by E. M. Moore
I stare straight ahead, searching every last nook and cranny before turning counterclockwise and searching again. I look for a cave; for another etching. I look for a neon fucking arrow—anything that will help us get out of this mess right now. Lance isn’t going to sit around and wait for us to find something. We know he’s being unbelievably arrogant and ridiculous, but he doesn’t understand that. He’s used to commanding a room. He snaps his fingers, something gets done. If only treasure hunting worked the same way.
Sweat dots my brow that has nothing to do with the fact that the sun is high in the sky now. It must be bordering on midday. We would usually stop for lunch, but there’s no time for that. Each passing second is like the ticking of a time bomb. If the crunching of the gravel behind me is any indication, Lance is getting impatient.
“Anything?”
“No,” Stone barks.
I swear those two are going to end up coming to blows before the end of this. Not only because his father is a raging lunatic, but because he obviously had no idea what he was sending Stone off to do every summer. If I think back to when they started at Saint Clary’s, the trajectory all this took makes so much sense. We were destined to dangle off the end of Lance’s rope. He’s not a man used to hearing no, and he’s heard no in regards to the Wilder treasure for too long. He was bound to break at some point.
“Perhaps Dakota needs a reason to work faster?”
I spin where I am. “I’m doing my best,” I affirm, like I’m trying to talk someone off a ledge. “You have to give me some time to think.”
“Find me the treasure!” he bellows.
I lick my lips and try to keep my own temper under control. If not for my sake, then for the sake of Stone, Wyatt, and Lucas. Lance looks like a man who’s losing control—his face is an angry red; he’s sweating; he’s guzzling water like it’s candy…. He’s acting as if he’s two steps away from losing it.
“There’s some shade back there,” I offer. “Why don’t you have a seat?”
“I don’t need shade!” he rages. “What I need is for the millions of dollars I’ve invested in this to finally pay off. Get it fucking done!”
I take a step back. His arrogance is completely insane. He’s been up here for not even a day and he thinks it’s going to fall into his lap. Like the rest of us haven’t been searching and putting in all the hard work for fucking years. It makes me want to stop what we’re doing right now, and I would if I wasn’t scared for our lives.
I take back what I thought about Lance not being scary up in the mountains. If anything, he’s turning crazier up here. He’s losing his sanity.
“Dad....” Stone starts. The look on his face has morphed from irritation to concern. I don’t think it’s as much for his father’s well-being as it is for what his mental state means for our well-being. He has five ex-military personnel at his disposal. If he tells them to kill one of us right now, they will. No questions asked—except for maybe how much he’s willing to pay to get the job done.
The soft tone Stone uses on him starts to work. Lance lets him get closer, and they talk in hushed tones. He’s approached him like a tiger in a cage, and I wonder if it was a horrible idea to insist the elder Jacobs come up here with us. I thought he would see how difficult it is, but I’m not sure he realizes that at all. Powerful men don’t understand how the real world works. They say something, it gets done, but they don’t know the steps it took to make it happen. Like yesterday, when he had his assistant prepare all the equipment we needed for today. All he did was make one phone call, but I bet that girl was up all hours of the night arranging, maybe even shopping herself for the equipment we needed.
Lance doesn’t know a hard day’s work. This might be his first time in years—in fucking decades.
I try to re-focus on searching the area in the same pattern, but Lance and Stone’s voices rise. “No!” Lance shouts as their conversation comes to a head.
I turn in time to find Stone falling to the ground. I move toward him, but the soldiers raise their guns, at least one barrel pointed at each of us, keeping us at bay.
“She needs a reminder,” Lance announces.
“Tahoe,” the leader says.
A gun goes off—the sound so loud it echoes and echoes—and I scream as terror rips through me. For a moment, time doesn’t compute. Sound doesn’t compute. I stare at the scene, blinking and blinking until everything becomes clear again.
Lucas is on the ground. He’s clenching his hip as blood dampens his clothes. I start forward, but a hand yanks me back, and throws me to the rocky ground.
“If you don’t finish this, Lucas dies,” Lance threatens.
I push myself to my elbows to find Lucas digging his heels into the dirt, writhing. I shake my head. Lance has just done the unthinkable.
I rush to my feet, grabbing the knife out of my pocket, and storm Lance. “You bastard!” His eyes widen right before I get tackled.
Another gun goes off, and I nudge the body on top of me. Shouts rise up. Lance screams, “Not the girl!”
“Shh,” Stone urges in my ear. “It’s me. He was going to shoot you.” He pecks me on the cheek, grabs the knife from my hand, and stands. He faces his father, staring him down with the contempt that I know has been building for a long time. “You shot Lucas.”
“I didn’t shoot Lucas.”
