Treasure Tides Part 6

Turning to look across the water at Fort Sumter, Royce pulled Becki close to his side and tucked her under his arm. "I'm not going there with you Becki, so just stop. I can't share the details of the recovery mission; the owner insists on privacy." Regretfully he continued, "I also can't get involved with you."

Becki immediately stiffened and s.h.i.+fted to pull away from him.

"I can't get involved; no matter how intelligent, s.e.xy, and beautiful you are," Royce pinned her once again with his beautiful eyes, continuing, "not because I don't want to, but because I can't."

Royce still held onto her, cheris.h.i.+ng these few moments, tucking away a memory to pull out on a lonely day. His thoughts drifted to the coin collector, the one found dead in Savannah. He stiffened his resolve and forced himself to say, "There are things you wouldn't understand; things I can't tell you. Unscrupulous people are involved; people who will hurt or kill anyone who gets in their way. I can't risk it, Becki. I can't risk you being in danger because of me and what I do."

"Wow, I guess I just don't appreciate antiques and art near-enough, because I've never seen anything worth killing someone for. In fact, most of what is considered 'art' seems just plain ugly to me."

Royce chuckled. "You have a point there. I do wish things were different, Becki. You are a breath of fresh air. Someone will be very lucky to call you his own."

"By someone, you mean someone other than you," Becki clarified, her arm around his waist, her head tipped looking at him from under long dark lashes. "If that is how you feel, then you need to stop kissing me and stop with all this touchy-feely stuff, because you are sending mixed signals. I know you feel what I feel, or at least something similar, and to think that you can just turn and walk away from it, from me-"

She stood watching emotions play over his face-- waiting for Royce to say something.

"Can you do that Royce? Can you really do that?" she whispered hopefully.

Becki felt her heart breaking as she saw the answer in his eyes.

The moment was shattered by someone calling her name.

"Becki? Hi doll, how goes it?"

Trevor Simmons, cruising by in his Porsche 911 convertible, was just what she needed...a knight in s.h.i.+ning armor. And what a chariot he possessed!

Royce's silence was answer enough. Sliding her arms from where they were still resting around Royce's waist, she stepped quickly toward the car. Pretending her heart wasn't breaking, and pretending she didn't care, she pasted on a smile.

"Hi Trev, give me a ride?" she asked.

"Sure Babe. I'll give you a ride anytime...anywhere." Trevor made a production of raking his eyes up and down her body, leering as if she were all his bad-boy fantasies rolled into one. "It will be my pleasure doll," he a.s.sured her. After casting an I-got-the-girl look at Royce, he turned back to Becki promising, "And yours, I guarantee it."

"Take me away, Trev," Becki whispered, her smile slipping just a little.

He smiled wickedly, "Hop on, I mean in. Let me make your dreams come true doll face."

Becki climbed in, forced a flirty laugh, and said, "I'm just dying for someone to make my dreams come true."

Royce watched as Becki drove away with the other man, leaving him standing alone. Just like you wanted, right? If he were being honest, he felt the separation to the pit of his stomach. It felt like something was being ripped from his soul; an unfamiliar, and somewhat painful sensation.

"Oh s.h.i.+t, Dude, what's she doing with him?" Sean asked as he approached Royce.

"Hmmm? Oh, he's a friend of hers evidently; she needed a ride back to her car," Royce responded, not fully engaged in the conversation. He was busy wis.h.i.+ng his life were different. In that moment, Royce wished to be an ordinary guy, a banker maybe with an ordinary nine-to-five day job. Who was he kidding? That would drive him nuts inside a month.

"I hope not," Sean continued, his tone serious for once, "that's one deadly friend."

"Deadly friend," now that got Royce's attention.

"Speak to me in English Sean; clear, concise sentences, starting now."

Sean knew Royce meant business, which must mean that Royce must be more involved with Becki than he was willing to admit. The kissing episode in the park might have been Sean's first clue, but now Royce was going all "deadly-special-forces" on him. There was definitely something brewing here.

