Treasured (Masters and Mercenaries #22.5) - Lexi Blake Page 0,65
numbered thirty-two, it’s an old Madonna song. ‘La Isla Bonita.’”
He rolled his eyes. “I suppose that’s what sends them to the island. That’s bullshit. First, Montez hated all pop music, especially American pop, and second, it wouldn’t be so easy. Four by four by two might equal thirty-two, but it’s not a math problem. At least not that easy of one.”
Great treasure waits for the one who sees the possibilities, who finds the door and opens it
The truth of my life revealed to the one who searches for it
It wasn’t great poetry, but then Montez hadn’t been known for creative writing. His political discourse had changed the landscape in some places.
The truth of my life…
The truth of his life hadn’t been back in Buenos Aires. He hadn’t truly become the man he’d wanted to be until he’d come to this island. This was where he’d lived.
“So you don’t think this thing starts on the mainland,” Luis prompted.
The annoyance in his assistant’s tone made him wonder how long he’d been silent. He’d probably been pretty quiet since he’d gotten back from town. He’d danced with Tessa and then they’d sat on the roof and talked a while. He’d told her it was about giving her some cover for walking away without a word, but he’d wanted that time with her. He’d wanted to pretend they were just another couple enjoying a vacation together.
He glanced over to the window seat where Tessa sat, her e-reader in her hands. She hadn’t wanted to go back to their room. She’d walked right in here with him as though she wasn’t going to let him out of her sight.
The light from the lamp made her skin a tawny gold, her ebony hair caressing her shoulders. She was the real treasure.
He had so little time with her, and she’d proven that she could walk away.
Something was playing around in her head, but she wasn’t ready to talk to him about it yet.
“I think this island was everything to Ricardo Montez,” he mused, forcing himself back to the problem at hand. “He had a home in Buenos Aires, but not once did he set up a hunt for Eddie there. It was only here. This was where he lived, where he was happiest.”
“What kind of treasure are we talking about?” Tessa had put her tablet down and swung her legs over so she was facing him. “You’ve mentioned it a couple of times, but I still don’t completely understand it. Is there an X marks the spot? Are you looking for a map?”
“The poem is the map. It’s not exactly literal the way a pirate map would be. There’s definitely no X marks the spot. I don’t think a lot of people understand it.” The treasure urban legend was the least interesting thing about Montez and the only thing most people had heard of. If they’d heard of him at all.
“Oh, I think they understand that an eccentric genius left a bunch of treasure somewhere on this island,” Luis added.
“What kind of treasure are they looking for?” Tessa moved to the table, sinking down on the seat beside his. “Cash could possibly decay or be destroyed if it wasn’t properly protected. It rains a lot here. Did he bury it?”
He’d thought a bit about this. There was tons of speculation. “Montez liked to collect lots of things. Art, items of historical relevance. We know he bought items from a shipwreck off the coast of this island. Gold, silver.”
“Doesn’t he talk about gold in the poem?” Luis asked.
“Yes.” He looked down and found the line. “But not in the way one would think. He talks about gold flowing. Gold flows from the sun and stars but also from my heart.”
“He seems pretty sentimental.” Tessa glanced down at the poem.
“He could be.” From what he could tell Montez had gotten more sentimental in his later years. He’d certainly wanted to spend more time with his son at the very moment when Eddie had been pulling away.
“How did the whole thing start? The legend of the treasure, that is?” Tessa asked. “Did Montez release the poem to the press?”
“Absolutely not. Montez didn’t have a great relationship with the press. He thought they focused too much on selling papers and not enough on truth. The poem was found with the rest of his papers after his death. It was on his desk, so some people believe it was the last thing he worked on,” David explained.