“Take responsibility for your actions!” Stone growls. “Isn’t that what you’ve been telling me this whole time?” He points to Lucas’ bleeding form. “He’s looked up to you for most of his life, you selfish fuck.”
Lance holds his hand out. They’re spitting images of one another right now. If ever I was looking for their similarities, I can find it when they both lose their tempers.
“Give the word,” the leader grins, gun aimed right at Stone’s chest. I glance at Lucas to find that Wyatt has taken his shirt off and is holding it over the wound. Lucas is pale as fuck.
This can’t be happening. He won’t survive a wound that severe up here. Helplessness consumes my thoughts, threatening to pull me into its deep shadows. I can’t lose him.
“You’ve killed him,” Stone states simply, and my heart breaks at his words, tears threatening my eyes.
I pull myself up, my body feeling like it’s weighed down by the truth of what’s happening right now. I’m sucking in air around choked sobs because it’s too painful to breath. All I wanted was for us to get out of this alive. I close my eyes. I never wanted the treasure this much. Not enough to sacrifice the people I love. But Lance doesn’t have that type of mentality. Fueled by greed, he knows no other way.
“It isn’t worth this,” Stone chokes out, his hand shaking. He keeps stealing glances of his two friends.
“It has to be.”
Stone shakes his head. “You were a father to him.”
The look on Lance’s face never changes. He’s still incredulous, using strategy to answer his son’s allegations—as if he’s just talking about taking over businesses.
“To think I thought you cared about at least one thing.” He darts his gaze to Lucas again, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down. “I thought you had a shred of humanity left in you.” He brings the knife up.
It happens in a blur.
Gun barrels focus on Stone.
My heart dislodges, and I start to run forward only to be taken down, my head bouncing off a boulder. Bullets rip through the air, and I scream. I close my eyes and scream for everything to stop, as if this is all a bad dream. My imagination conjures up horrible images of Stone and Lucas lying on the mountain floor, pale as death. The pictures rip at the seams of my heart.
I’m too scared to look but I can’t stay hiding forever. I have to help them. I get to my feet, using the boulder for support. I sway on my feet, my head pounding and my ears ringing. My thumb brushes over indents in the gray rock, and I gasp when I come face-to-face with an etching. NEC.
No fucking way.
More bullets and another foreign noise y
ank me out of my shock. Air swirls around us, kicking up dirt and tiny pebbles. It’s so strong hair whips in front of my face, temporarily impeding my view of everything. I curl it back around my ear, and immediately, a body falls to my right. I glance down and find a hole in Bucket Guy’s tan bandana, blood starting to turn the fabric into a muddy brown.
I spin, searching the scene for Wyatt, Lucas, and Stone. One more of Lance’s team is on the ground with fatal injuries. The leader and Mr. Blade Happy still stand with Lance.
Stone’s limp form is crumpled on the ground. I swallow a scream, but I’m immediately distracted when Mr. Blade Happy leaps at me and yanks me against his chest. Raising his gun, he aims it toward a helicopter that finally flies into view. The whoop, whoop, whoop of its blades hover above us. Bullets slice through the side of the chopper. Between the strands of hair flying in my face, I spot men leaning back out of it through a gigantic doorway. Dirt kicks up at my feet as bullets soar past me. I stand stock still until my captor stumbles, nearly dragging me down with him.
I shuck him off, and he lands face up, eyes wide with blood spattering his forehead.
My stomach roils, and I crouch next to the NEC boulder to take stock of what’s going on. Lance has taken off, running down the valley. He trips, falls, and ends up sliding the rest of the way on his ass. To my right, however, the leader returns fire at the chopper, his war cries raising the hair on my arms until he slumps to the ground with a hole in his temple.
I shield my eyes and peer up at the metal beast in the sky. Cole leans forward in the passenger seat wearing a headset, his eyes darting everywhere. I nearly fall over with relief. When he sees me, a relieved smile breaks out over his face. I fall to my knees, running my hands through my hair, my body shaking from head to toe.
A rope is lowered from the huge opening, and an armed man rides it down. He moves toward me, raising his voice as he approaches with his hands up. He’s dressed all in black tactical gear, similar style but different color to Lance’s ex-military men who lie dead on the mountain top. He’s armed with a gun and a tool belt around his waist with God knows what weapons at his disposal. “I’m with Cole,” he calls out.
I nod, and he moves in closer. “My friends,” I yell, my voice breaking. “They’re shot, I think. You need to help them.”
I turn toward Lucas who is still lying where he was. A layer of dirt covers him and another swirls above his head like a sandy tornado. He has his hands over his mouth, and his eyes firmly closed. I point him out, and the guy moves in that direction.
