Page 64 of Risky Desires

I’d tried to help Dad overcome his alcoholism many times over the years, but he would never last more than a month before severe guilt over Mom’s death would have me worried that he would end his life. I gave up trying to ‘save’ him years ago. Dad was happier when he had booze in him. And he deserved to be happy.

The sun was still struggling to emerge from the clouds, and an ugly gray hue darkened the sky and ocean around us. The damn weather was mirroring my own gloom.

This was not the morning I had planned.

At least I had something to take my thoughts away from the bullshit swirling through my mind.

I lifted the trap door on the deck that was designed to look like a regular section of the floorboards and stepped onto the metal stairs that led down into the hidden room.

Before I was born, Dad had sacrificed two below-deck cabins to build our secret space. The design had a narrow set of stairs that hugged the left-hand side wall, and when we opened both trap doors, we could lower items into the space using the crane.

Halfway down, I flicked on the dim wall lights located on the front and back walls and descended into the cramped space, greeted by the pungent smells from the ocean-ravaged trinkets and rust. The yellow wall light barely illuminated the space, and I hated that it cast a shadow on the corner cabinet which housed our most precious items.

I doubted Dad would join me down here. This secret room was part of the reason Mom was murdered. Dad would forever blame himself for what those ruthless bastards did.

I understood Dad’s reasons for taking that blame, but at the same time, he could never have known what those two fuckers would do.

My mind cascaded to the bastard who looked like a Viking in my favorite kids’ book that Mom had read to me all the time. He had been like a machine, old and calculating. I could still feel his rough hands around my waist as I’d kicked and screamed and fought against the gaffer tape tying my wrists together before he’d wordlessly thrown me overboard.

Shuddering, I mentally slapped that memory from my mind. Now was not the time for that bullshit.

There was never a time for it. If I allowed my mind to go there, the ‘what if’s’ could suck me down like the Bermuda Triangle.

Dad had placed the items that I’d taken from Chui’s bridge on a shelf on the back wall. He must have moved some items away to make them fit. The secret compartment already housed various items that we’d salvaged from wrecks over the years that we either couldn’t sell or didn’t want to sell.

In the corner, concealed within a tiny silver box that Mom had found on an ancient wreck, we had some antique coins that would fetch a decent amount of money. But those gold coins were more priceless to us than what any cutthroat collector would pay.

I picked up the woman’s dive watch I’d found and pressed the side button, but it didn’t turn on. Although I would love to keep the watch, we needed the money more.

I was surprised to hear Dad shuffling down the stairs. Whenever he was forced to come down here, like last night, he always looked so sick afterward. Like Mom’s ghost had shared the secret space.

I placed my hand on his shoulder. “You don’t have to help.”

Lowering his eyes, he nodded and shuffled to the shelving.

Together, we sorted through the items, examining each one under the dim glow of the lights. As much as I knew it was difficult for him to be here, it was nice to have him working with me.

The Nikon D5 DSLR camera was secured inside Nauticam housing and was a fantastic find. I had dreamed of buying a similar camera once, but it was way beyond my budget.

“Check this out, Dad. We could get five grand for this.”

The expression on Dad’s face nearly ripped my heart out.

“Dad.”

He held up the gold locket Mom had found on the morning she was murdered. “Remember this?”

I nodded as a knot wedged in my throat. Mom had been so excited when she’d found that locket amongst the coral bed that had formed around the ancient wreck we’d discovered.

He swallowed so loudly I heard it and sucked in a shaky breath. “We could sell?—”

“No.” I clenched my jaw. “We’ll work things out, Dad. I promise.”

He clamped his lips as if fighting a wave of emotions and gently placed the locket into the antique silver box. He gave my arm a squeeze. “I need some fresh air.”

“Okay, Dad,” I said, although I was pretty sure his fresh air would also include a shot or six of whiskey.

As Dad climbed the stairs, I shifted the camera to another shelf, where I planned to add everything on my ‘to be sold’ list.