"Do you need a definition of NOW?" Royce thundered.

"Well," Sean quickly responded, "that was one Trevor Simmons Warlock Extraordinaire. He's been on our radar for the past couple of years. He was in Savannah around the time the coin collector turned up dead. Trevor has been keeping less-than-desirable company, as in bloodsuckers. And, his bank account seems to have a steady flow of deposits, large deposits."

Royce felt his heart stop. How did Becki figure in with a warlock who was likely a murderer and kept company with night walkers? What did she know, and why was Trevor interested in her? This changed things, a whole plethora of things. Becki had no idea of the danger she was in. He had to find a way to protect her while keeping her at a distance. He had to be able to think clearly. He could never forgive himself if he let something happen to Becki.

"Pin him," Royce said, referring to a process of tagging an individual so they could track their movements. The process involved scanning a person's aura to capture DNA traces, a technology recently developed by ART. Sean, a geek with too much time on his hands, was somewhat of a genius. The process had just been perfected, and they were beginning to use it more and more.

"I may be able to grab a s.h.i.+mmer, but he wasn't here very long," Sean cautioned as he grabbed a gadget out of his back pocket. Holding a device that closely resembled a cell phone, he began punching b.u.t.tons, walking around in circles, and waiving the phone-like gadget frantically in large circles.

"You have to get it, Sean. We need to find Trevor. I don't know why he's here, but I suspect it has something to do with the coin. I do not want Becki caught in the back-lash of this mess," Royce said. He stopped his pacing long enough to observe, "You look like an idiot doing that, and you're attracting attention."

A family out for a stroll stopped short when they saw Sean waving his arms around. The parents actually crossed to the other side of the street, shepherding their children tightly together and forming a protective wall between them and the "mad man".

Giving them a nod, Royce just smiled.

The mother could be heard instructing the children to "stare straight ahead and don't look at them."

"Tomorrow we'll go to the aquarium, right Mom?" The oldest child asked. "Hopefully, they screen people before they let them in there."

"Sean, wrap it up," Royce said tersely, feeling sweat gather in the small of his back. It was quite warm out even with a slightly stronger breeze than normal.

"I've got nothing, Boss; I'm not picking up even the slightest s.h.i.+mmer of Trevor's aura. I'm sorry," Sean sighed. "We'll have to set a TRAP."

The Techno Residual Aura Procurement device (TRAP) had been developed as a DNA collection mechanism. The advanced technology allowed for nonintrusive collection of DNA by trapping residual aura. The Aura was then decoded and transposed into DNA. The resulting DNA could be fed into Sean's system and used to track or pin-point the subject.

"Where did Becki park? We might be able to snag something there when he drops her off," Sean said, putting the small black gadget back in his pocket.

"Good call," Royce agreed. "Did you have any luck picking up the coin's frequency?"

"No, but Joanna will be here tomorrow. I need her to pull the cloak off if she can. We will need a few seconds with a clear view. If she can't do it alone, she is going to have to call in Tammy."

Royce rolled his eyes, "That's just what I need; both of them breathing down my neck."

"Just wanted to let you know; don't shoot the messenger," Sean returned in an irritatingly chipper way.

Royce hoped Joanna could do what needed to be done. He certainly didn't need Tammy and his father in the mix right now. Joanna got mouthy when she was mad, while Tammy always cried big fat tears that made you feel like a heel, even if you hadn't done anything wrong. And just for the record, he hadn't-- done anything wrong that is. He didn't ask to be zapped, crated up, and dumped in the ocean for two years. But that wouldn't matter to Tammy; she was protective, as fierce as a tiger if someone messed with her cubs. He hoped she would someday realized that he was all grown up and quite able to take care of himself. Although, when he thought about it further, this might not be the best time to make that point.

