The Last Treasure Read Online Free PDF

euphoria can take over, how small toasts can lead to drained bottles, shots to tumblers. She just hopes everyone gets along. Emotions can run high on the water—and
under
it.
    An hour later, four more crew members arrive, these men much older than the first group, their skin leathery, their thin lips chapped. Two of them, Chuck and Dennis, Liv knows from their work on the
Bella Donna
. They smell so strongly of diesel when they hug her that Liv wonders if they have bathed in fuel. Whit whisks them inside, where they complain of the traffic and the crappy roads before dropping their gear in the foyer and demanding a bathroom and a beer before any further interaction. By four, the men are all downstairs in thegame room playing pool, and the pristine kitchen has been turned into a mess hall. Bags of potato chips and empty beer and soda cans litter the huge granite island; the Sub-Zero fridge is packed with stacks of meat and bags of shrimp bound for the home’s outdoor grilling station later that night. Liv doesn’t dare ask how much it all cost.
    By five, still no Sam. It would serve her right, Liv thinks as she steps out onto the deck and sinks into one of the Adirondack chairs that line the back of the house, if she pushed so hard to get Sam here only to have him leave them hanging—the very thing he always used to claim Whit did to them, which Whit did, on more than one occasion.
    Maybe this will be Sam’s final chance at tit for tat.
    Or maybe she’s just nervous and paranoid.
    A quartet of pelicans glides across the sky. She watches them descend, smiling at their wobbly landing on the water. The breeze that brushes past her is fragrant with the dry, herby smell of sunbaked dune grass. The water is calm today, at least on the surface, part of the stretch of sea known as the Graveyard of the Atlantic. Liv traveled its length like a highway when she and Sam and Whit ran their treasure-hunting charter.
    Looking out at the water now, she finds it hard not to think of Theodosia or the
Patriot
, but she can’t allow herself to get caught up in the search again. They are here to recover the
Siren
. But God, it’s hard, really, to look at
any
part of this view and not think about those early days, when she and Whit and Sam believed themselves clever enough to find the
Patriot
on their own. When the mystery of Theodosia Burr Alston’s fatehad consumed her—only slightly more than her need to belong to Sam Felder.
    Behind her, through the high wall of windows, the rise and fall of the men’s loud voices draw her out of her memories. She is sure it must just be the excitement of a victorious billiard match, but then the deck door swings open and Whit appears with his hands on his hips.
    He can flash that smile all he wants—she’s still pissed about this ridiculous house.
    She leans back in the chair. “I’m still not speaking to you, you know.”
    He grins. “Fine, don’t speak to me. Just come inside. You’re going to want to see this.”
    â€¢Â Â Â â€¢Â Â Â â€¢
    I n the living room, she finds the crew huddled around Whit’s computer, their voices climbing over one another’s. He shouts for them to move out of the way and plants Liv in front of the screen, his hands heavy on her shoulders. Even before she sees the blurry image of the seafloor, she can feel his pulse thrumming through his palms, and her own heartbeat hastens.
    He’s found something.
    Something
big
.
    â€œWhat does that look like to you?” He points to the lower right corner of the gray image, tapping his finger on the faint edge of a crescent shape that pokes out of the gray bottom.
    She twists to look up at him; his eyes flash knowingly, but he won’t say a word. And she doesn’t want any hints. Identifyingartifacts from scans, figuring out what is treasure and what is just rubble, is one of her favorite parts of the hunt. It
could
be the lip of