The memory of last night’s kiss played upon Jeanne’s mind and body like a tune that one wants to be rid of and it simply will not go away. Throughout the day at Isla Codo, it had replayed with each sly wink Gabe gave her or with that bad-boy grin of his. Worse, Ann didn’t give Jeanne the third degree, which only meant one thing: the effect Gabe was having on her was written all over her face.
By the day’s end, the only thing that either Gabe or Jeanne had disclosed regarding their excursion to Akumal was its ultimate outcome. Tex Milland wasn’t there. Gabe had been talking to Tex’s partner at the cantina and was about to find out the explosive expert’s whereabouts, when she’d walked in and the whole place went loco.
And then she’d gone loco in the garden in Gabe’s arms.
They had irreconcilable differences. She’d told herself that over and over on the trip back to Punta Azul after Tito and his brother returned with the van. Yet when Gabe kissed her good night upon arriving home, she’d melted in his arms like butter in a hot pan . . . again. Between arguing with herself and praying, sleep had been intermittent at best. God had offered no suggestions, not even in the wee hours of the morning—His favorite time for waking Jeanne with some kind of epiphany when she was bothered.
Tired and a little disheartened over the loss of another day, Jeanne trudged down to the dock, while Gabe and Manolo washed down the Fallen Angel with a garden hose. Without their explosive expert on hand, Gabe had ventured into the mauve forest of a reef as far as he dared. With Manolo and Nick giving directions from a raised platform that had been rigged on the bow, the captain nosed the Angel through a maze of coral towers and walls until they’d reached a dead end. With the depth-sounding instruments registering panic, it had been nerve-wracking to say the least. At any moment, an unseen swipe from the sword-sharp reef could have cut into the ship.
At Jeanne’s suggestion, they’d finally stopped and dived from the rubber raft into the section of the reef nearest the Angel’s anchorage to find out what they could. Working shifts at two hours each, they had magged, probed, and taken photos of the reef, all efforts indicating that the main wreckage of Luna Azul was in the middle, where it couldn’t be reached without some major changes in their plans.
Marshall Arnauld’s offer of help if they needed it plagued Jeanne’s mind every moment. He probably had a shallow-draft barge ready to go. But something told her that she’d have to choose between Arnauld and Gabe; and of the two, she knew and trusted the bird in her hand. At least, she thought she did.
“Excuse me, ma’am,” someone said from the bench in front of the bait shop.
Jeanne stopped, startled. She’d been so absorbed in thought that she’d hadn’t seen the man who rose as if saddle-stiff and walked toward her. “That Gabe Avery’s boat? Old Paco inside said he usually comes in about this time of day.”
“Yes—yes, it is,” Jeanne stammered.
He had a pleasant smile as wide as his wing tip mustache and light brown hair silvered at the temples. Wearing denim jeans, a tablecloth-red-checked shirt, and a worn leather vest with a watch chain dangling from its pocket, he looked as if he’d stepped off an ad for a dude ranch. The pointed toes of his cowboy boots stirred dust as he removed a ten-gallon hat and stopped in front of her.
“The name’s Tex Milland. And who might you be, little filly?”
Jeanne closed the gape of her mouth, hoping it hadn’t been too obvious. He reminded her of Teddy Roosevelt, but his name bounced about in her mind like a rocket run amok. Tex Milland! Thank you, Jesus.
“Mr. Milland,” she said upon finding her voice. “I’m Dr. Jeanne Madison. I . . . we’ve been looking for you.”
Incredulous, he backed off and gave her a head to toe appraisal over the wire rims of his sunglasses. “You don’t look a day over sixteen, doc.”
“I am, trust me,” she assured him. Was he here on her business or his? Surely, the cantina Milland owned had sustained some damages last night. A darting look around revealed no sign of a police vehicle, only a dusty Jeep Wrangler.
“Well . . .” He cleared his throat and spat to the side with such force that Jeanne heard it splat on the hard-packed sand. She didn’t care to look for further verification that the man chewed tobacco. “Just point me in Gabe’s direction. I heard he was looking for me and got into a little tumble with the locals over a good-lookin’ señorita in a yellow dress. Town’s still talking about it.”
Jeanne groaned inwardly at Tex’s knowing wink. Thank God her brothers were miles and miles away.
“Gabe was just protecting me from an inebriated man who insisted I dance with him. He punched Gabe for asking him to leave me alone and then the whole place just . . .” She caught her breath and let it go with a hapless sigh. “It just erupted.”
“Don’t think nothin’ of it, ma’am. We had a bunch of folks in from outta town and the party started earlier than usual. Otherwise, it woulda been peaceful as a church service that time a’day. Akumal is usually a quiet kind of place on both sides of the highway.” He looked toward the end of the dock where Gabe wound up the hose. “Well, there’s that son of a sea biscuit now.” Slapping his hat on, he nodded and tipped it. “Dr. Madison, it’s been my honor.”
Before Jeanne could gather her wits, Tex Milland started down the dock, boot heels clicking on the warped planks.
“G’day, sir,” he said, tipping his hat upon meeting Remy coming toward them.
