyes in a way that both frustrated and enticed her.
She wanted to take a pair of scissors to it at the same time her fingers itched to pull it back so she could see his eyes. When it was in the way, it was difficult to know what he was thinking. Something that made her even more nervous.
Her skin itched. Her body throbbed. He was in her personal space and she wanted to break the connection, but her limbs simply wouldn’t respond.
Asher cleared his throat, finally breaking the spell. Relief rushed in when he said, “Why don’t I show you to your quarters, Firecracker?”
Avery graced him with a tight, grateful smile.
“Thanks.”
She was hot, tired and sticky. Getting out of her travel-stained clothes sounded like heaven.
She turned to follow Asher, but unfortunately Knox kept pace behind them. She could feel the heat of his hot caramel eyes sweeping up her back.
“You know these allegations are bullshit,” Knox said from behind her.
This was even ground, arguing with him about the job. “No, I don’t know that, Mr. McLemore. And I’m fairly certain you don’t either. There’s enough doubt that the judge was ready to rule against your request for diving rights.”
“And enough evidence that they agreed to wait for further verification,” he said, each word lazy and sure. She didn’t know which she hated worse, when he was intentionally antagonistic or when he seemed smugly certain her presence here was a waste of everyone’s time.
Unfortunately, he wasn’t wrong. She’d read the research presented by the Trident team. She’d followed the detailed information on just how Jackson Duchane and Loralei Lancaster had come to find the wreckage. She had to admit their case was strong, but whatever evidence McNair had provided was enough to cast doubt...not that she necessarily thought it valid.
But Knox didn’t need to know that.
“She’s the Chimera, doc.”
Avery gritted her teeth, resisting the urge to correct Knox again about the damn nickname. He was doing it on purpose now, which drove her insane. But she wasn’t willing to play his game.
“That’s what I’m here to find out, Knox.” In the cramped hallway, she stopped, turning to face him. Better to deal with this now than later. “This whole process will go much smoother if you get out of my way and let me do my job. We both want the same outcome.”
Knox reached out, as if he was going to touch her arm, but stopped just short of actually doing it. They both stared at his fingers just hanging there in the empty space between them.
“I’m not entirely certain that’s true.”
She tried not to let his distrust panic her. “Why do you say that?”
Knox pressed closer, invading her personal space without actually touching her. The pressure of anxiety and awareness weighed on her chest, making it difficult to pull in a full breath while she waited for his answer.
Only he never gave her one. Instead, his lips pulled up into a smile that wasn’t real.
“I’ll have your bags sent down, doc.”
2 (#u7ef07efe-a5d5-53bd-b4e1-5f8d1701b8de)
SEVERAL HOURS LATER they were finally underway, heading for the open sea. Later than Knox had wanted because of a few logistical snags...including hauling all six of Dr. Walsh’s suitcases onto the ship.
Had the woman packed her entire wardrobe? What did she expect to need on a ship in the middle of the Caribbean?
He’d thought about opening every one of her bags and rifling through—with the intent to toss any heels, pearls or matching pantsuits he found along the way—but had decided his blood pressure probably couldn’t take the exercise.
Besides, he’d figured his time would be better spent looking for something that would tell him what she was hiding. Although, he didn’t do that either.
Avery had disappeared into the cabin she’d been assigned, which she had to herself despite their already cramped quarters since the only other woman on the ship, their cook, had quarters right off the galley. So far, she hadn’t resurfaced. Not even for dinner or to meet the crew.
They were all going to be working together for the next few weeks. The least she could have done was introduce herself and pass around a smile.
Trident had been open for a little over two years, but even though they were a relatively new business, and quite a few of the crew had only recently been hired on, they were a tight-knit group.
Maybe it was a legacy from their time in the Teams, but Asher, Jackson and Knox had worked hard at building camaraderie and a sense of family with their employees. As soldiers, they’d depended on each other for their lives. While they no longer worked with bullets flying, you had to trust that the guy beside you knew what he was doing and could competently and quickly complete his job, freeing you up to do the same.
They worked hard, and they played hard. When jobs required 24/7 commitment and living in tight quarters, it was sometimes just as important to blow off steam together.
Rather than wallow in irritation, Knox had come up on deck to try and calm down. The quiet shush against the hull as the Amphitrite cut through the water would normally have been enough to accomplish that. But not tonight. What he really needed was a spin behind the wheel of his Shelby, but that wasn’t in the cards.
Tonight he was restless, the first time he’d felt that way since leaving the Teams. Somehow, after living through more life-and-death situations than he cared to count, not even the stress of owning his own business made him uneasy.
There was something about this whole adventure, though, that didn’t sit right with him. Not just having Avery aboard. But the allegations McNair was making.
In his gut, Knox knew this was an attempt to grab their work. This had to be McNair’s play to claim the wreckage and treasure for himself. When Trident had announced that the Chimera had been found, there was a frenzy of interest, rumors of gold heading for the Confederate States a huge media draw.
They’d already been approached by a documentary crew from a major science channel interested in recording the process of salvaging and preserving the wreckage. Kennedy was currently working to get the details for that project in place.
McNair was simply one of the sharks that had swum out of the depths.
But unlike the others, he was causing serious problems.
Knox wasn’t going to let McNair’s claims derail their plans for the Chimera. And, unfortunately, Avery Walsh was a major part of solving the issues plaguing them. So he needed to take Asher’s advice—bite his tongue around the maddening woman and let her do her job.
