That didn’t take long. “Locked up.”

She pointed to the cake. “That should buy me a look, don’t you think?”

“I don’t know.” He pulled out a stool from the center table and offered it to her, taking the one next to it. “Haven’t tasted it yet.”

She slowly ran one finger over the icing, gathering a clump on the tip, then lifted it to his mouth with a look of pure sex. “Then have some.”

He took the lick she offered and managed not to make a face. He didn’t like sweets, and he didn’t like pushy women. But he’d play her game, because his job wasn’t quite done here.

“Very good.”

She smiled as if he’d paid her the compliment, and not the cake. “So, I hear you were a Navy SEAL.”

He’d told Kenny, who’d been in the Navy. “Word travels fast.”

“On a boat with a dozen people in each other’s face 24/7? You bet it does. How long have you been diving?”

“A while. How about you?”

“A few years.”

He took a small bite of cake, avoiding the frosting. “What’s your background?” He knew, of course. Dropped out of the University of Miami from a marine biology program, married a boat captain and started diving, divorced him a year later, kept diving.

“I’m a marine biologist.”

And a liar. “Who dives for treasure.”

“Hey, someone around here has to understand the environment. I know, I don’t look like a marine biologist. But you do look like a Navy SEAL.”

“I wasn’t one for very long,” he said, never comfortable with the idea that people thought he had some long and illustrious career as a SEAL. “How’d you get into diving?”

“The way all women get into a lifestyle change.”

“A guy?”

She shrugged. “Of course. But he’s gone.”

“And you’re still diving.”

“It’s an addiction, as you know.” She tapped the tabletop with her nail. “So let me see it. It’s not against the rules for me to look at it.”

He pushed off the stool to unlock the cabinet. “Lot of rules on this boat, aren’t there?”

“When Judd Paxton’s signing the paychecks, we follow the rules.” She came up next to him, letting her body brush his, her smile flirtatious. “Most of them, anyway.”

He opened the steel-encased door and took out the medallion that had spent the afternoon soaking in a vinegar solution and under the ministrations of Charlotte Gorman’s well-trained hands. The coral was gone from the gold, which gleamed, and the jewels were almost perfect.

“Charlotte thinks it needs some more cleaning, but…” He angled it for her to see. “It is a beauty.”

She nodded, her eyes widening appreciatively. “And worth a ton.”

“Have you seen anything like it before?” he asked.

“Nope.” She ran her finger over the crucifix. “Makes you wonder just what we’re searching for here.”

“Doesn’t it, though? What do you think?”

She shrugged, still studying the artifact. “We’re too far out for the 1715 or 1733 fleets, so something independent, probably. Something that didn’t go down in a hurricane, or it would be closer to shore.”

“Any ideas?” he asked, holding her gaze, knowing the eye contact might open her up to talk.

“Not a one. I’m just here for the money.”

He inched away. “I thought it was an addiction.”

“I’m addicted to money.” She laughed, leaning into the space he’d left between them. “Is that something you find unattractive?”

“Not passing opinion on it.” He returned the medallion to the cloth bedding Charlotte had made for it and reached to close the cabinet door, but Alita put her hand in his arm, stopping him.

“You need to see it again?” he asked.

“I just…” She leaned over and let her shoulder press into his arm. “I kind of want a picture of it.”

Another one with pictures? “No can do, sweetheart. That would be against Mr. Paxton’s rules.”

“Screw Mr. Paxton.”

“I suppose you could try that and see if he lets you take pictures.”

She put a hand on his bicep and squeezed. “Is that your price?”

Con spun at the sound of a shuffled foot and a tap that pushed open the entry that he’d left ajar.

Lizzie stood there, a knowing smile on her face. “That didn’t take long.”

For a moment, he just looked at her, a sensation kicking him that was exactly the opposite of what he’d felt five minutes ago when Alita arrived.

“As you know so well,” he said, closing and locking the cabinet door, “things aren’t always what they seem.”

“Well, I seem to be intruding, so see ya later.” She nodded at Alita and turned to leave, but he reached her in two steps, getting hold of her elbow as she stepped into the hall.

“Wait.”

Surprise darkened her amber eyes. “What?”

“How was your excursion?” Dumb question, but he didn’t want her to leave.

She smiled, almost as though she got that, but behind him Alita cleared her throat and Lizzie’s gaze slid past his shoulder.

“We’re just about done,” he said softly.

She flicked a playful finger at his unbuttoned shirt. “I see that.”

“Don’t leave.” He still held her elbow and gave it a squeeze. “I want to talk to you.”

She slipped out of his grip, her gaze skimming his face, stopping at his mouth, then going back to his eyes. “Stop by later.”

“I will.”

“On one condition,” she added. “Bring your phone.” She mouthed the last three words so Alita didn’t hear.

She headed away slow enough that he could watch the sway of her faded jeans, a siren call of a backside he’d already seen in the flesh, and wanted to see more.

He turned his attention to Alita, wondering how quickly he could get rid of her.

She was on his makeshift cot, thumbing through The Odyssey.

“Color me impressed, Constantine.”

“Don’t be.”

She laughed, leaning back on two hands, letting her sizable rack jut forward, a toss of thick black hair completing the come-on.

He reached for Alita’s hand and her eyes sparked, but then she realized he was helping her up from the cot. “And I need to get back to reading.”

“You’re kicking me out.” There was a note of surprise in her voice. She probably didn’t get turned down too often.

“Thanks for the cake.”

She gave his hand a little squeeze and sent a regretful look at the closet where he’d locked the medallion, confirming that she wanted it, or a picture of it, as much or more than she wanted him.

Could she be the traitor?

“Hope you’re just as lucky tomorrow,” she said as she headed out. “Brady said he’ll make strawberry cheesecake.”

“I’ll do my best, but Lizzie found that medallion.”

“Yeah, right.”

“You don’t believe me?”

“Lizzie never finds anything,” she said, stepping out into the hall. “Since we’ve been on this dive, she comes up empty-handed every time. Then she goes down with you and, bam, she brings up the best recovery of the trip so far. You were a sweetheart to let her have credit for it.”

“Maybe I’m good luck.”

Or maybe she wasn’t showing her finds to the crew. Maybe she was slipping them into her weight belt when no one was watching. And then maybe she was contacting someone who secretly met her at night and she handed them off. Maybe he’d better get up to her bunk, now.

“Well, I’d like to dive with you tomorrow,” Alita said. “So I can rub up against some of your luck.”

“That’s up to Dave, I suppose.”

Even after he closed the door, he could hear her footsteps on the stairs. He waited long enough for the sound to disappear, for Alita to go into her bunk, or maybe up to the main deck where some of the crew was watching a movie and eating cake.

He retrieved Lizzie’s phone from the hiding place, then slid it into the pocket of his jeans next to his own.

Locking the entry with a new dead bolt he’d installed, not bothering with shoes, he moved soundlessly up the stairs to the quarters deck, paused to make sure the hall was empty, then took a few long strides to her door.