Pivoting to look after Milland, Remy nearly fell off the dock. Catching himself, he rushed to where Jeanne stood. “What was that, some Halloween leftover?”
“No,” she told him. “That was Tex Milland, our demolitions expert.”
“Ah.” Remy shifted his attention from the cowpoke to Jeanne. “It seems your trip rousted him after all. Did you enjoy yourself?”
The vibration of the cell phone clipped to her waistband saved Jeanne from having to answer. Feeling heat creep to her face, she flipped open the phone and hit a button.
“Jeanne Madison here.”
“Perdón, but I was given this number to call for a hair appointment,” a heavily accented voice responded, uncertain. “Perhaps I have the wrong number, but Capitán Gabriel Avery left for me this message.”
“Are you Teresa?” Jeanne asked. Gabe had told her he was waiting to hear from a hairdresser, someone he knew who worked at a nearby resort.
“Sí, I am Teresa. I try the other number he gave, but there is no answer.”
“Teresa, un momento.” Jeanne covered the mouthpiece of her phone. “I’ll be a while, Remy. But yes, we enjoyed the day.”
Stiff with disapproval, Remy nodded and left in the direction of the guest lodges.
Jeanne released the anxious breath she’d held. “Bueno, Teresa,” she said into the cell phone. “Thank you so much for calling. Your timing was perfect.”
A few hours later, Jeanne reported to her brothers on the lodge office phone, while Ann laid the freshly developed pictures from the day’s dive out on the dining hall table. Each one had been marked with the direction of the shot according to Pablo’s written calculations on the underwater boards. One by one, she and Pablo took painstaking care to match them to a number on his chart of the reef.
Tex Milland, now on board for a share of the take, read over Jeanne’s documentation with fevered eyes. By the time she’d showered, changed, and returned to the Angel, it was a done deal. Now she watched the amiable Texan point out something to Gabe as she covered their progress, or lack thereof, in her call with Blaine. Mark had taken off for childbirth classes.
“The site was magging like crazy, and we hit something solid under the sand with the probes,” Jeanne told her eldest brother. “We found a little more debris—some broken pottery, a belt buckle, and ballast stones. Remy said they were consistent with the time period. Of course what we found was mostly in the lagoon in the middle of the coral, which is why we need Milland.”
She saw no reason to worry everyone by revealing Gabe’s assessment of the Texas misfit’s character, especially since he’d been nothing but 100 percent charming in an Old West way.
“You do what you have to do, Jeanne,” Blaine told her. “I’ll take care of contacting the stockholders and letting them know what we’re up against.”
Filled with a renewed sense of love and support, she joined the others. She hoped they’d have a course of action when they left in the morning, since Tex, upon hearing that Gabe wanted him to do some explosive work, had brought the supplies he needed with him. Just leave it to God to take over when her best efforts fell short.
“I’m saying, sir,” Remy declared in righteous indignation as Jeanne emerged from the office, “that your dog relieves himself daily by my video camera and invariably knocks it off its tripod. I not only soiled my shoes when I retrieved this morning’s film, but found it contained footage of the deed . . . that is, after he chased away all the birds from their early morning feed at the pond.”
“All right, Prim—” Gabe clipped his annoyance, adding an awkward, “—ston.” He looked under the table to where Nemo lazed at his feet. “Stop using the camera zone for the loo, Nemo. Got it?”
Gabe knew full well that he might as well talk to the camera for all the good it would do. Mistaking reprimand for a bid of affection, Nemo rose and rubbed his head against Gabe’s leg, tail wagging.
“Got it?” Gabe’s stern question exacted a short, unconvincing bark from the Lab. “Although, if I were you”—the captain returned his attention to Remy—“I’d continue to watch my step. The furry blackguard’s been known to lie about such things.”
Jeanne swallowed a giggle.
Remy rose, incensed by the lack of concern. “I caught but a glimpse of an azure-rumped tanager. They’ve hardly been seen outside Chiapas. Have you any idea how rare footage is of an azure-rumped tanager?”
From the withering glare of Gabe’s expression, he not only had no idea, but he didn’t care.
“C’mon, Remy,” Ann called out from the Ping-Pong table where she, Nick, Mara, and Stuart had been playing. “I’m done for the night. Let’s have a look in the kitchen and see if we can find some cayenne to discourage Nemo. I heard a cayenne sprinkle is the natural way to deal with troublesome animals. Then we’ll take a gander at your camera to see if we can lock it in place better. Till they get their act together, you and I can’t do much anyway.”
Jeanne gave her friend a grateful look. “Now, back to the wreck site. We really need to contain the blast to preserve it.”
“Which I go on record as protesting against,” Remy announced from the door.
“You hit the nail right on the head, darlin’,” Milland agreed. “And judging from these pictures and the data on the chart that Pablo and your bunch collected today, I think I know exactly where to start.”
Jeanne watched as he drew a diagonal line from one point outside the reef to the shoreline where they’d put off Nick, Mara, and Ann the other day.
“Three main dive sites,” Pablo observed. “Our first hit—”
“—And the mother lode strewn in the lagoon here and here.” Gabe’s eyes glowed as he met Jeanne’s across the chart. “Sleep well, tonight, sweet. It will be the last time for a good while.”