The Reef Read Free Page B

and against his chest winked a silver piece of eight hanging from a chain. She wanted to ask him about it, to hear where he’d found it, and how.
    But he was smirking at her. Manners, pride and curiosity collided with a wall that kept her unnaturally silent as conversation flowed around her.
    Matthew bit into one of Marla’s generous ham sandwiches.
    â€œTerrific, Mrs. Beaumont. A lot better than the swill Buck and I are used to.”
    â€œYou have some more of this potato salad.” Flattered, she heaped a mound on his paper plate. “And it’s Marla, dear. Tate, you come on and get yourself some lunch.”
    â€œTate.” Matthew squinted against the sun as he studied her. “Unusual name.”
    â€œMarla’s maiden name.” Ray slipped an arm over his wife’s shoulders. He sat in wet bathing trunks, enjoying the warmth and company. His silvered hair danced in the light breeze. “Tate here’s been diving since she was pint-sized. Couldn’t ask for a better partner. Marla loves the sea, loves to sail, but she barely swims a stroke.”
    With a chuckle, Marla refilled tall glasses of iced tea. “I like looking at the water. Being in it’s something different altogether.” She sat back placidly with her drink. “Once it gets past my knees, I just panic. I always wonder if I drowned in a former life. So for this one, I’m happy tending the boat.”
    â€œAnd a fine one she is.” Buck had already assessed the Adventure. A tidy thirty-eight footer, teak decking, fancy brightwork. He’d guess she carried two staterooms, a full galley. Without his prescription face mask, he could still make out the massive windows of the pilothouse. He’d liked to have taken his fingers for a walk through the engine and control station.
    A look around later was in order, after he had his glasses. Even without them, he calculated that the diamond on Marla’s finger was a good five carats, and the gold circle on her right hand was antique.
    He smelled money.
    â€œSo, Ray . . .” Casually, he tipped back his glass. “Matthew and me, we’ve been diving around here for the past few weeks. Haven’t seen you.”
    â€œFirst dive today. We sailed down from North Carolina, started out the day Tate finished her spring semester.”
    College girl. Matthew took a hard swallow of cold tea. Jesus. He deliberately turned his gaze away from her legs and concentrated on his lunch. All bets were definitely off, he decided. He was nearly twenty-five and didn’t mess with snotty college kids.
    â€œWe’re going to spend the summer here,” Ray went on. “Possibly longer. Last winter, we dived off the coast of Mexico a few weeks. Couple of good wrecks there, but mostly played out. We managed to bring up a thing or two though. Some nice pottery, some clay pipes.”
    â€œAnd those lovely perfume bottles,” Marla put in.
    â€œBeen at it awhile, then,” Buck prompted.
    â€œTen years.” Ray’s eyes shone. “Fifteen since the first time I went down.” He leaned forward, hunter to hunter. “Friend of mine talked me into scuba lessons. After I’d certified, I went with him to Diamond Shoals. Only took one dive to hook me.”
    â€œNow he spends every free minute diving, planning a dive or talking about the last dive.” Marla let out her lusty laugh. Her eyes, the same rich green as her daughter’s, danced. “So I learned how to handle a boat.”
    â€œMe, I’ve been hunting more than forty years.” Buck scooped up the last of his potato salad. He hadn’t eaten so well in more than a month. “In the blood. My father was the same. We salvaged off the coast of Florida, before the government got so tight-assed. Me, my father and my brother. The Lassiters.”
    â€œYes, of course.” Ray slapped a hand on his knee. “I’ve read about you. Your