The Reef Read Free Page B

studied her. “Unusual name.”
    “Marla’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.”
    “And 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.
    “So, 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.”
    “First 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.
    “We’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.”
    “And those lovely perfume bottles,” Marla put in.
    “Been at it awhile, then,” Buck prompted.
    “Ten 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.”
    “Now 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.”
    “Me, 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.”
    “Yes, of course.” Ray slapped a hand on his knee. “I’ve read about you. Your father was Big Matt Lassiter. Found the El Diablo off Conch Key in ’sixty-four.”
    “ ’Sixty-three,” Buck corrected, with a grin. “Found it, and the fortune she held. The kind of gold a man dreams of, jewels, ingots of silver. I held in my hand a gold chain with a figure of a dragon. A fucking gold dragon,” he said, then stopped, flushed. “Beg pardon, ma’am.”
    “No need.” Fascinated with the image, Marla urged another sandwich on him. “What was it like?”
    “Like nothing you can imagine.” At ease again, Buck chomped into ham. “There were rubies for its eyes, emeralds in its tail.” Bitterly, he looked down at his hands now and found them empty. “It was worth five fortunes.”
    Caught up in the wonder, Ray stared. “Yes. I’ve seen pictures of it. Diablo’s Dragon. You brought it up. Extraordinary.”
    “The state closed in,” Buck continued.