Maroon Rising Read Online Free

captain had on the top of his center console and pulled it up over my face to just below my eyes. I rolled the sleeves of my fishing shirt down and buttoned them at the wrists. The boat owner, a young commercial fisherman, shook his head.
    “Boats are prohibited from approaching the archaeological site, mon. We been warned by the Coast Guard.”
    A fistful of Jamaican dollars changed his mind.
    The sight of Betty covered in salt and brine, her wings swaying uneasily in the chop, caused me to clench my teeth so hard a shrill sensation shot through my back molar and I let up. Men on the boats pointed and waved their arms at us as we approached. More than one held fully or semi-automatic rifles.
    “I don’t know, mister,” the boat captain said.
    “Just pull up to that first boat and I’ll get out.”
    He glanced from me to the boat, a big cabin cruiser that likely held Jack’s offshore office. He looked back to the men with guns now pointed at us.
    “I don’t know—”
    I stood up and he slowed the boat to a crawl.
    “I’m here to see the representative from the Jamaican National Heritage Trust and Jack Dodson!” I shouted this twice before Jack emerged from below deck of the fancy fishing boat.
    “Who the hell are you and what do you want?” Jack’s shout carried across the water.
    I pulled the sun mask off my face. His face twisted into a grimace that matched mine. He waved his arm, and the men with the guns lowered them slightly. The captain sped up until we were close enough for me to grab hold of a rubber dock bumper, and then the railing.
    “Just wait a hundred yards over there,” I said. “This won’t take long.”
    I climbed from the side of the fishing boat onto the side of Jack’s boat, then over the railing onto the deck of what I recognized as an old custom-built Merritt fishing boat. My feet landed flat on the deck and Jack’s men started for me—
    “Leave him be,” Jack said.
    He squared off to face me. My heart thudded in my chest.
    “You fucking bastard—you shot at me, nearly killed me!” My jaw quivered with anger, but I tried to control my breathing. I had a purpose here. “Where’s your observer? I’m going to file a formal complaint and demand this site be shut down!”
    I shoved Jack hard. He took a step back but remained steady.
    “Our observer’s underwater on the dive site, he didn’t see or hear anything.” Jack’s lips were taut. “And I didn’t shoot you, Buck. One of Gunner’s men did. As bad as the blood between you and me is, it’s all I can do to keep him from killing you, but I manage.” He paused. “And what’s with the mask? These men thought you were trying to rob us—”
    “Recent skin cancer, asshole—”
    “Fuck you, Reilly!” Gunner’s voice, from several boats away. “I warned you to stay away from our site!”
    I spun around to see him holding his gun up. It was an M4A1 assault rifle in desert camo, no doubt a souvenir from his days as a mercenary in the Middle East.
    “You can’t keep me out of Jamaica,” I said. “But don’t worry, I have no use for antique brewery vats!”
    His eyes cut to slits and he lowered the assault weapon toward us.
    “Gunner!” Jack said. “Don’t point that thing over here. Simmer down, go diving!”
    The fifty-foot distance between Gunner and me was so charged, I’m not sure I didn’t feel a shock when he stabbed his forefinger at me.
    “Last warning, Reilly! Authority or not, nobody will stop me next time.” He shoved the gun into the arms of one of his goons and disappeared into the cuddy-cabin of the small cruiser.
    “What’s all the ruckus?” A woman’s voice turned the blood in my veins to ice.
    I spun around to see—no.
    NO!
    “Buck?” she said.
    Her clear blue eyes shot from me to Jack, then she stepped forward out of the air-conditioned salon. She wore a silk blouse and short shorts that showed off her long, lithe, tanned legs. Her ash-blond hair fell across her face. She brushed