"Let's get back to the condo. We need to tap into City Surveillance and see if we can find out where Trevor has taken Becki. I should have known something wasn't right. He was spouting off like a silver-tongued devil, feeding her a line of s.h.i.+t a mile long," Royce said, "and she was eating it up."

He muttered the last part under his breath. Sean heard, but wisely pretended that he hadn't.

"Sure thing, Boss; uh-- just so I'm clear, are we tracking Trevor or Becki?"

Royce leveled a look at Sean that would have crumbled a lesser man, "Don't start this s.h.i.+t with me, Sean. I'm warning you, don't start."

Seeing the opening he had been waiting for, he threw caution to the wind, took his life in his own hands, and went for it, "Royce you deserve to be happy," he said quietly. Since Royce didn't come at him swinging, Sean found the courage to continue, "Losing Tara was hard on all of us, man, but, she wouldn't want you to mourn for the rest of your life.

Tara requested the a.s.signment, she accomplished her mission. You and I both know if she hadn't gotten that Tiara out, this world would be an entirely different place. It went down exactly the way she had planned it, Royce.

Tara knew that she could only transport one object at a time. Her telekinetic ability had weakened substantially. She made the call, Royce; she chose to send the Tiara rather than herself. It's the call any of us would have made. Let her go man, and stop blaming yourself. She wouldn't have wanted that."

"I should have known she would take the mission; h.e.l.l, I did know she would take the mission," Royce finally admitted to himself as well as Sean. "We fought about it before I left for Rome; she promised to wait for me. I was only gone three days. She was supposed to wait until I got back so I could go with her."

Royce scrubbed his face with both hands. It was hard to finally face the truth.

"She knew she wouldn't make it, Sean. We all knew going in alone was too risky."

"Look at her other option, Royce," Sean said quietly. "It wasn't much of an option if you ask me."

Tara would always hold a special place in his heart. Her death was hard to handle, but Sean was right. It was time to let her go.

"I know," Royce agreed, his heart still felt the pain of losing his wife, but it was less intense than it had been in the past. "Tara didn't want us to watch her slowly fade away; she was too full of life to accept that fate."

It made no sense. As many advances that had been made in medicine and technology, the cure for cancer kept eluding everyone. Tara's tumor had been discovered during a routine physical. After extensive testing, it had been deemed untreatable. The doctors had advised that she had two years at best before the cancer claimed her. For the better part of a year, Tara had kept her illness a secret from everyone including Royce.

"She loved you, Royce. Respect her sacrifice for what it was. She saved the Tiara," Sean reminded. "h.e.l.l, she saved the world, and died a hero... in her time and in her way. What more could we ask for, any of us?" Sean concluded quietly.

"I wished she had told me the truth sooner, but I guess it wouldn't have made things any easier."

"Her time, her way," Sean reiterated.

"You're right; she got the golden ticket in the end, didn't she? It's hard to let go, but I know it's time." Royce breathed deeply and felt the tension and guilt of the past slip away on the ocean breeze.

"You know she would kick your a.s.s right now," Sean said referring to the fact that Royce had just watched Becki drive away with the enemy.

Royce laughed outright, a big full laugh that had been missing for several years.

"In a heartbeat," Royce agreed. "Maybe I need my a.s.s kicked."

"Um, I think I can help you out with that. Let's go find your girl," Sean clapped Royce on the back and walked ahead with a goofy swagger.

"Don't push it, Jones," Royce growled.

Sean was right. It was time to stop living in the past with regrets and what if's. It was time to start living in today, and enjoying life again.

As he and Sean walked back to Fort Sumter House, he thought about the girl he had just let get away. Let -- h.e.l.l. Pushed was more accurate, he admitted. She was out there riding around with a Warlock who's suspected of murder. And to think he had told himself he was pus.h.i.+ng her away because his life was too dangerous. Go figure.

