by E. M. Moore
Lance peeks around his team, eyes widening slightly when he sees me. “You know what you need to do, Dakota.”
“What I need to do is make sure bullies like you don’t win.”
“You’ll be no good to my son dead.”
“But I won’t have given in,” I reiterate, words slurring now even though my conviction is still strong.
“We’re going to have to take a break,” the leader informs Lance. “Torture is more effective when done in spurts.”
The two behind me let go of my hands, and I slump forward, only I don’t have the strength to keep myself from falling over. I drop all the way to the hard tile, my head bouncing against the cool ceramic.
I close my eyes, conjuring up a picture of Wyatt in his cowboy hat while he rode that beautiful horse. Of Lucas naked in bed with his hands behind his head. Of Stone smirking at me with that cocksure grin. These scenes are when my guys are the most confident. I wrap my fist around the images and squeeze, not wanting to let them go even though darkness threatens.
“I’ll give it to her, she’s strong,” one of them says.
Lance sniffs. “She’ll give in. They always do.”
“We’ll make sure of it,” the leader promises.
I smile to myself because they have no idea who they’re dealing with. They don’t know that it’s been ingrained since childhood that the treasure comes before all else.
This is where that belief is going to come in handy.
“Christ,” Lance snaps, gathering my attention again. A slight vibration sounds in the background. Even with my inexperience, I’m pretty sure it’s a cellphone. “It’s—” He cuts himself off, then answers while walking over to me. He kicks me, and I groan. “Hello, Stone.”
My eyes snap open, a choked sob escaping. He’s alive. God, he’s alive. “Stone!” I call out.
Lance hits me again, and my cry ends in a moan.
“Yes, I have her. I’ve been too busy to answer your phone calls, but I think I have a way you can be useful now.”
“Don’t say anything,” I cry out.
“Shut her up,” Lance snaps.
Mr. Blade Happy comes over to wrap his hand over my mouth. “Bite me and you won’t fucking like it.”
His hands are humongous. Even if I had enough strength to bite him, I’m not sure I could actually grasp on to anything so I just lie there in silence, listening to a one-sided conversation.
“No, we’re not going to give her back,” Lance murmurs as if he’s placating a dog. “Dakota, here, is going to help us.”
“No!” I try to scream but it comes out muffled. Mr. Blade Happy gives me a really? look.
Lance chuckles into the phone. “Yes, she’s being resistant so far, but she doesn’t understand that I have the upper hand.” He pauses for a few seconds. “Have you ever seen her bleed, Stone? It’s kind of crazy how the blood keeps coming and coming. She’s practically taking a bath in her own life force.”
I hear screams through the phone. They’re unintelligible, but I get the gist.
“No, I won’t stop. I’ve had enough of playing games with the two of you. Now that I know you’ve had a map these last couple of months, I’m even more intrigued to push through. Now, now, don’t lie. I know for a fact.”
Lance chuckles lightly. “I would’ve taken you up on that offer if you agreed two weeks ago. You had your opportunity. Don’t you remember me teaching you that? You never offer the same thing twice. Once they refuse the first time, you come at it from a different angle and a lower offer. Just remember that you had your chance, Stone.”
The leader drops to his knees beside me and uses the paper towels to mop up some of the blood, then starts applying more bandages. It’s a matter-of-fact transaction, as if he’s taking money out of an ATM. He’s not doing it to help me, he’s making sure I don’t lose too much blood so they can continue in a little while.
Mr. Blade Happy meets my eyes as Lance talks in the background. “He’s a dick, isn’t he?”
I narrow my gaze at him. I really might fucking bite his hand now if he doesn’t stop acting like we’re friends.
“This is the reality of where we find ourselves,” Lance continues. “She’s refusing to help me find the treasure. Torture doesn’t seem to bother her because she has no value for her own life, apparently, but I know what she does value, Son. I think you know, too.” He pauses, sighing. “It doesn’t matter how many times you ask, I’m not going to let her go. It’s getting trivial now. I’m going to give Dakota one last threat that I know she won’t be able to pass up. Are you listening, Son?”
