Death By Sunken Treasure (A Hayden Kent Mystery Book 2) Read Online Free

east the limitless expanse of the Atlantic Ocean rolled in front of me. To the west, well, I’d probably wash up as Mike had. If I was lucky. If I wasn’t, my body would toss in the sea or Florida Bay until there was nothing left of me to find.
    The morbid thought brought me to my senses. This dive had no room for error. No time to be spooked.
    Once again, I checked my gear. Everything was working and in place. I held the line loosely in my hands and continued swimming my pattern. I didn’t know what I was searching for. I hoped something unusual would catch my eye.
    Dana’s voice rang in my ears. Telling me Mike was too good a diver to drown. I didn’t want to tell her that skill doesn’t matter if the sea wants you. What did I really know about the man? Not much. Not as much as I probably should considering how close I was to Dana. Dana, there was no way I could ever thank her enough for all she did for me. The thought of anyone trying to hurt her made me angry. She had a champion as long as I was alive.
    While thoughts crowded my mind, I kept a careful eye on the bottom. A couple of times I spied a black grouper hiding behind a coral rock. Just beyond the farthest reach of my line, another rock stood tall, like a sentinel.
    With a start, I realized it wasn’t a rock. It was part of the remains of a wreck. I dropped the line and swam over for a closer look. Several wood pikes protruded from the sand. Maybe more of the treasure ship. The mouth of something like the circular shape of a cannon covered in coral poked out less than an inch above the sand. A moray eel curled in a void among the timbers, its mouth opening and closing like a drowning victim screaming for help.
    My heart pounded and my ears buzzed. There was a wreck here. No doubt about it. An old wreck, and if no one plundered it in previous generations, that meant treasure. I pulled a ragged breath into my lungs.
    A buzzing noise sounded louder. I gazed around for the source. A cold finger of fear touched me when I realized the sound came from my computer alarm. I focused on my computer. My depth gauge read one hundred and thirty seven feet below the surface. Well outside of my one hundred and thirty safe depth. Worse, I almost exhausted my non-decompression time. My computer showed three minutes before decompression. I’d used almost a full half hour to run my line out.
    My line. I’d dropped my line. Bubbles burst from around my regulator as I giggled aloud. Maybe somebody would drop me a line. I laughed harder.
    In my euphoria, I jerked my head around and spied the rope lying between two formations, one the wreck, the other rock. It took me a few seconds to focus and a few more to decide what to do about the rope. Another burst of bubbles floated in front of my mask. I forced myself to calm down and swam to the line. I needed to retrace my route, rolling the line as I went, remove the auger, secure it, and swim for the surface. Slowly swim for the surface, I corrected myself. I glanced at my computer again. Almost a minute gone. No way could I do all that in two minutes.
    A dull roar vaguely penetrated my consciousness. Giggles overtook me again. Maybe someone was dropping me a line after all. I looked up. The depth prohibited me from seeing the boat. I recognized the sound of a boat motor. The continuous sound meant Cappy must be furious. This time my giggle died on my lips.
    Each stroke of my fins had brought me into shallower water. With sudden clarity, I realized I was suffering from narcosis. The dreaded rapture of the deep. Martini’s law. I struggled to remember how many martinis equated to one fathom. A fathom was six feet. Somehow that fact stuck. So, was it two martinis to one fathom or two fathoms to one martini. Did it matter? Right now, I felt like I was balancing my checkbook after drinking a bottle of wine. The fog in my head could cost me my life. Narcosis can kill a diver. The only real cure was ascending. Not doing mental math that