even for slip-holders. San Diego and L.A. are full of commercial boating traffic. Mission Bay in San Diego gets all the teenage Jet Skiers and weekend boaters.”
“Lord spare us both,” Jordan groaned. Weekend boaters tended to be inexperienced recreationalists.
“Tell me about it. Ninety-nine percent of boating fatalities are caused by weekend boaters, and they’re usually alcohol-related.”
“What about Dana Point?”
“We’re talking small again, like Oceanside Harbor, but smart. It caters mostly to private padded wallets—strictly the fiberglass-hull set. They get a lot of the San Clemente crowd. Politicians and movie stars,” she explained. “Oceanside is more blue-collar. Plus a cup of chowder in Oceanside is under three dollars. At Dana Point you’ll easily pay more than five and have to wear a shirt and shoes to eat. They charge more for boat fuel, too.”
“Not your style?” Jordan asked.
“The day I have to put on makeup and nylons to eat a cup of chowder is the day I retire.” Aurora shrugged. “Oceanside’s my preference. For a lot of reasons.”
“And it’s your home port?”
“Mostly. I go where the work is. That includes Mexican ports.”
“Which harbor will we operate out of when we’re salvaging the San Rafael?”
“Sorry.” She threw him a quick glance. “You don’t get that information until I’m officially signed up as your partner. Nice try, though.” Aurora deliberately changed the subject. “Where are you staying now?”
“At a hotel. I hadn’t even been there a day before I ended up in the hospital,” he said wryly. “I’m back at the same one.” He mentioned a well-known San Diego hotel near the airport.
“You hate it,” Aurora guessed.
Jordan didn’t reply.
“Stay with me, then,” she offered. “I have plenty of room.”
“If those guys are still after me, that’s not a good idea,” he argued. “I don’t want you involved.”
“But I am involved,” she said. “Anyway, Donna’s got her people watching your back. I suspect she’s doing the same for me. And, Jordan, I wouldn’t have offered my hospitality if I didn’t mean it. Trust me, this will make things easier on Donna, too. Everyone at my slip knows everyone else, and if a stranger shows up—we’ll hear about it.”
“Since you put it that way…thanks. I don’t sleep well on land,” he admitted. “And I could use some help navigating your freeways. I’d planned to do some research on the Castillos and the San Rafael’s payload.”
“Where do you want to go?”
“San Diego de Alcala.”
“Oh, the Old Mission.”
“You know where it is?”
“Everyone does. It’s the first mission ever built in Southern California—and a mandatory field trip for every schoolchild. Beautiful place. If you want, we’ll go together. How about day after tomorrow?”
“Only if you let me buy lunch—partner.”
Aurora grinned. “You’ve got yourself a deal.”
AT DONNA’S SUGGESTION, the three of them sat outside in the bright California sun at one of the local eateries in Seaport Village. While waiting for their seafood and salad to arrive, they nursed their drinks. Donna had a wine spritzer, Aurora more limeade, and Jordan enjoyed his unsugared iced coffee while observing the two women.
He believed in the old adage, You can judge a person by the company he keeps. Or in this case, she. Jordan quickly decided that Donna—outwardly Aurora’s opposite, with her crisp appearance and military manner—also had a keen intelligence.
Aurora’s dive crew won’t be idiots, judging by her taste in friends. That went for Neil Harris, too. He might be a bit proprietary but he was clearly a man of compassion and integrity.
“You two go way back?” he asked, for the women were comfortable completing each other’s sentences. He found brains appealing in any woman, and neither one was hard on the eyes.
The women glanced at him, then at each other. Aurora picked up her drink. Donna merely inclined her head.
“Should I withdraw the question?” Jordan asked.
“No,” Aurora said. “It’s just that, well, it’s ancient history. Donna and I went to school together. We both wanted out of the house at an early age.”
“Rough childhood?”
“Not at all,” Donna said truthfully. “I was the spoiled only child of doting parents. Too spoiled.”
“I was the headstrong daughter of kind, gentle parents,” Aurora said. “But my ex-hippie mom and dad turned out to want a stricter, more regimented life for their kids than they had themselves. Donna and I both wanted to run away to sea at an early age. Donna here managed to restrain herself until after graduating from college—summa cum laude and class valedictorian.”
“That’s ancient history, too,” Donna inserted. “Then it was off to Newport, Rhode Island, for officer training, and a career in the Navy as an intelligence officer…until a few years ago.”
“I didn’t wait so long,” Aurora said. “I grew up swimming, then diving in these waters. I hated school, hated being inside and had very little patience.”
“Especially when she was offered a job with a salvage crew off the coast of Florida,” Donna continued. “The salvage captain heard about her through the beach grapevine. Thought Aurora was at least eighteen.”
Aurora smiled sheepishly. “I wasn’t, but the captain was happily married, her husband was the dive master and her grown children worked the boat. She was the only adult who recognized how serious I was about diving. She offered me a job, I told my parents, and my parents hit the roof.”
“That’s putting it mildly,” Donna said, signaling to the waitress for a refill on her spritzer. “The tears, the arguments—it was a mess. Aurora wanted to go to court to be declared a legal adult, but the salvage job would’ve been filled by then. She had to be on the next plane with the captain, who offered to pay her passage, or lose out.”
“How old were you?” Jordan asked Aurora.
“Sixteen. I’d just finished my sophomore year in high school, but I knew what I wanted—my opportunity of a lifetime. I’d never given my parents names, places or details, so when they refused to listen, I left. They were unable to track me down.”
Silence fell over the table. The seagulls screamed and circled above their empty table, then moved on.
“You parents must have been heartbroken,” Jordan said.
Aurora nodded. “They were. So was Dorian. She’s never forgiven me.”
“Dorian’s