My heart beats in my chest so hard and so loud I can feel it in my head; I can feel it everywhere, as if the very world stopped turning and is waiting for Lance’s next move. I wait on bated breath to hear his demand, already knowing that I’m going to hate it, but it doesn’t matter. He can do whatever he wants to me. I won’t give in. Stone and Cole, Wyatt and Lucas, they’ll figure out a way to get me out of here. Eventually.
Hopefully before I die.
“You see,” Lance starts, and even in the tease of his voice, he makes me want to vomit. “Dakota mistakenly thinks the only thing she has to gamble with is her own life, but that’s not true.” He moves into view, and I peer up at him from the ground. “If she refuses to help me find the treasure, my team will find you and they will kill you.”
His words knock the breath right out of me. Mr. Blade Happy tugs his hand away from my mouth. “You wouldn’t,” I protest.
Lance takes the phone away from his ear and grins. “Do you really want to bargain with his life? I can already tell you that Stone will make it easy. He’ll try to find you, he wants so much to be someone’s white knight, and in his attempt to rescue you, I’ll kill him. I’ll wipe him from the face of this earth. Then what? You might have the treasure but at what cost?”
“You wouldn’t do that to him,” I choke out.
“I think the question is, would you do that to him?”
My heart squeezes out a cry. Stone yells unintelligibly through the phone again.
Lance ends the call and grins down at me with a confident mile. “That’s what it’s like to hold all the cards. Your friend was right, but you really do have to have everything. Stone would’ve done better to explain to you how business works. You have to be ruthless. You have to go for what you want with no qualms. And most of all, you can’t care. That’s where you went wrong. You have feelings for Stone, and that means I own you now.”
“You won’t hurt him,” I say, using the only angle I think I have left. “He’s your son.”
Lance taps his chin. His hollow eyes alive, and that scares me more than anything. He thinks he has this won now, and I...I agree with him. I won’t let anything happen to Stone. “I don’t know. I wouldn’t count that out, but if I can’t bring myself to hurt my son, you can bet that doesn’t extend to Lucas and Wyatt. I have no problem whatsoever using them as chess pieces. Frankly, death would be welcome in both their lives. Lucas has no one, and no money whatsoever, and Wyatt’s family is as fucked up as they come. Neither of them has what the Jacobs’ have, and that’s why they’re expendable. I’d just as soon be rid of them and their influence on Stone.”
He licks his lips, crouching next to me. “I hope we see eye to eye now, Dakota. You can put an end to this or I’ll put an end to them.” He stands, Stone’s matching cocksure smile on his bastard face. “Next time, make sure you are the smartest person in the room before you go making bold claims.”
At that, he walks away, and the walls close in around me.
We’re so fucked.
28
I wake up under the hot spray of a shower, choking on water, and it’s as if I’m back in the river, fighting for my life. When I open my eyes, though, I’m in a small bathroom, the door slamming behind a retreating form. I relax, only to peer down and find that I’m in the only dry outfit I have. Scrambling out of the shower, I pull out the crumpled note from my father and
toss it on the simple vanity before it gets too wet.
Once the shock wears off, the sting of my injuries pushes to the forefront. The water seeping behind my new bandages make my skin throb, and that’s not to mention the searing pain in my side. I grip the plain countertop in front of me, breathing in through my clenched jaw. However, I’m not about to look a gift horse in the mouth. I undress slowly, tossing my now damp clothes to the floor and careful not to put too much weight on my leg since my fresh wounds protest my every move.
The warm water welcomes me back into the shower like an old friend. Well, an old friend that also likes to backstab. Everywhere I’m not injured, the hot spray feels like heaven. Everywhere I am, it stings like a bitch.
Leaning against the wall, I let the showerhead pressure sandblast the yuck right off me. The knowledge that Stone’s alive mutes the internal outcry of my battered body, and I only think one thing: He’s safe.
