Danielle Thorne - Turtle Soup

Danielle Thorne

Published by Danielle Thorne atSmashwords

Copyright 2010 Danielle Thorne

ISBN: 978-1-4523-9604-0

Smashwords Edition, License Notes

This ebook is licensed for your enjoymentonly. This ebook may not be re-sold or given away to other people.If you would like to share this book with another person, pleasepurchase an additional copy for each recipient. If you're readingthis book and did not purchase it, or it was not purchased for youruse only, then please return to Smashwords.com and purchase yourown copy. Thank you for respecting the hard work of thisauthor.

The Privateer

By Heart and Compass

Josette

Death Cheater

Cheated

Proper Attire

You can have your cake and eat it, too.Dream big.

Jack Brandon barreled past the senior coupleavoiding their stares. If his flight wasn't delayed, he would missit, and all because of some shuffling old farts. The movingsidewalk carried him across the terminal double time as he fumbledfor his phone.

A woman moving in the opposite directioncaught his attention. She whisked past, hair streaming like a kitetail. Her shoulder bag was a bright aqua that stuck out in thecrowd. He glanced over his shoulder and saw that she had lookedback. For a zinger of a moment they made eye contact then his rideon the moving sidewalk ended as his feet hit solid ground. The restof him tumbled forward and his cell phone spun off in a wild arccoming to rest several feet away in pieces.

"You okay?" Humiliation rolled over him as apair of leather boots, strung up Victorian fashion, nudged hisshoulder. He pulled himself up quickly though she offered a hand.Ignoring her, he moved off for his phone.

"I'm fine."

"You sure?" The girl with the bag knelt andreached for the battery. Her jeans were fitted, her white blousetied at the front. "I hope your phone's okay." She gave a littlelaugh as if she were making fun.

"I drop it all the time."

"You don't look that clumsy." She passed himthe pieces.

People stood around looking sympathetic.Jack felt the red rise on his cheeks. She had to have climbed overthe handrail to get to him so fast. He grabbed his carry-on andstalked off not bothering to smooth down his chinos or thank her.He could feel her eyes on his back as he practically ran to catchthe plane.

The Delta 757 departed Atlanta and was inthe air for over an hour before Jack pulled the seat to the uprightposition. The border of blue ocean came into view. He tried to pushthe mental weeds to the back of his head; the late flight, hischafed knee, the girl. It was early and he had a full day ahead.His cell phone chimed.

"Hello, Jack?" His secretary sounded likeshe'd fallen into a tin can.

"Yes?"

"How's the Caribbean?" She said itcare-a-be-an, like the theme park ride.

"It's wonderful."

"I wish I was there."

"What can I do for you?" Jack tried to keepthe irritation out of his voice.

Trudy clucked her tongue into the receiver."Did you get the fax from Byron?"

"I'm not home yet."

"Get it back as soon as you can," sheadmonished.

"Done."

"And notarized."

"Yes, Trudy," Jack answered with a sigh.

"We should know something by Monday." Thesecretary's voice was filled with expectation.

He agreed. "I'm sure they'll consider us forthe exhibit space."

"It's in the bag, dear."

Unconsciously, Jack shook his head. "This isjust to get into the running."

"Then why am I sending you a list of buyers'agents?"

"Because I don't want to spend my life in ahotel."

"You won't," Trudy declared. "You'll spendsix months in an aquatic wonderland educating the public andpolluting the atmosphere on your commute."

"Beautifully said." Jack kept his voice lowso his fellow passengers wouldn't sense he was on the defensive.But how could he be? Yes, it was an overcrowded, bustling city, butAtlanta had a world class aquarium and the Brandon Sea TurtleFoundation was a part of it. With luck, they would win the bid forthe new exhibit space currently under construction.

"The fax number is in your planner."

"I know."

"Have a lovely trip," Trudy chirped.

He thanked her and shut the phone. She actedas if he was on some kind of vacation, but the truth was he wasgoing home. The next few weeks were for research purposes only.He'd have to return to the mainland soon.

St. Thomas came into view, a leafy mound ofparadise surrounded by light blue water. As they circled around theisland, Jack thought he could see his boat snuggled in the privatemarina of Charlotte-Amalie. The streets were laid out in snakinglines along the port, where cruise ships anchored like giantdominos. He had a house in St. John his mother had left him, but hepreferred sleeping aboard Calliope. When the plane landed,he would make a beeline for the marina. His crew would bewaiting.

****

Twenty-five, twenty, fifteen...Jackslowed until he achieved perfect weightlessness then reached forhis dive computer to count down the five-minute safety stop. Below,his intern, Scott, waved off a wandering remora, the break in hisbubble stream causing Jack to look down. Lost in the green murk,the reef was no longer visible, but Jack was satisfied that theirsubjects were accounted for.

Turtle Cove was his quiet place. A smallrocky cay wreathed by a series of reefs, he monitored it for theturtles that fed there. Sebastian did a casual fly by as if makingsure both men found their way up to the surface. The green seaturtle weighed just over four hundred pounds. He was a mature,strong specimen, the biggest Jack had ever seen. He himself hadharmlessly tagged the hind flipper three years before.

The hum of a motor grazed his awareness andJack froze. Ignoring the Diver Down flag, the intruder raced acrossthe surface, inverted wake zooming impossibly close. Both Jack andScott hit their dump valves to drop quickly out of harm's way, butthe instinctive habit was not necessary. With heads still attached,they shot up the last few feet and ripped down their masks.

"Conner!" Jack screamed. The beefy manaboard Calliope quit shaking his fist long enough to see ifcorpses were bobbing in the turquoise foam. "Did you see that?" heshouted.

Beside him, Scott cried, "Jack, where'sSebastian? I saw him right before they passed over."

Jack heaved himself onto the boat's diveplatform and tore off his buoyancy compensator. Conner followed tothe top deck and the three of them scanned the water beforesurrendering to the logic that the turtle, too, had survived.

"We should go after them," Jack saidangrily. Conner wasn't moved.

"And do what?" his best friend asked.

"Come on!"

"Man, you know I'd love to."

Conner searched the horizon and findingeverything quiet motioned for Scott to start the engine. "We canrun them down and report them, or we can cut out of here and go getsomething to eat."

Diver Down flags were ignored occasionally,but little was ever done about it. "Who was it?" Jack demanded.

"Not sure, but I'll keep an eye out."

Jack leaned over the rail as the indigowater sped past Calliope's bow. His pride seethed, but morefrom Conner's reaction than the ignorant charter boat. He knew he'djumped the gun. Sometimes he reacted like he was still thirty yearsold and invincible, with a beautiful, ambitious fiance besidehim.

They cruised into the marina, and Jackgrabbed his bag. "I've got to fax some forms to Trudy. Where areyou heading?"