later."
"I’ve been hungry for over two hours," Blaine complained. Actually, it hadn't been more than an hour-and-a-half since he first grumbled about going back for lunch. But there was no point in Chase correcting him. "If you want to get paid anytime soon, I’d suggest turning this boat around." He tossed the towel in a heap and dropped into the khaki folding chair. With his back to them, he appeared to be staring at rolling waves in the distance.
Chase moaned inside. They’d agreed to bring the kid along only to get their equipment out of hock and to cover fuel costs for another round trip. If everything had gone according to plan, by now he and Ian would be floating filled goody bags instead of waiting for pirates to ransack their treasure. As he caught another glimpse of Legend , Chase found himself fighting the urge to use the pipsqueak as a negotiable hostage.
Once the anchor was raised, Chase turned over the engines. He was about to throw the throttle into gear when an unlikely solution dawned on him. Angling toward Blaine, he posed the two-hundred-thousand-dollar question – the question that could revive their slackened salvage operation. “Say, kid. How’d you like to be part of a treasure hunt?"
Ian nearly launched out of the co-pilot seat. But Chase’s scowl silenced him in nothing flat. After sinking back into the white vinyl chair, Ian folded his arms over his chest.
"Mmm…" Blaine’s gaze had found something over Chase’s shoulder. When he smiled and nodded his head, it appeared the genius was putting two and two together. "So, you want me to join your expedition?" he asked.
Ian’s laugh morphed into an exaggerated chuckle. "That’s right. Pirates of the Caribbean…"
Chase blanketed Ian’s discouraging pun. "This isn’t a joke, Blaine. What I’m talking about is real . We got ourselves a renegade merchant ship that was secretly carrying a fortune in gold."
"So what’s this going cost me?” Blaine asked.
Chase glanced at Ian. “With fuel, repairs, equipment – ”
“ How much, Mr. Cohen?”
“ We’ll probably need around eighteen for starters.”
“ Eighteen hundred? Shit…no problem.”
“ Thousand,” Chase corrected.
“ You don't say. Now that’s a lot of change.”
“ But you can manage it, right?”
A moment of silence. “I suppose. And just what kind of dividend would I earn in all this?" Blaine arched a brow. “I mean if I were to bail you out, then wouldn’t I deserve a nice share of the bootie you’d be stealing out from under that starboard ship?"
The kid was a fast learner – in a scary sort of way. "What do you have in mind?" Chase said, already regretting the question.
"I’ll put up thirty thousand. In exchange, I tag along for a week. Whether I’m here or not, I get forty percent. Way I see it, that's more than fair."
"Are you out of yer fuckin’ mind?" The words flew out of Ian’s mouth before Chase had the chance to block them.
"Only seems right if I’m covering the majority of your costs. You're going to eventually need new dive gear, hookahs and a side scanner. And word has it you trashed your compressor, so your blowers are down. Might have to add an extra ten percent to replace that." The kid had the same high-stake poker smile Chase had seen on the game show network. Their fish was quickly turning into a major asshole, a wheeling and dealing asshole. Still, fifty percent of something was better than nothing. Especially if it meant beating Legend’s crew in a race to the federal courthouse.
Chase slid the throttle into full gear and headed for the harbor. "Meet me at the dive shop tomorrow morning at seven and bring along your checkbook," he called out. "You’re going to need it."
Ian’s head dropped. He hugged his middle like he’d been socked in his gut, not relaxing his arms until they finally entered the harbor. "Can’t believe you’re doin’ this," he huffed under his breath, out of Blaine’s earshot.
"What
"I’ve been hungry for over two hours," Blaine complained. Actually, it hadn't been more than an hour-and-a-half since he first grumbled about going back for lunch. But there was no point in Chase correcting him. "If you want to get paid anytime soon, I’d suggest turning this boat around." He tossed the towel in a heap and dropped into the khaki folding chair. With his back to them, he appeared to be staring at rolling waves in the distance.
Chase moaned inside. They’d agreed to bring the kid along only to get their equipment out of hock and to cover fuel costs for another round trip. If everything had gone according to plan, by now he and Ian would be floating filled goody bags instead of waiting for pirates to ransack their treasure. As he caught another glimpse of Legend , Chase found himself fighting the urge to use the pipsqueak as a negotiable hostage.
Once the anchor was raised, Chase turned over the engines. He was about to throw the throttle into gear when an unlikely solution dawned on him. Angling toward Blaine, he posed the two-hundred-thousand-dollar question – the question that could revive their slackened salvage operation. “Say, kid. How’d you like to be part of a treasure hunt?"
Ian nearly launched out of the co-pilot seat. But Chase’s scowl silenced him in nothing flat. After sinking back into the white vinyl chair, Ian folded his arms over his chest.
"Mmm…" Blaine’s gaze had found something over Chase’s shoulder. When he smiled and nodded his head, it appeared the genius was putting two and two together. "So, you want me to join your expedition?" he asked.
Ian’s laugh morphed into an exaggerated chuckle. "That’s right. Pirates of the Caribbean…"
Chase blanketed Ian’s discouraging pun. "This isn’t a joke, Blaine. What I’m talking about is real . We got ourselves a renegade merchant ship that was secretly carrying a fortune in gold."
"So what’s this going cost me?” Blaine asked.
Chase glanced at Ian. “With fuel, repairs, equipment – ”
“ How much, Mr. Cohen?”
“ We’ll probably need around eighteen for starters.”
“ Eighteen hundred? Shit…no problem.”
“ Thousand,” Chase corrected.
“ You don't say. Now that’s a lot of change.”
“ But you can manage it, right?”
A moment of silence. “I suppose. And just what kind of dividend would I earn in all this?" Blaine arched a brow. “I mean if I were to bail you out, then wouldn’t I deserve a nice share of the bootie you’d be stealing out from under that starboard ship?"
The kid was a fast learner – in a scary sort of way. "What do you have in mind?" Chase said, already regretting the question.
"I’ll put up thirty thousand. In exchange, I tag along for a week. Whether I’m here or not, I get forty percent. Way I see it, that's more than fair."
"Are you out of yer fuckin’ mind?" The words flew out of Ian’s mouth before Chase had the chance to block them.
"Only seems right if I’m covering the majority of your costs. You're going to eventually need new dive gear, hookahs and a side scanner. And word has it you trashed your compressor, so your blowers are down. Might have to add an extra ten percent to replace that." The kid had the same high-stake poker smile Chase had seen on the game show network. Their fish was quickly turning into a major asshole, a wheeling and dealing asshole. Still, fifty percent of something was better than nothing. Especially if it meant beating Legend’s crew in a race to the federal courthouse.
Chase slid the throttle into full gear and headed for the harbor. "Meet me at the dive shop tomorrow morning at seven and bring along your checkbook," he called out. "You’re going to need it."
Ian’s head dropped. He hugged his middle like he’d been socked in his gut, not relaxing his arms until they finally entered the harbor. "Can’t believe you’re doin’ this," he huffed under his breath, out of Blaine’s earshot.
"What
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