Herald

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

“Good morning, folks! It’s a blustery day here in paradise with winds picking up overnight. It’s 6 am and if you’re the bright-eyed and bushy-tailed type who’s up at this hour, you’d better get your trash cans back in the garage. Looks like we’re expecting quite a storm this morning.”

Dane Maddock rolled onto his back, his bedsheets wrapping about his torso like a python as he turned. Extending his hand, he clumsily felt about for the alarm clock, knocking over a half-empty water glass before hitting the snooze button.

His eyes closed to the intrusive light seeping in from between the wooden blinds, and groaned. The news had warned the residents of Key West that a hurricane was heading their way and the fact that he could hear the boat buoys hanging on the exterior wall of his condominium thumping against the slats meant it wasn’t far off. The last thing he wanted to do was face another hurricane. Living in Key West had its benefits to be sure, but five hurricanes in one year was downright exhausting.

Tugging the sheets away, he rose and stretched. His spine cracked in response to the immense effort making him groan. It wasn’t especially hard work keeping in shape, but he had noticed it took more than it used to when he was in his twenties. Not that he could really complain—he was fitter than most men ten years his junior. Still, the fact that aches and pains had begun to sneak up on him had not gone unnoticed. He dropped to his hands and pounded out a few pushups before righting himself and opening the blinds.

The tropical waters had darkened to a deep gray, the tips of the choppy water foamy and white. Palm trees swayed to and fro like drunken fan dancers. Maddock frowned at the foreboding scene. The ocean was not just angry—it was livid. From this vantage point he could just glimpse the marina where Sea Foam was moored. She bobbed up and down, slamming into the sides of the slip and dipping sharply against the violent waves.

“Crap.” Sea Foam had withstood worse, and he was confident she’d weather this storm, but he hated seeing her take a beating.

Maddock actually spent most of his time aboard the eighty-foot motor yacht, traveling the world with his crew of professional marine salvage experts—which sounded a lot better than “treasure hunters”—searching for lost shipwrecks and... well, treasure. It was more a home to him than the condo.

Dressing quickly, he headed out the front door to the third-floor balcony. Heavy wind ruffled his short, blond hair and a spray of sand swatted at his arms and legs, stinging like pinpricks.

“You ever see anything like that?” Tom Benson, his next-door neighbor, stood at the rail, shielding his face with a hand. His hot pink Bermuda shorts flapped against his thighs as if desperately trying to rid themselves of him.

“Not in some time.” Maddock waved, doing his best not to glance at the old man’s bare, fuzzy chest. Tom, a retired Vietnam vet had lived next door almost as long as Maddock could remember—in fact, he’d moved in just a few weeks after Maddock himself—and in all that time, he had never shown the least inclination toward self-consciousness.

Tom rubbed a tattooed arm before pointing out at the ocean. “It’s like someone high up’s pissed off.”

Maddock hated when people ascribed divine motives to natural disasters, even in jest, but he laughed politely. “Either that, or Neptune’s got his toga in a twist.” A palm frond blew toward him and he snatched it out of the air before it could wallop him upside the head. “I’ve got to check on Sea Foam before this stuff really hits the fan.”

“That would be wise.” Tom wiped his forehead free of the stinging sand. “I guess I don’t have to tell a Frogman to be careful down there.”

Frogman was an old school name for members of the Navy’s elite Underwater Demolition Team, which had later transformed into the SEALs—the acronym stood for “sea, air, land,” a reference to the universality of battlefields on which the commandos could fight.

“Former Frog,” Maddock murmured, almost automatically. His time as a SEAL seemed like something from a past life.

Tom threw an intentionally sloppy salute, then headed back inside his condo.

Maddock hurried down the stairs and set off at a sprint for the marina. The place was deserted—apparently he was the only one foolish enough to race the storm. He looked out again at the sea and nearly slipped on slimy seaweed that had been tossed by the waves onto the wooden dock. Teetering like a drunken tightrope walker, he regained his footing and set off again, grateful no one was around to see.

Sea Foam came into view and he muttered a curse. Two of the tiedowns had come loose and the rear of the boat banged against the dock, making the wood creak in agony.

“Oh, come on, Corey!” Maddock shouted. Corey Dean had tied down that side after their last outing. Corey was a computer guy, not a sailor. “I should have checked his work,” Maddock grumbled.

The wind howled about Maddock like an angry animal, the sound drawn out and painful. He secured the first tiedown, kneeling in the chilly water that sloshed across the dock. Time was growing short. He made his way to the second tiedown, racing against the waves rolling in his direction.

He was too slow.

A wave crashed over the side of the dock, sending him tumbling into the narrow space between the slip and Sea Foam. His head banged hard into the side of the boat and dazed, he was engulfed in the frothing sea.

Caught between the dock and the underside of the boat, Maddock frantically swam down to escape being crushed. The current tugged at him, first driving him toward the shore and then hauling him back toward the sea.

This isn’t normal.

The violent storm churned the seabed, sending up great clouds of sand and detritus. Even in this dangerous situation, Maddock could not help but wonder if something of value that had lain undiscovered beneath the sea floor might be uncovered, as so often happened in storms like these. No sooner had this thought crossed his mind than a flash of gold caught his eye. On the seabed, not fifteen feet from the end of the dock, the strange light emanated from the sand. Maddock had often searched the waters around Key West looking for treasure and sometimes he got lucky, but finding gold within a stone’s throw of the marina was positively unbelievable.

Maddock surfaced, fighting for a deep breath of air as the waves threatened to drown him. After spitting a mouthful of salty water, he filled his lungs and once more descended beneath the waves. He hadn’t imagined the light. Twenty feet below him lay the shimmering object, fully exposed and waiting to be recovered.

Kicking his way down, Maddock tried not to question his sanity as he focused on the prize below him. The storm had kicked up the sand making the hazy seawater even more difficult to see through. He hovered just over the object, realizing it was long and thin and most likely gold before extending his hand to retrieve it.

The moment his fingers closed upon the object, a dazzling white light exploded all around him. His hand erupted in pain and he screamed as the fiery wave coursed through his body. Something, probably an eddy from a wave passing overhead, tumbled him backward through the water like a piece of driftwood. He blinked, trying to clear his vision, and looked up, the frightful surface of the water so far away. His lungs ached for air, his vision beginning to cloud.

He thought of Angel, his fiancée.

Her lovely face was the last thing he saw in his mind’s eye as the horrific blackness overwhelmed him.