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Hollis bit the inside of her cheek. For all she knew, Dylan stole her files. The less she told him, the better. “It doesn’t matter. The point is, they trashed my house. I’m just glad I wasn’t there when it happened.”
“Me, too,” he said.
The concern in his voice made Hollis pause.
Dylan’s gaze moved over her again and he frowned. “You look too thin. When’s the last time you ate?”
Hollis shrugged. “I don’t know. I’ve been busy.”
“I’m gonna make you a sandwich. And, while you’re eating, I want you to tell me everything.” He headed toward the kitchenette.
The dog followed Dylan, but kept an eye on Hollis as she wandered through the main room, eyeing all the pictures of famous jazz musicians. Most of the framed photos were signed. At the counter, Dylan stacked some ham, cheese and lettuce between bread. He tossed Fisher a piece of ham.
“I didn’t know you liked jazz,” she said.
As he carried the plate over, a boyish smile lit his face. “More like obsessed with it. One day, I want to open my own club down in New Orleans.”
“Really?” This new information surprised her and she studied his chiseled profile a moment too long. God, he was attractive.
“My Dad taught me two things before he left and one was a love for jazz.”
“What was the other?”
“The con,” he admitted.
“I should’ve known.” A photo on the wall snagged her attention and she leaned in to get a better look.
It was a picture of Dylan and her father.
Shock ran through Hollis. “My Dad...” She ran a finger along the edge of the frame, the backs of her eyes suddenly burning.
“That was taken after a conference where he’d spoken.” Hollis turned questioning eyes on Dylan. “I told you. I always admired your Dad.” He set the plate down and pulled her chair out.
Hollis sat, eyeing him strangely. “When did you become such a gentleman?”
“There’s a lot you don’t know about me.” As he sat down across from her, she reached for half the sandwich, plucked the ham slice out, tossed it to Fisher and took a bite. For a long moment, she chewed thoughtfully. And, Fisher, her new best friend, stayed pressed to her side, waiting for another snack.
“You don’t like ham?” he asked.
“I’m a vegetarian,” she said, and gave him a crooked smile of her own. “Guess there’s some things you don’t know about me, too.” She reached down and petted the shepherd.
“Touché.” He waited as she took another bite, seeming to consider what to say next.
“What’s his name?” she asked, scratching behind his ear.
“Fisher.”
“As in Mel Fisher?” she asked with a smile. The legendary treasure hunter had found the Spanish galleonNuestra Señora de Atocha.He salvaged half her cargo which had been worth around $450 million and the cache included 40 tons of gold and silver, coins, artifacts and Columbian emeralds.
“Who else?” Dylan asked and smirked.
Hollis swallowed and studied him carefully. “Before I tell you anything, I want to know how you knew I needed help finding the 13th ship.”
“Your Dad.”
Her eyes widened and he got up, disappeared into the bedroom for a moment and then returned with an envelope. He laid it in front of her. “Dylan” was written in Chaz’s handwriting on the front. Furrowing her brow, Hollis lifted the flap and slid a card out.
“Dylan-,” she read, “Hollis and the 13th ship await...Make it an adventure, Chaz.” She shook her head as though trying to clear it. It looked exactly like her letter. “When did you get this?”
