Guess Mr. Drunkovich wasn’t so wasted he hadn’t seen the two-on-one odds were stacked solidly against him.
“Don’t let the door hit you where the good Lord split you,pendejo,” Romeo snarled at the dude’s back before taking a long slug of beer.
The heavy vein beating in the side of Romeo’s throat told Wolf that Romeo’s blood was up. Well, that and Romeo only slipped into Spanglish when he was super excited or super pissed.
Spiro “Romeo” Delgado had been given his nom de guerre not only because he was known to woo more than his share of the fairer sex, but also because he took chivalry to the next level. Romeo revered woman. Treated them like queens. The quickest way to get on his bad side was to disrespect a lady.
Wolf decided to take Romeo’s mind off the drunk. And if he happened to take his own mind off Chrissy being—he looked at the large black diver’s watch on his wrist—ten minutes late? Well…win/win.
She wouldn’t stand me up, would she?
Chrissy was many things, but flaky wasn’t one of them. Maybe she and Winston were nose-deep in business discussions and she’d lost track of time.
Yeah,he assured himself.That’s got to be it.
“What do you reckon the odds are of us findin’ the treasure buried somewhere on the island?” He picked at the label on his beer with the edge of his thumb. The cold bottle sweated in the humidity of the night, and the drops of condensation had softened the glue beneath the paper.
Romeo shrugged. “Alex’s instincts have proved infallible so far. So I’d say better than fifty-fifty.”
“Lord, I hope so.” Wolf took a swig, enjoying the taste of hops on his tongue. “Caleb needs new basketball shoes. He made the JV team.”
Romeo frowned. “Which one is Caleb again?”
“Roxanne’s oldest. The one who broke his arm last year on the rope swing.”
“The same one who pulled the whoopee cushion prank on his biology teacher?”
“No. That was Eli, Rebecca’s middle boy.” Wolf smiled, remembering how pissed his sister had been while relating that particular tale.
“I can’t keep all your nieces and nephews straight.”
“Tell me about it. And brother, I swear, when someone decides to have kids, they might as well go light a pile of money on fire.”
Romeo lifted a considering brow. “Meaning you plan to remain childless?”
Wolf sighed, but the sound was lost in the noise as The Salty Cod Band started in on their snappy version of “Baby Got Back”and the crowd in Schooner Wharf Bar went wild.
“That would seem like the smart move, wouldn’t it?” he asked when the cheers died down. “But I got the urge to be a father same as the next guy.”
For the last few months, ever since he’d started staring down the barrel of his thirty-fifth birthday, that urge had been growing stronger. And, yeah, okay. His recent brush with death via an Iranian bullet that barely missed his brainpan and netted him a two-week stay in the hospital probably had something to do with it as well.
“Nuh-uh.” Romeo shook his head. “Not the same as this guy.” He hooked a finger toward his chest. “The world is overpopulated enough as it is. I’m not adding to it.”
Wolf studied him. “But what if you meet a woman who wants kids?”
“Settle down and get myself an old lady? Pfft.” Romeo shook his head. “Have you met me?”
Wolf shrugged. “I spent more than a decade watchin’ you work your way through the female population, but I can’t help noticin’ the time you spend on the prowl has gone way,waydown in recent weeks. You reckon that’s got somethin’ to do with our resident marine archeologist?”
“Coincidence.” Romeo waved him off while taking another long draw on his beer.
“Right.” Wolf nodded. “But before you get that on a tattoo, you might want to consider what Albert Einstein said.”
“E equals MC squared?”
“Sure. That and, ‘Coincidence is God’s way of remainin’ anonymous.’”
“Why do you keep busting my balls on this?”
