“What the hell are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about the local guy who killed Jake and beat me to hell. He’s here, Deke. He’s back at the lagoon. And he’s got more friends and they’re looking for the gold.”
Lynch leaned against the base of a tree. “You sure it’s him?”
“Positive.”
Lynch took a moment to wrap his head around what he was hearing.
Who in the hell does this man think he is? First he takes down some of my most devout followers, and then he goes after the gold for himself? Our gold.
It was like the stranger was rubbing it in his face. Pouring salt in his deep open wounds. It also sent another loud and clear message: that this man and his friends weren’t afraid of Lynch, or any of the Aryan Order’s members for that matter.
Well, he will be afraid. Very soon, he will be afraid.
“Keep a sharp eye on these people, Casper,” Lynch ordered. “If they find the gold, call me. I’ll be ready. I’ll be ready with a powerful force, and together we’ll all take back what’s rightfully ours. The Key West Avengers’ mission will be complete. And the Aryan Order will be more powerful than ever before.”
Casper agreed to do as his leader instructed. Feeling reinvigorated, Lynch ended the call and stared off over the swamps.
In the bog beside him, Lynch observed an alligator as it swam stealthily along the shore. When its prey of choice crept close to the bank, the prehistoric predator would jolt from the water in a rapid pounce, snap its powerful jaws, then drag its meal back into the murky water in the blink of an eye. He took a lesson from the vicious reptile. He too would lurk in the shadows, pounce quickly, attack relentlessly, then vanish. An idea came to him, and the inner workings of a plan formed around the idea.
Lynch bobbed his chin.
This local won’t know what hit him.
THIRTY-ONE
Gripping tight to a branch, I held myself in place underwater while scanning the metal detector over the bottom. Forcing the device through the thick grass and into every nook and cranny, I paid close attention to the unlit LED lights. None of them illuminated.
Finishing up the section, I pressed my knees into the sand and rose up just enough to clear the water from my snorkel with a powerful exhalation. With the airway open, I breathed calmly, pushed away from the tangles of branches, and shifted down.
After another fifteen minutes of searching, I rose to my feet to stretch and get my bearings.
Jack was on the skiff, which was tied off fifty yards down the shoreline, and Ange was searching in the water, about to reach my position.
She rose up from the water, peered at me through her mask, then slid it down to rest around her neck. Her hair was tied back, and she was wearing a skintight long-sleeved shirt and blue bikini bottoms. With the water so shallow and warm, we hadn’t bothered with the wetsuits. The refreshing ocean felt good on such a hot day.
“Anything?” she asked.
I shook my head.
“You?”
“No metal. But I spotted a stingray.”
We sloshed back to Jack, who was sitting on the deck with his feet propped up on the console. He’d strapped an umbrella in place for shade and was staring at the charts while humming a song.
He handed us cold refreshments, then marked off the area we’d both just searched. We’d been at it for hours, taking intermittent breaks back at the Calypso throughout the day.
“We’re nearing the edge of the new grid,” he said. “Just under a hundred yards left.”
Ange and I climbed aboard, then toweled off and set our detectors, masks, and snorkels aside. Plopping down in the bow, we both downed our drinks quickly.
Jack set the papers aside, then rose to his feet and stretched. He brushed his curly blond hair from his face, then stretched his neck.
“It’ll be dark soon,” he said, gazing to the west. The sun had already dropped down behind the mangroves. The western sky was a glowing ember that dimmed with every passing second.
After emptying her bottle, Ange let out a breath and wiped her lips. “What do you boys say? Knock out this final stretch, then call it a night?”
Jack laughed. “It’ll take at least another hour. You’ll be swimming around in total darkness by the time we’re done.”
“Good thing I brought these,” Ange said, leaning forward and grabbing two dive flashlights from her backpack.
Despite our lack of success, there were far worse places to spend a day. We had sufficient pure DEET bug spray to keep Florida’s most detested residents at bay, we had a fully stocked cooler, and we had our boats moored nearby whenever we needed some cold air and a bite to eat.
“Nice to see someone’s enthusiasm hasn’t waned,” I said. “But I don’t know, Ange—more of Pete’s catch of the day sounds awful good right about now. Why don’t we get a good night’s sleep, then pick up where we left off here in the morning?”
“I hate to be the party pooper here,” Jack said, “but I think that if this treasure chest were here, we would’ve found it by now.”
“You guys,” Ange said, shaking her head. “Where’s your sense of adventure and excitement? And possibility? Honestly, I had no idea I was surrounded by such pessimists.”
Jack and I both laughed. Though my mouth was watering just thinking about more of the snapper, I guessed another hour wouldn’t hurt.
“All right,” I said, raising my hands in the air in resignation. I’d learned that most times it was futile to argue with Ange. And, over the years, I’d also learned that nine times out of
