Or less.
Uncertainty was the only sure thing.
Hunter stared at the filet and salsa next to it for a long minute, his hands resting on each side of the plate.
“Is something wrong with your food?” I asked, around the piece in my mouth. A small bone stabbed my gum, and I picked it out.
He shook his head, lifting the fork. “It looks good.”
We ate without speaking at first, concentrating on picking tiny bones out of the fish (so I didn’t stab the greatest fish, but it was juicy and sweet). Monday and Tuesday sat on the floor at my feet once in a while begging, meowing and pressing their paw into my thigh. Hunter had a rule not to feed them at the table but today felt like a good day to break it. I dropped two large bone-free pieces to each cat.
Hunter cleared his throat. “I’m sorry I wasn’t honest with you.”
Meeting his eyes, I leaned against the chair’s back, crossing my arms. My earlier anger had eased, but I wasn’t ready to forgive him.
“I don’t think there is anything that I haven’t told you about my life, so I’d have really appreciated it if you were honest with me and told me about Tom right away,” I said. “Whatever happened in your life it won’t change how I feel about you.” That was an overstatement. If he murdered someone, I would have to work on my feelings for him. “What happened to the money you owe Tom?”
I held my breath, willing myself not to jump to any conclusions and to keep an open mind. I had known Hunter for only a short time, and I had (needed) to believe he was a good, kind person and that whatever reason he had for that money, it wasn’t selfish or base. Hunter wouldn’t break my heart.
“I suspected Edward wasn’t healthy for some time, but I didn’t know how bad it was. He had no health insurance, but needed a better medical examination and treatment. I suggested he fly to the States anyway and do it as self-paid. Edward had no money, so I paid for his flights there and back, as well as all the medical bills using all the cash I saved up while working with him. Doctors told him he had six to fifteen months.” Hunter looked away, lost in his thoughts, then squeezed his eyes tight, shaking his head. “How do they come up with that number? Six to fifteen. Why not sixteen or fourteen?”
“I’m sorry,” I said in a low voice.
Hunter rubbed the wetness under his eyes. He took a deep breath and let it out slowly, perhaps to gather the courage to say the next words. “Edward wanted to continue to search for the Treasure of Lima as if nothing had changed. We did for nine months. But then he got worse pretty fast, and he was in so much pain. The man raised me as if I was his son. I needed to help him, but I was broke. A few years back, Edward and I had a month-long job in Samoa, where Edward introduced me to Tom and Spencer. And even though I knew it was a risky and bad idea, I went to Tom and asked for a loan. Edward and I flew to Atlanta, where he spent some time in a hospital, and then they moved him to a private hospice, where he died two months later. But at least without pain. I made sure they kept him comfortable. He didn’t know where I got the money from. If Edward knew, he would have made me give it all back.”
My heart squeezed tight at his agony. It was cowardly of me to think Hunter had gambled or wasted that money. The pain of seeing someone you love slowly dying and not being able to do anything to stop it was too familiar to me. I circled the table and looped my arms around Hunter’s shoulders, careful not to bump his damaged hand.
“Where did he think you got the money?” I asked, leaning my face to his shoulder.
Hunter pressed his head to mine. “I told him Jolie helped me to find a nonprofit organization that covered all the costs.”
He moved his arm around, and I climbed on his lap to give him a stronger embrace.
“Is Tom also looking for the Treasure of Lima?” I asked.
“He wasn’t until Edward gambled away the coins he had. Then word reached Tom that maybe the treasure was real and was somewhere in these waters, not off the shore of Costa Rica. Tom wanted to partner with us, but Edward knew better than to do any deals with him.”
Unlacing my hands from Hunter’s neck, I looked into his blue eyes, rimmed with redness. “We must figure out what to do when he returns here.”
“I have a plan that could work,” Hunter said. “Tom most likely will beach in the same spot. We hide and wait for them in the woods. When he and his guys—and I know he won’t come alone—reach the hut, we use that opportunity to go for their dinghy. We steal it and take it to the boat.”
“And what if there is someone on the boat?”
“I will deal with it when we get there.”
I pinned him with a stare. “And what if we are caught stealing their dinghy?”
“Then we come up with Plan B, and I might have an idea for that too.”
ChapterTwenty-Seven
Hunter and I stood on each side of John’s hole, readying to cover it up. Our Plan B was simple (sort of) but risky: take Tom here under false pretense, and he walks into the trap.
“Is he gullible enough to believe we’re taking him to the treasure without a fight?” I said in a low voice. If Tom did arrive while we were here, he wouldn’t know where to find us, but we talked in hushed voices as a precaution. I bent to grab a long, dry palm leaf.
“Yes.” Hunter dragged a large branch to the dugout and laid it over the opening.
We worked on camouflaging the hole, going separate ways to collect more debris, coming together to drop it off, and then repeating the process many times. The space wasn’t huge, but we had to disguise it well to fool Tom and whoever he brought with him.
