“The assignment is tough, even for a seasoned Bullet Catcher.” She handed him the file. “I need a diver.”

“My time as a SEAL was brief, but I’m certified to dive.”

“And I need a thief.”

He lifted his gaze from the paperwork. “Excuse me?”

“Or someone who would know how to spot one.” When he nodded, she continued. “The Bullet Catcher client is Judd Paxton. Are you familiar with him?”

“Of course. Paxton Treasures is the most successful underwater salvage company in the world. But no one’s diving in November.”

“Yes, actually, someone is. Paxton is running a highly confidential dive about ten miles off the east coast of Florida that isn’t an official salvage effort.”

He frowned. “You mean it’s not leased or claimed with the state?”

“Not yet.”

“So there’s no state rep on board cataloging everything they recover so Florida can suck its twenty percent of the potential bounty? That makes it a lot easier to sell anything recovered for full profit on the black market.”

His knowledge of the inner workings of the salvage industry was another point in his favor, even if it was gleaned from the wrong kind of experience.

“Judd’s not out to cheat the state or anyone out of money,” she assured him. “He has a sponsor who wants to be the exclusive buyer for any treasure recovered on the dive, and that sponsor has insisted that the dive be kept secret, until they can confirm exactly what they’ve found. Evidently it will rock the salvage world, and when word gets out the area will be pounced on by poachers or, worse, pirates.”

He looked intrigued. “What is it?”

“Are you familiar with the legend of the ship called El Falcone?”

“Yes,” he said with a soft laugh. “I’m also familiar with Santa Claus and the Easter Bunny. It’s folklore, Lucy.”

“Well, Mr. Paxton doesn’t happen to agree with you,” she replied. “The folklore of an unregistered ship that carried treasures from Havana to Lisbon would become fact if he is able to prove that’s what he’s found.”

Con sifted through a few pages in the file, obviously unconvinced. “There’s no manifest on record of a ship that wasn’t registered, so this is pure speculation.”

“The entire business of treasure hunting is speculative, but evidently some paperwork does exist, in various bits and pieces, and some of those are in the hands of Mr. Paxton’s sponsor. The dive job is so confidential, I might add, that the crew and divers don’t know what wreck they’re salvaging.”

He flipped the page, read some names. “Then why are they out freezing their backsides off, diving in November?”

“Because Paxton’s paying a fortune. So, they’re abiding by a no cell phone, no Internet access rule while on board. Since several of the Paxton ships were ambushed last season by well-organized thieves, the divers have been told the secrecy is for their safety.”

He nodded. “That makes sense. So what’s the assignment, protection from the potential pirates?”

“Not exactly. The threat, Judd thinks, is closer. They’ve recovered quite a few items already, and some are missing.”

“Oh.” His fingers rested on the diver and crew list. “So there’s a thief on board-one of the crew or divers.”

“It would appear so, but it’s more complex than that,” she said. “In Paxton’s opinion, just as worrisome as someone helping himself to a few gold coins is a leak to the outside world when something more substantive is recovered. There are a few items in particular that are believed to have been on board El Falcone.”

“What are they?”

“A pair of gold scepters topped with matching diamonds, made for the king and queen of Portugal on the occasion of their marriage in 1862. And not just any diamonds-the Bombay Blues, two of the most valuable blue diamonds ever mined in India.”

He smiled, shaking his head. “That tale’s been going around the art world for years. The Bombay Blues don’t exist.”

“Whether or not they exist doesn’t matter. Our job isn’t to find them,” she reminded him. “It’s our job to get on the boat and identify the thief, and if there is a leak, stop it.”

He acknowledged that with a tilt of his head. “Flynn Paxton is the manager of the dive,” he noted. “A relative?”

“Stepson. Evidently they have a contentious relationship and Judd is trying to smooth things out by letting him manage a dive. You’ll go undercover as a new diver, infiltrate the crew, stop whoever has the sticky fingers, and figure out if someone’s getting word to the outside world. No one, not even Flynn, will know your real reason for being there.”

“Does Flynn know about El Falcone?”

“No one does.”

“So Judd doesn’t even trust his own stepson. Interesting.” Con shifted through the file that contained in-depth backgrounds of the six divers, conservator, and crew on board the Gold Digger, then looked up at her. “Anything else?”

“Just check in daily. If you uncover anything or anyone suspicious at all, I want to know immediately. That day, that hour. We’ll strategize together how to handle it.”

“No problem.”

“And remember that you’re not on your own.” She leaned forward, pulling his attention. “Bullet Catchers, even on individual assignments, work as a team. They might not be there with you, but we’re just a phone call away, giving you access to all my resources, my information, my people.”

“Sounds good. When do I start?”

“Immediately. My assistant, Avery, will arrange for you to have a bodyguard’s license to carry concealed, and get you a satellite phone and a laptop, both programmed to access this office with the press of one button or a keystroke. One of the Bullet Catcher jets is ready to take you home so you can pick up whatever you need, then fly you to the port where you’ll be taken out to the Paxton boat.”

She picked up her BlackBerry to check messages, clicking through what came in during the meeting. “Oh, and Con?”

He closed the file. “Don’t tell me. One mistake and I’m out again?”

“And you’ll go straight to the authorities, who I believe are looking for you in three states.”

“Four.” He shot her a smile. “But who’s counting?”

“I am.” She held up one finger, then lowered it to point directly at him. “You get one chance, Con. That’s it. Avoid trouble, stay in constant contact, and do the job exactly as a Bullet Catcher would.”

“And then?”

She tilted her head to the side. “Those four states will never have heard of you, and you can arm wrestle Dan for his job.”

“Tell him to lift weights.” He gave her a cocky wink. “Thanks, Luce.”

She was still looking at the empty doorway after he left, when Jack turned the corner and stepped into her line of vision.

“What are you staring at, Lucinda?” he asked, leaning against the jamb with his arms crossed and his smile aimed at her.

“The man I’m going to marry.” She got up to meet him for an embrace, which was as tender as the kiss he added. “The father of this baby I’m carrying.”

He tilted her chin to look into her eyes. “You’re not going to change your mind, are you?”

She laughed. “Why would you even ask about that?”

“Because this…” He cupped her chin and scrutinized her face. “Is that very rare expression you wear when you’re second-guessing yourself.”

God, he knew her like no other man ever had. “Did you see the man who was just in here?”

“I saw someone leave, but I didn’t talk to him. New client?”

“New hire.”

“Really? You didn’t mention you were hiring someone.”

“I wasn’t sure I would, until the moment I handed him the Paxton file.”

“So you found the diver you wanted.”

“I found the thief I wanted.”

He inched back. “A thief?”

“Reformed. Or so he says. He’s also a former Bullet Catcher, who I let go after some diamonds were missing from a delivery out of South Africa. He was eventually vindicated and cleared, but by the time that happened, he’d pretty much adopted the ‘if you can’t convince them you’re innocent, then be guilty’ mind-set, and went back to doing what he has an amazing gift for doing: taking stuff that doesn’t belong to him.”