One Man's Treasure

By Ellie Lynn

Buried treasure lies where ‘X’ marks the spot, and Jolene plans to find it. With the help of one annoying computer geek, she is able to outwit and outmaneuver her former lover through one adventure after another. Little does she know that the geek has romance on his mind, when he finds himself attracted to the feisty brunette.

With tropical storms, pirates and an old nemesis hot on their trail, Jackson proves little by little that he is anything but a nerd, and helps Jo find the greatest treasure of all.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Deslisle Publications
• Release date: Apr 2, 2018
• ISBN: 9781370481712

Ellie Lynn

They always say 'write what you know', so Ellie Lynn started out writing romantic comedy. She's since discovered a love of historical western romances as she channels Gunsmoke and Bonanza, but still writes the occasional contemporary. These days she calls rural Saskatchewan home with her husband, two incredibly spoiled dogs and Horatio the salamander.

Book preview

PROLOGUE

Y ou’ve got yourself a real find here, Miss Caldwell. It’s not very often someone stumbles across an authentic painting of Blackbeard’s famous pirate ship. The antique dealer practically salivated over the old painting as he turned it over to examine its’ backing.

I knew if I went to enough estate sales, I’d eventually find something worth keeping. Jolene Caldwell pushed her sandy brown hair out of her face and smiled eagerly. "The Queen Anne’s Revenge has such an awesome history behind it. I get shivers just thinking about all the pirates and battles she must have seen. I spend so much time finding stuff for other people that it’s pretty cool to get something for myself for a change."

Wallace Cavanaugh took off his reading glasses and gave her a studious look. It must be difficult turning over the treasures to someone else.

Not really, she said. I’m hired to recover those items; therefore they aren’t mine to begin with. I’m satisfied that for a short time, I can hold a little bit of history, or whatever it is I am sent to retrieve.

I wouldn’t be able to part with things as easily as you do.

Neither could my old partner, but it’s all in how you look at it. If, right off the bat, you keep in mind that you’re working for someone, then it isn’t that difficult. She shrugged. It’s not my stuff.

He turned the painting over and nodded. But this is definitely yours. What would you like to do with it now that it’s been authenticated? I’d recommend a good cleaning and perhaps a refurbishing of this frame.

Cleaning is good. The frame has got to go. It is the ugliest thing I’ve ever seen!

The old man looked up from the artwork with a raised eyebrow. Surely you’d want to keep the original frame?

Are you testing me again, Wallace? The brunette grinned and a twinkle crept into her golden brown eyes. "I’m no expert, but I doubt it’s the original frame. It screams of Victorian England, and that was a hundred years after Blackbeard roamed the Caribbean."

You really know your history. He smiled.

You taught me well, Jolene grinned. And I know about Blackbeard.

You’ve been bringing me trinkets for three years. I’ve been hopeful that something would rub off on you. The portly man wiped his glasses on the edge of his lab coat and returned them to the bridge of his nose. And I’ve been wondering when you’d finally decide to keep one of your treasures.

Only when it was mine to keep, Wallace.

And Blackbeard? He wrinkled his nose. What do you know of that nasty scoundrel?

Only that he was one of the fiercest pirates to roam the Caribbean. Stories of the treasure he left behind have turned into legends of amazing proportions. Some say there will be a king’s ransom in gold, some say it isn’t anything but a bedtime story. I’m voting for treasure.

He nodded and pushed a hand through his thinning hair. Well then, let’s remove this frame and see what kind of shape the canvas is in, shall we?

Wallace turned the painting over a few more times, careful not to touch the painted surface of the piece while he eyed the tacks holding the frame to the backing. He donned a fresh pair of cotton gloves and then cut a piece of cardboard the size of the painting. To protect the old canvas, he laid the cardboard over the painting and placed it face down on his work table. Carefully, he used a small awl to work at the edge of a loose corner. One by one he removed the tacks holding the frame to the backing, his face flushed from the strain of the tedious work. As a thin sheen of perspiration broke out on his forehead, he carefully peeled away the backing.

Something small and yellow dropped to the floor, catching Wallace’s attention. What’s this? he bent down to eye a folded scrap of cloth.

He reached tentatively toward the object, but pulled back his hand. He lowered himself to his knees and sniffed. He drew closer, and then examined the cloth from all sides before he decided to take action and retrieve it.

Jolene put the big frame aside and peered quizzically at the unexpected object. Her brown eyes glistened with curiosity and her nose twitched with anticipation. Where did that come from?

It fell out of the frame. He carried it to his worktable and pulled off his gloves and then replaced them with a fresh pair. He looked up expectantly. May I do the honors?

Flecks of gold sparkled in the depths of Jolene’s eyes. Oh please do! She leaned folded arms on the workbench and held her breath as the folds of old fabric were slowly opened.

Oh my God, she breathed. Is that what I think it is?

ONE

The dark clad figure moved stealthily through the dimly lit apartment. He carefully side-stepped the cushion left haphazardly in the middle of the floor, and almost bumped a lamp that sat too close to the edge of a coffee table. He chuckled. The lamp was too obvious. She loved setting little traps to see if he had been in her apartment. She’d know immediately if he’d been here, if anything was even a hair out of place. It was Jo’s little ‘alert system’, although why she didn’t install a real security system was beyond him. Too stubborn to admit she needed one to keep him out, he guessed. The truth was, she didn’t have anything worth stealing so there was no need for complex security systems. Well, except for the map he’d heard about through his grapevine of informants. Jo was good, but he was better. After all, everything she knew she’d learned from him.

