The Reef

Ray are good for now is pleasure sailing.”
    Experimentally, Matthew ran the pad of his thumb over the teak. It was satin smooth. “We’re going after the Isabella. ”
    Silence sparked like naked wires crossed. Matthew hefted the sanded rail over his shoulder and turned. Buck had a hand on the boat now, braced as he swayed like a man already at sea.
    “The hell you are.”
    “Ray’s decided to go. He found something he wants to show me. As soon as I can get things done here, I’m heading up. Regardless of what Ray’s come up with, I’m going after her. It’s long past time I did.”
    “Are you out of your mind, boy? Do you know what she cost us? Cost me?”
    Matthew set the rail aside for varnishing. “I’ve got a pretty good idea.”
    “You had a treasure, didn’t you? You let her go. You let that bastard VanDyke dance off with it. You lost it for me when I was half dead. Now you think you’re going back and leaving me here to rot?”
    “I’m going. What you do is your business.”
    Panicked, Buck slammed the heel of his hand into Matthew’s chest. “Who’s going to see to what I need here? You go off like this, the money’ll be gone in a month. You owe me, boy. I saved your worthless life. I lost my leg for you. I lost everything for you.”
    The guilt still came, waves of it a strong man could drown in. But this time, Matthew shook his head. He wasn’t going under again. “I’m finished owing you, Buck. Eight years I’ve worked my ass off so you could drink yourself into a coma and make me pay for every breath I took. I’m done. I’m going after something I’d convinced myself I couldn’t have. And I’m going to get her.”
    “They’ll kill you. The Isabella and Angelique’s Curse. And if they don’t, VanDyke will. Then where will I be?”
    “Just where you are now. Standing on two legs. One of them I paid for.”
    He didn’t take the punch this time. Instead he caught Buck’s fist in his hand an inch before it struck his face. Without thinking he shoved back so that Buck stumbled into the stern of the boat.
    “Try that again, and I’ll take you down, old man or not.” Matthew planted his feet, prepared to face-off if Buck lunged again. “In ten days, I’m leaving for Hatteras with LaRue. You can pull yourself together, or you can go fuck yourself. It’s your choice. Now get the hell out. I’ve got work to do.”
    With a shaking hand, Buck wiped his mouth. His phantom leg began to throb, a nasty, grinning ghost that never quite gave up the haunting. Sick at heart, he hurried off to find a bottle.
    Alone, Matthew hefted another section of rail and went to work like a man possessed.

C HAPTER 13
    A S FAR AS Silas VanDyke was concerned, Manzanillo was the only place to spend the first breaths of spring. His cliff house on the western Mexican coast afforded him the most spectacular view of the restless Pacific. There was nothing more relaxing than standing by his wall of windows and watching the waves crash and spew.
    Power never failed to fascinate him.
    As an Aquarian, he considered water his element. He loved the sight of it, the smell of it, the sound of it. Though he traveled extensively for both business and pleasure, he could never be away from his element for long.
    All of his homes had been bought or built near some body of water. His villa in Capri, his plantation in Fiji, his bungalow on Martinique. Even his brownstone in New York afforded him a view of the Hudson. But he had a particular fondness for his hideaway in Mexico.
    Not that this particular trip was one of leisure. VanDyke’s work ethic was as disciplined as the rest of him. Rewards were earned—and he had earned his. He believed in labor, the exercise of the body as well as the mind. It was true that he had inherited a great deal of his wealth, but he had not whiled away his time or whittled away his resources. No, he had built on them doggedly andshrewdly until he had easily tripled the legacy passed to him.
    He considered himself discreet and dignified. No publicity-seeking Trump, VanDyke pursued his personal and business affairs quietly and with a subtle flare that kept his name out of the press and tabloid news.
    Unless he put them there. Publicity, of the proper type, could shade a business deal and tip the scales when necessary.
    He had never married, though he admired women greatly. Marriage was a contract, and the negating of that contract was too often messy, too often public. Heirs were