Read The Last Treasure for Free Online Page B

“I was hoping we could all break bread together. Maybe even drag some wood down to the beach and get a fire going, for old times’ sake.”
    â€œI’m pretty sure they’d fine us now,” Sam says, looking at Liv. “See you all bright and early.” He raises his mug to her before setting it down. “Thanks for the coffee.”
    She nods, feeling traitorous and not even sure why, when Sam excuses himself with a short wave.
    She can feel Whit’s eyes trying to catch hers as she takes Sam’s mug to the double sink and rinses it.
    He comes behind her. “Told you he’s not over it.”
    â€œI think it went fine,” she says, more defensively than she intended.
    Whit smiles against her ear. “Liar.” He kisses her neck and disappears out the slider. She watches him reunite with the men at the grill, letting the tangle of emotions pass through her. It’s just the first night, she tells herself. The first time the three of them have been in the same room together after so many years. Of course it’s awkward. Things will surely improve in the days ahead. They’ll find their way to friendship.They had once before, hadn’t they? Three strangers with nothing in common but a passion for treasure and the mysteries of the sea.
    Even though it seems another lifetime to her now, they came together once upon a time.

3
    GREENVILLE, NORTH CAROLINA
    Thirteen years earlier
    L iv fell into her seat in the fourth row and tried to catch her breath, just grateful she’d arrived before they’d closed the auditorium’s double doors. Above the stage, the screen glowed with the title slide:
The Hunt for the Patriot—Separating Mystery from Myth
. Of all the lectures to be late to! It hadn’t helped, of course, that her father had followed her around the house with reports of flash floods and thunderstorm warnings, pleading with her to stay home. She hugged her bag against her chest, hoping to quiet her thundering heart. Her hair, she suspected, was a lost cause—its once-tight knot sagging at the base of her neck after her run through the rain. She tugged her red waves free and gave them a hard ruffling.
    She saw a few familiar faces in the audience. Dozens of theselectures under her belt, she recognized many of the maritime studies students—and envied every one. What she wouldn’t have given to be registered in the underwater archaeology program. Instead she came to the department’s evening lectures, a landlubbing junior majoring in English lit, and pretended to be one of their kind for two precious hours, cloaked in the darkness of slide presentations, and asking questions during the Q&A sessions as if she were an expert in the field.
    Her gaze landed on a group of three men several seats below hers—but it was the one sitting farthest away whom her eyes fixed on and held, watching him rake his hand absently through his dark hair as he and his comrades bent heads in conversation. She’d seen him a few times when she visited the archives. Finding it quieter than the student union, and far more interesting, Liv spent most of her free hours between classes sequestered in the archive’s tomblike corridors. She’d heard him called Sam. On occasion, he came in with the same two male students who joined him tonight. He had serious brown eyes and a swimmer’s lean body. She hadn’t had this sort of crush since high school.
    The bang of the auditorium doors shook her from her study. She glanced back as the latecomer fell into his seat and sprawled out, propping his feet on the chair in front of him. His mop of dark blond hair was as rumpled as his shirt.
    At least she wasn’t the tardiest one tonight.
    She turned back to face the stage and did a casual tally of attendance. Barely thirty seats filled. Pathetic, considering the presenter. Dr. Harold Warner was a renowned marinearchaeologist here to share his search for