Royce walked down the oyster sh.e.l.l pathway through the gardens enjoying a new feeling of freedom. Unenc.u.mbered, he absorbed the huge majestic Oak trees, garden rooms, statues, memorials, and even families picnicking in the gra.s.s. He couldn't keep from thinking of the history represented by this park. The many people who pa.s.sed through for pleasure, those who had served during war-time, even the gentleman pirate who was rumored to be hanged from one of these very trees.

Royce realized that time has a way of moving on. He was finally ready to move along with it. Living in the past wasn't living. He would learn from the past and focus on the future.

What a perfect antidote for a s.h.i.+tty day: loud music, wind blowing through your hair, and an unhealthy amount of speed. As Trevor raced down Highway 17, wind blew through Becki's hair and the radio blared. She began to feel the stress, brought on by her latest encounter with Royce, melt away. Trevor had arrived at the exact moment she needed to be rescued. Royce had turned out to be first-cla.s.s alright: a first-cla.s.s jerk, a first-cla.s.s pain in her a.s.s, a first cla.s.s- kisser. Becki leaned her head back against the comfortable leather seat and attempted to push him out of her mind. Royce was obviously not interested, and Becki had plenty of offers anyway. Becki promised herself there would be no more tears wasted on that first-cla.s.s idiot.

She felt as if she had spent the entire day on an unending, emotional roller-coaster. Royce sent mixed signals. She didn't know what to think or feel. He pushed her way, then pulled her close, and then pushed her away again.

For someone who was supposedly in town tracking down art, he acted like he was tracking down state secrets or something. Becki decided that when she got home, she would get on-line and do a little investigating of her own; she loved a good mystery.

"Hey doll, where are you?" Trevor asked, catching her hand across the console. He flashed a wicked grin and took a wild guess, "Imagining all the delightfully wicked ways we could spend the afternoon?"

"Ha," Becki chuckled, "yeah, that's it, you caught me."

He raised her hand to his lips dropping a kiss on her knuckles, "You want to buzz on up the coast and find a nice quiet stretch of beach? We could skinny-dip. You could be my sea nymph."

Becki squeezed his hand and pulled hers away to drag long strands of flying hair out of her eyes.

"Trev, you are crazy," Becki observed laughingly.

"Can't blame a guy for trying," he shrugged.

"Why's a guy like you still single anyway? You've got the whole package: great car, killer smile, charm and good looks."

"Don't stop, princess, keep it coming. I'm all ears," he grinned and pointedly dropped his gaze to his crotch, "well except for--"

Becki reached across to clamp her hand over his mouth, effectively stopping whatever outrageous comment he had planned to make.

"OK," he mumbled from beneath her hand, "too much information."

Becki removed her hand and turned in her seat to face him.

"What is the down side, Trev?" she asked.

"No down side," he bragged, "I'm the perfect male specimen."

"n.o.body's perfect. Tell me something about the great Trevor Simmons that would make me want to run and hide," Becki teased, resting her chin on her hands, elbows propped in the middle of console. Her eyes danced as she pressed him for information. "Tell me all your deep, dark secrets."

Something unreadable flashed across his face, and then it was gone in an instant.

"I'm bad to the bone, doll," he shot back. "No secret about that."

Becki sat back with a sigh, "Trevor, you are no fun."

Flas.h.i.+ng his bad-boy grin, he countered, "Oh, I'm as much fun as you can handle. Let's find some dinner, maybe take a walk on the beach, and if you're really good, I'll take you home and show you my art collection," he finished with a broad wink.

"I've heard enough about art collections today to last a lifetime," Becki said as Trevor watched the sparkle diminish in her eyes.

"Sorry doll, didn't know you had something against art," Trevor apologized.

"Oh, it's not so much the art itself. I'm just in a bad mood."

"p.i.s.sed at the guy you were all wrapped up with back there? Who is he?" he asked suspecting he already knew the answer.

"Oh, just...it doesn't matter. I'm so over it."