I press my cheek to the cool, white tile surrounding the shower. Everything about this house is cookie cutter—like it was flipped by the most boring investor ever. A search of my surroundings turns up no shampoo or conditioner or even soap for that matter, so I hobble under the showerhead and let the spray itself clean the mud from my hair. For several minutes, the water runs brown, then it lightens little by little before I run my fingers through my soaked, curly strands despite the warning tug in my side.
A gruff voice calls out from the other side of the door, “You have two minutes.”
I should’ve realized they were right there; that this wasn’t some charity shower. Everything is planned and scheduled. And now that Lance has me right where he wants me, I can’t deny that I won’t help him. I’ll do anything to keep Stone, Wyatt, and Lucas safe.
A sharp knock sounds on the door. “You’re done.”
I keep rinsing my hair. “You got blood on my pants. Any chance I can get a new set of clothes?”
The guy—I can’t pinpoint which one it is—sighs. When he doesn’t answer immediately, I take his silence as a yes. I finish in the shower, stepping back out gingerly. It feels like I’ve run a marathon, and I’ve barely even moved. Bending for the pants I took off, I breathe through the pain and feel around for the stolen knife. It’s still there. Still hidden, thank God. It may be of no use whatsoever, but it’s the only weapon I have, and I’m going to take it. Finn taught me that—use anything at my disposal.
I tuck the blade in the shower, sliding it all the way to the edge where hopefully it will go unnoticed.
Just as I step out, my current guard comes in. “Ugh, God,” he turns away in disgust. “You’re young enough to be my daughter.”
“How lucky for her to have a father like you,” I deadpan.
He scowls, plopping new clothes on the vanity. “You have thirty seconds to dress.” He slams the door behind him, and I don’t waste time grabbing the knife from the shower and slipping it into the new camo pants. I dress through the pulsing pain, and my head swims. When I’m finished, I catch my reflection in the understated square mirror above the vanity. I’m pale, dark shadows riddling the area beneath my eyes. I also look exactly like them, and it bugs the shit out of me.
The new pants are a little baggier this time, which allow me to actually fasten them over my side. It also helps toward concealing the only weapon I have.
When the door opens again, I’m running my hands through my hair, letting the water soak through the back of my shirt. It’s one of the guys who restrained my hands during the torture. “Follow me,” he demands.
He turns left out of the bathroom, and I already know he’s not taking me back to the main room. The door to the bedroom I was in before is wide open, and he stands to the side, gesturing for me to enter.
I step in, hoping I’ll be alone for a little while and the torture will at least take a break. “We’ll let you know when Lance is ready to see you again.”
I raise my hand and flip him off. He smirks. “If I were you, I’d rest that leg.”
“Does any of this goodwill extend to some pain reliever?”
“I thought you were tougher than that.”
“Fuck off, then,” I snap, moving toward the mattress. I crouch with my leg out straight so I don’t pull at the wet bandages. I hiss through clenched teeth. Every movement I make hurts somewhere. Either the sting of my cuts, the throb in my side, or the general ache of being tossed and turned in a washing machine-like river.
The coils give way as I lie on the lumpy makeshift bed. The door shuts, leaving me to myself. I find the most comfortable spot and stay there, only looking at the window to see if I can figure out what time it is—or at the very least what part of the day. It must be the middle of the night because the shades I ruined earlier are still on the floor, but no light streams into the room.
My mind wanders to Stone and the guys. If he’s alive, Wyatt and Lucas have to be okay, too, right? He was the one in worst shape. They must have dragged him out of the water. I rest my palm over the beating pain in my chest. Anguish washes over me, but I close my eyes and with each breath, I force hope into each pump until it spreads over my limbs in a natural pain reliever, even if it is only in my mind.
I stare at the ceiling, imagining the Wilder treasure map stretching out over its length, the squares and x’s popping up outside the valley like stars in the sky. I breathe easy, knowing I still have it at least in my brain. I could probably draw it out by hand again. It wouldn’t be the same but it would be something. The image fades to the valley between the cliff faces—our destination. The picture is so clear in my mind. I hate that I’ll have to show Jacobs where we’re searching, but I don’t have another choice.
