Hunter spent the entire afternoon in the Nassau library.
Having confirmed the history of the sunken ship and its staggering cargo of gold, he left the library satisfied. He didn't bother taking photos or making copies of the records linking the treasure to the Tyrant, Tillman Thorpe.
There was no need.
The most valuable items on the wreck—the gold dust, the gold and silver coins, the jewelry, and those massive uncut diamonds—held immense intrinsic value. Their worth wouldn't diminish just because he couldn't legally prove they belonged to a 19th-century slaver.
As for the crew's personal items, or even Thorpe's artifacts, they might fetch a few million at auction, but it wasn't worth the hassle of drawing attention to himself. Trying to legitimize them could expose the secret of his massive haul.
The only slight regret Hunter felt was missing out on Tillman Thorpe's signature weapons.
He hadn't found the golden sword, the golden pistol, or the silver powder horn anywhere on the wreck.
He deduced that those specific artifacts must have been what Jared and Bryce found in the original plot of Into the Blue, likely scattered slightly away from the main hold. They probably had them now.
Regardless, Hunter was in a fantastic mood.
He didn't rush back to Paradise Island immediately. Instead, he wandered around downtown Nassau until he found a Chinese restaurant for dinner.
There was a small Chinese immigrant community in the Bahamas, but it wasn't large. The meal was hardly authentic—a heavily localized, Bahamian-style Chinese dinner—but it was passable.
After paying the bill and stepping out of the restaurant, Hunter asked a few locals for directions and headed toward the most famous nightclub in Nassau.
He had been in the Bahamas for over a week now.
And for over a week, he had been entirely celibate.
Knowing his time in the Bahamas was drawing to a close, Hunter decided to let off some steam tonight.
After all, the treasure was secured.
His only remaining objective in the Bahamas was the sexy, sweet-faced Sam.
Jared had dug his own grave by selling her necklace, and Hunter had happily pushed him into the crosshairs of his rival, Bates.
The Zephyr was still at the bottom of the ocean, but the gold was gone. The only "treasure" left for Jared was the crashed cargo plane packed with hundreds of millions of dollars in cartel cocaine.
Jared was out of options. As long as his greed remained intact, he would inevitably choose the drugs, essentially handing Sam over to Hunter on a silver platter.
By the time Hunter arrived at the crowded nightclub, he had changed into a garish floral shirt—the universal uniform of a tourist on vacation.
He had bought the shirt from a souvenir shop on Paradise Island. The material was decent, though the tag predictably read "Made in China."
The shirt fit snugly over his enhanced physique.
Hunter deliberately left the top few buttons undone. Between his chiseled, muscular chest and a face so handsome it transcended racial and aesthetic boundaries, he immediately drew attention.
Several local women and tourists began to orbit him.
While Hunter aspired to be a "Sea King" (a master player), he had standards. The women making eyes at him didn't quite meet his criteria, so he offered polite, charming rejections and made his way to the center of the dance floor.
He let loose.
He had unlocked the [Dancing] skill long ago. Even just casually swaying to the heavy bass, his muscular control and striking appearance made him a magnet.
Soon, a circle of young, attractive women formed around him.
When women decided to be forward, they could be just as aggressive as men.
As Hunter danced, he felt several pairs of hands brushing against his back, lingering on his waist, and tracing his chest.
"Hey handsome, want to dance?"
"You're not from around here, are you? Asian tourist?"
"Hey, are you Japanese?"
"Looking for a wild night?"
The propositions came thick and fast.
One woman in particular was getting handsy. She had patted his rear more than once and was aggressively trying to reach for places she shouldn't.
Just as Hunter turned to see who was being so bold, the woman's hands slid smoothly up his waist.
She wrapped her arms around him, pressing herself close.
A strong wave of expensive perfume hit his nose. A tall, blonde woman with short hair stepped into his line of sight.
She looked up at him with incredibly provocative eyes. It was a look that said exactly what she wanted.
"Hey, handsome," she purred over the music.
"I can't seem to find the bathroom. Would you mind showing me the way?"
Hunter instantly recognized the "handsy" woman as this tall blonde.
He was about to politely decline when the strobe lights swept over her face.
He froze.
"Amanda!"
The woman aggressively hitting on him in the club was none other than Amanda—the girl Bryce (Jared's childhood friend) had brought with him to the Bahamas. In the movie Into the Blue, Amanda was Bryce's new girlfriend, a wild party girl who pushed for them to sell the cocaine.
The refusal died on his lips.
A new, rather devious idea formed in his mind. But he would need her cooperation.
"Of course, beautiful," Hunter smiled, letting his hands settle naturally on her waist.
He leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear, speaking just loud enough for her to hear over the thumping bass.
"But... I don't know where the bathroom is either."
"How about we go find it together?"
A sly, fox-like grin spread across Amanda's face.
She was from New York and practically lived in nightclubs. When she saw the incredibly handsome, muscular Asian tourist, she had approached him looking for the thrill of an exotic fling.
She quickly realized he was just as experienced at this game as she was.
He knows what I want, and I know he knows what I want.
That made things wonderfully simple.
Amanda didn't say another word. She just laughed, took his hand, and laced her fingers through his.
Moving with practiced synchronization, the two of them slipped out of the crowded dance floor.
A moment later, they vanished into the darker, quieter recesses of the club.
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