He strode across the room, his eyes vigilant for anything else that could be a security marker, to the small writing desk in the far corner of the living room, and opened the pencil drawer. Sure enough, there it was. She was so predictable.

He started to remove the cloth map but stopped in mid-movement. One long strand of brunette hair lay curled across it. He grinned again and carefully picked off the hair, leaving it on a corner of the desk while he went about the rest of his business. He removed the map, opened the folds and chuckled aloud. Son-of-a-gun! She really did find a treasure map! He placed it print side up on the desk and produced a small camera from his jacket pocket. After snapping a few pictures, he refolded the map and returned it to the drawer, careful to leave it exactly as he’d found it. He even replaced the long brunette strand of hair.

Hunter smiled. Revenge would never taste sweeter than when he whisked her treasure away, right under her nose, just as she’d done to him. He hadn’t forgotten that moment almost a year ago when she all put ripped that hunk of emerald out of his hand and turned her back on him. Since their partnership broke up, time had done nothing to ease the bitter taste in his mouth. Another lover he could find, an astute adventurer was not as easy to replace.

A magazine left open to the classifieds caught his attention. Circled in bold blue ink was an ad for a marine biologist guide. Apparently Jo was in the market for a coral reef expert. That certainly narrowed his search parameters. He had a map of an island. Now he only had to figure out which one had enough dangerous coral that she would be wary of navigating through without some assistance. That type of thing had always been his area of expertise and he highly doubted her ability to keep from grounding her boat. She was better in the people department; sweet talking government officials and getting information from sources who would rather not talk.

He always did the hard stuff.

He tucked the camera into his pocket. Candy from a baby. This was going to be too easy.

JO FLIPPED ON THE LIGHT switch, juggling her grocery bag and back pack. Kicking the door shut, she was halfway to her kitchen table when she paused in mid-stride. Something was wrong. She dropped her things on the table and retraced her steps to the front door.

She was right. The afghan on the floor was slightly askew of where she left it. Only slightly though. A corner kicked up by a careless foot on his way out of the apartment. Her eyes scanned the living room.

The lamp was undisturbed. It was intended to be obvious because the doily underneath the lamp wasn’t quite so blatant. Someone had brushed too close to that doily since the thin film of dust that should have been covering the lace wasn’t.

Her eyes narrowed. The TV was where it should be. The stereo was in plain view, as was the DVD player. There was only one person who would break in and steal nothing of value.

Hunter!

Nothing of value? Jo’s stomach knotted. Her eyes swept the room and went straight to her desk. The map! Hunter couldn’t have learned about it so soon, could he? She hastened across the room, stepping on the afghan and banging her knee on the coffee table on the way.

The pencil wasn’t right. She bit the inside of her lip. She was certain she’d left it so that the tip touched the edge of her letter-writing kit. Now it wasn’t touching at all. Oh Lord, the map was gone. Her fingers moved to the drawer handle. She swallowed hard, held her breath, and then pulled on the handle.

She let out a long sigh of relief. It was there, with the long strand of brown hair curling across the map, right where she’d left it. That didn’t explain the sprung traps though. He’d been here. If Hunter didn’t know what the map was, it was only a matter of time before his network of thieves and spies honed in on her scent. They were like rabid dogs and Hunter was the worst of the lot.

Her eyes softened. She didn’t really hate Hunter. Their relationship had always been stormy because he was arrogant as hell, but he was also gentle and loving. It had crushed her to walk away from him, but she couldn’t stay knowing they would always be at odds over simple things, like values.

She blew out a breath. Values were simple? Well, they should be. Black and white, with no middle ground so she always knew where she stood with her partner. She would never have that luxury with Hunter.

Jo shook her head and focused her attention on the treasure map. It wasn’t safe here. She pulled it from the drawer and decided to take it with her to the boat.

JO LEANED OVER THE map table in her quarters and ran her fingers over the protective glass covering the antique treasure map. She felt better about keeping it with her than leaving it unattended at her apartment. This way she could be sure Hunter didn’t get his thieving fingers on her property. She still wasn’t sure if it was too late, but at least it was here and safe.

As for the map, better to place the three hundred year old cloth under glass and work off of a photocopy then risk ruining the real thing, she thought as she folded the copy and tucked it into her pocket. But that glass-covered map was still the coolest thing she’d ever seen.

A rap on her door drew her attention away from the old map and the treasures it promised. A large, balding man in a puke-green plaid lumberjack shirt opened the door and poked his head inside. The man ye be waiting for is comin’ up the dock.

Jolene grinned at the thick Irish brogue. "Kelly, you aren’t that Irish. Must you fake the accent all the time?"

Faith and begorrah, you doubt my heritage? Whatever is the world coming to?

Up until a week ago you were a Texas redneck. This adoption thing has messed with your mind. They should never have told you the truth.

He shrugged his big shoulders. Twas bound to come out sometime, me darlin’. Sooner or later I would have asked why they called me something as incredibly Irish as Kelly. Now will you be seeing to the man or will I?

She laughed and motioned the burly man away. Get your redneck Irish ass out there and escort him to the Ready Room. I’ll be there in a minute.

Yes boss, he said, and closed the door behind him.

Jo returned her attention to the map. There wasn’t much in the way of distinguishing features that pointed to the island’s location, but she was confident this guide could assist. He was