He's going to be irate when I can’t produce the treasure. I already know it. He doesn’t understand a single thing about the search. Yes, we are closer than we were before, but I don’t know how much. We can’t even figure out the squares and x’s.
Agitation quickly overwhelms me even though it’s ludicrous. It took us almost two hundred years to find the first clue, we’re not going to find the next over night.
But if it means saving Wyatt, Stone, and Lucas, I’m going to have to. Jacobs was right. He holds all the cards.
I conjure up the map again. It would’ve been too easy to make a key, wouldn’t it? A little notation in the bottom right corner that said the squares mean this and the x’s mean that. Why show the valley and the squares and x’s? They must go together.
My father’s belief was that the symbols represented certain landmarks or mountain features. If we could figure those out, it would help us find which valley the lantern was buried in.
Maybe I’ve been taking that thought as gospel when I shouldn’t? Stone is the one who figured out that the letters under the lantern were probably inscribed on it. What if I came at this with fresh eyes? Completely throwing out everything I thought we knew?
We’ve now found those same symbols on the map in the valley. The problem? The symbols on the map aren’t in the valley. They’re outside it, scattered across the map like fireflies.
Since they match they have to mean something though.
I keep the image up of the map and overlay the picture of the valley. I gasp and sit up. Searing pain reminds me that’s a terrible fucking idea, so I lie back down, holding my hand over my side. The pulsing reminder of my injuries can’t black out the idea taking shape in my head. I can’t fucking believe it. It might be my mind trying to force a round peg into a square hole, but I think—it’s possible, anyway—that if we stood in the right location and held the map up, the squares and x’s would match where they are on the cliff faces, like it’s a map within a map.
I’m running through the idea in my head when loud voices pique my attention. I sit up only to lie back down again in discomfort, but the noise gets closer and closer. My heart hammers in my chest as I listen through the cheap, thin walls. I hope it’s not my mind playing tricks on me because I think I hear Stone Jacobs, curse words spewing from his mouth.
/> The closed door protests as someone jostles the handle. More insults fly before someone calls out, “Let him pass!”
The barrier between us flies open, and a distraught Stone stands in the entryway.
He’s wearing the same pants he wore to bed when the river came up and washed us away. He has a new t-shirt on, but it’s wrinkled and hanging off his shoulders. The shadows under his eyes lift when he sees me, and he drops to his knees. “Dakota.”
My heart seizes. “What are you doing here? You have to leave,” I plead at the same time I attempt to crawl toward him. I hiss as my body reminds me what a terrible idea that is. He scrambles across the tile and makes me lie back once more. The moment we connect, fire awakens under my skin. Hot tears press against my eyes. “He’s using you against me,” I warn, whimpering.
Stone shushes me lightly like he’s calming a child. He runs his fingers over my hair. “I’m here now. You don’t have to worry.”
Tears track down my cheeks, fracturing my view of him, and I’m instantly angry at myself for screwing up my view of our reunion no matter how mad I am that he’s here.
His father has him pegged for sure. He wants to be the white knight. Lance knew exactly what Stone would do, and I don’t want to admit it, but he did have the upper hand all along.
I hate him.
“Don’t cry,” Stone soothes.
“Wyatt and Lucas?”
“They’re fine,” he promises. “They want me to tell you they love you so damn much. Wyatt cried when we washed up on the side of the bank and you weren’t there.” A tear forms in the corner of Stone’s gray-blue eyes, and he wipes it away. “I’ve never seen him do that before. In all the time he’s lost it about his parents, I never saw him do that.”
I press my lips together. Emotions lap at me like the ocean current. They’re never-ending and overpowering. “You shouldn’t be here,” I reiterate, while at the same time clutching him like a lifeline.
He crushes chapped lips to my forehead, and even though they’re cracked, they feel like heaven. “Don’t worry about anything,” he whispers, mouth moving over my skin. He yanks back like he’s been jolted out of a dream. “Are you okay? How badly are you hurt?” I shake my head and try to pull him closer, but he glares at me and moves away. “Dakota, let me take care of you.”