Free The Treasure Hunter's Lady by Allison Merritt

ancestral spirits. The second, a longer trip to Norway where they investigated claims of treasure left behind by Norse gods; all false, but interesting research nevertheless. There was something special about sharing those uncertain first few years after her mother's death with her father. He'd never let her believe she wasn't loved. Not until after the Amazon incident.
    Romy broke out in a sweat. She reclined on her pack, stuffed full of camping gear. There wasn't enough room to raise her head from the lumpy pack, so she rummaged blindly for a bladder of water. It sloshed merrily, taunting her.
    “Oh, bother,” she hissed, attempting to roll on her side. Her boots hit the wall of the crate with a solid thump. She froze, afraid one of the crew might have heard. Slow seconds passed by and her fear ebbed away with each one. She thrust her hand into the pack and drew out the bladder.
    The cork stuck.
    “Very amusing. Come out,” she whispered, prying at the stopper. It slipped a fraction. She increased pressure on the short nub of cork, twisting it as she tugged. She underestimated her strength and the cork popped free. Her hand flew up at the lid of the crate. It jumped with a clatter. Startled by the noise, she squeezed the bladder, which overflowed. Water soaked her clothes; half-annoyed and half-surprised, she let out a shriek.
    Heavy footsteps outside the crate made her clutch the nearly empty bladder tighter. The lid was ripped from the crate and a giant stared down at her, a frightful frown on his bearded face.
    ****
    From the sound of it, something more than Abel's head was taking a pounding. The steady, frantic beat vibrated the thin walls of his cabin. He rolled to the edge of the bed, settled his feet on the floor and stumbled to the door. Staring at it blankly for a moment, he realized whoever was making the noise was on the other side.
    Cautious, he opened the door a crack and came eye level with a pin on Van Buren’s lapel. A golden phoenix with copper wings raised in flight and trailing a tail streaked with copper and silver, engraved with the words Fly High, Live Free . The pin glowed in the fading sunlight that colored the hallway. He’d slept all day. Shocked, he almost shut the door in the captain’s face.
    "Abel, open up."
    The captain sounded unhappy. Abel opened the door wider. He was greeted by the sight of Van Buren and a miserable-looking boy in tight, wet, tan britches.
    "We aren’t falling, are we?" The idea of being splattered on the earth below didn’t sit well with him.
    Van Buren’s face was ruddy. "This lad claims you know him. Claims I have no right to shove him off the deck of my airship. What say you?"
    His Dutch accent was pronounced more than usual, a sure sign of his agitation.
    Without sparing much of a glance at the boy, Abel shrugged. It made no never mind to him what Van Buren did to stowaways. "Never saw him in my life, Captain. God’s truth."
    Van Buren swore, gripped the boy’s coat tighter and started to march him away.
    "Wait a minute! Now just wait. There’s no call to be hasty. Abel didn’t get a good look. It’s me, Romy!"
    She fought against the captain’s grip, struggling to hang on to the door frame.
    "For the love of—” He stared at her ashen, dirt-smudged face. How the hell had she found him?
    Van Buren swore again. "You know this kid or not? I’m fixing to dump her over the side and forget about it. I have more important matters to tend to than stowaways."
    He dragged his hand over his face. "I know her. I can’t say I know what she’s doing here, though."
    Van Buren shook her a little. She glared up at him. When she turned her eyes back to Abel, it was with a pleading look.
    "Don’t let him toss me overboard. I can pay for my fare."
    Van Buren growled. "I have no more cabins. And no patience for stowaways."
    It would serve her right, but Abel knew the captain wouldn't do it. Not to a woman anyway. And since she had a tie to him, Van Buren would let it