God.â
Gabe straightened and backed away. âNext I suppose youâll declare yourself to be on a mission.â
âEvery day is a mission, Captain,â she told him. âIâd rather think that going after the Luna Azul is a leap of faith.â
âMore like a calculated risk,â Gabe said with a skeptical snort. âAt least to your sponsors.â
Suddenly at ease, Jeanne folded her arms across her chest. A gold cross hung from her neck, catching the light through the porthole as though to jump in the face of the cynicism that had riddled Gabeâs thoughts the night before . . . until heâd drunk away the silk of Jeanneâs voice whispering over and over in his mind: We might find more than a ship. All things are possible. Given a choice, heâd have opted for that We are both passionate comment .
âAnd what is this expedition to you, Gabe Avery?â
A smirk pulled at his mouth. âMy redemption, golden girl. But not the kind you and your likes are so fond of. Itâs the redemption of my career as a treasure hunter. Itâs like you saidââhe looked at the cross against her collarboneââa chance like this comes once in a blue moon, and Iâm going to take it all the way to the bank.â
To his surprise, his companion laughed, soothing to the ear and abrasive to the ego. âYou might have more faith than you think, Captain.â
With that, she sidled past, brushing against him in the narrow confines. Why Gabe didnât show the doctor just how wrong she was and wipe that I-know-something-that-you-donât grin from her lips with a kiss was beyond him. Itâs not as if he wasnât tempted, he thought, watching the sway of her retreat and the bounce of her ponytail as she bounded up the companionway to the bridge.
As Gabe reached the galley, Jeanne reappeared in the companionway. âAnd youâre sure you can meet us on the fourteenth of March at Punta Azul?â
Had they discussed a date? Regardless, Gabe nodded. âAye, aye, doc.â
She grinned, an annoyingly happy show of white against a healthy tan. As Gabe moved toward her, Jeanne held up her hand. âNo, no . . . finish your nap. Remy and I can see ourselves off.â
That was the best idea heâd heard all day. Going out into the sunlight again could be the catalyst that blew his head to smithereens. â Hasta marzo, then . â
She wrinkled her nose at him. âUntil March, Captain Avery. Adiós .â
Gabe heard his visitorsâ retreating footsteps and felt the slight dip of the Angel as they disembarked.
March .
A deep growl rumbling in his throat, Gabe grabbed the water glass from the counter and emptied it over his head. At least the pain would be gone by then.
CHAPTER FOUR
Two months later, in mid-March . . .
The jungle on either side of the road from the coastal highway leading to Punta Azul seemed poised to swallow it as Genesisâs rented Chevy Suburban struck another pothole on the unpaved but hard-packed section of the roadâthe largest of many since the turnoff.
âAnd one for the road,â the students in the rear cheered, as the vehicle bounced toward the village coming into view ahead through the jungle-bound tunnel of roadway.
âAnd the end of civilization as we know it,â Remy sighed at the wheel.
âNot quite, Remy. Itâll be like a fun campout in paradise.â Jeanneâs stab at seeing the bright side brought a hint of smile to her mentorâs face.
âEven so,â he said, âI prefer camping out in a suite at a beachfront Hilton.â
âMan, I canât believe weâre here,â Texas A&M senior Stuart Wilson marveled from the rear seat he shared with fellow student Nick Chandos.
âDefinitely beats the midterm blues,â Nick chimed in.
Tall, thin, and gangly, with reddish-blond hair, pale blue eyes, and freckles, Stuart was the opposite in
Learning to Kill: Stories