Another man dressed in black uses the rope to descend as I crawl on all fours to Stone. Rocks kick up behind me while I make my way to his side. “Stone, Stone!” I hover my hands over his body, scared to touch him. When he doesn’t answer I glance to the right to find two men helping Lucas to a basket that’s waiting on the rocky ground, tethered to the helicopter by ropes. “Wyatt!” I call out.
My mind races a mile a minute. “Just be safe. Just be safe,” I cry as I turn toward Stone again. My cheeks feel wet, and it’s then that I realize I’m crying. I shake Stone. I run my fingers all over his body and don’t find blood or anything sticky. His dusty clothes aren’t tinged red, but he just won’t move.
I grip his shirt in my hands and bend over him, my forehead dropping to his chest. I squeeze and squeeze, wishing I could pray him alive.
His chest moves under me.
I startle back, searching him all over again. It’s then that I find red seeping out from under his head. “Stone!”
Hands come in from behind me and drag me away. I start to fight back but Wyatt’s reassuring touch makes me pause. My cowboy bends over Stone, hat long gone, and checks the back of his friend’s head. When he pulls his fingers away, blood runs down them.
Another body joins him, and I recognize Cole’s form. He rips his shirt off and wraps it around Stone’s head. He ties it tight and then turns toward the chopper, shouting orders.
The spinning of the helicopter’s blades creates its own kind of chaos. Hair flies in front of my face, and my mouth fills with dirt, making my teeth crunch when I shut my jaw. Cole waves two men over as Lucas gets lifted in the basket. My wild-haired guy makes eye contact with me and fresh tears spill over my cheeks. His head lulls back, hitting the side of the basket, and a howl rips through my chest.
Everything has gone to hell.
A voice calls my name, and I nearly jump. “Dakota!” Wyatt calls again right in front of me.
I spin to find him waving me over. Moving closer, I nearly come apart when Stone’s eyes open. A wail bursts from my mouth, and I lean my forehead on Stone’s chest again, grabbing his clothes in my fists as his hand sinks into my hair. We stay that way until Wyatt tugs me back so that two guys can help Stone to the basket and take him up. Wyatt stands with his arms around me as we watch him ascend.
When he’s safe and sound, I turn toward Cole. Dust covers him from head-to-toe. “You came for me?”
“Baby girl.” He wipes at my eyes, flicking away the fresh tears. “Are you okay?”
I nod, even though it feels like a lie. I may be fine physically, but I’m about to come apart mentally. “Just get them to the hospital. Please,” I beg.
The badass leader of the Dragons pulls me in for a hug, kissing my cheek before turning away. When the basket is sent again, the remaining men are picked up and elevated back into the helicopter. They disappear over the cliff face toward Phoenix, Cole in the passenger seat cockpit once again. His hard face tells me all I need to know. He’ll make sure Stone and Lucas are attended to.
It takes a while for the sound of the blades to fade, and I can’t believe I didn’t hear it approaching. Then again, it was complete chaos down here.
Wyatt grips my hand, surveying the same landscape I am. We overlook the dead bodies at our feet and focus on one thing. “Where did he go?”
I point down the valley. It’s time to end this.
It’s time to make sure Lance can’t hurt anyone again.
33
If he’s not dead already, Lance would have no idea how to get out of here. Hopefully someone shot his ass so Wyatt and I don’t have to inform Stone we killed his father. We can tell him it was just an outcome of a tragic day.
“Dakota!”
Wyatt and I both come to a skidding stop to find Ninja hiking down the valley toward us with Pete by his side. “Holy shit.” I start toward them, my feet picking up the pace until we’re only a few feet apart.
Ninja reaches us first. He wraps an arm around my shoulders, and I squeeze him through the pain. “What the hell are you guys doing here?”
Our trustworthy guard beams. “Do you think I’d miss a chance to get those bastards? When we couldn’t contact you, Cole sent the two of us up here to get into position. I’m the one who took out the mean-looking one.”
“No wonder,” Wyatt exclaims. Dirt stains the side of his face, clear paths of sweat interrupting them. He shakes his head. “They thought the helicopter was their only threat.”
“Exactly,” Ninja says. “We lured them in and then surrounded them.”
“Well, except for one,” I remind them, nodding over my shoulder.
We all start down the chasm again in the direction that Lance ran, Wyatt with a firm arm around my hips. Let’s see how haughty he acts now that his muscle is gone. I know for sure I have the upper hand this time, and I sure as hell will exploit it.
Ninja runs a hand through his hair. “Are Lucas and Stone okay?”
Wyatt peeks at me as if I might break if he answers honestly. “We think so. We don’t know for sure, though.”
I close my eyes for a moment, sending up positive thoughts. “Cole saved us,” I choke out. “If he didn’t come with the helicopter when he did, we all would have died up here.”
Wyatt hugs me to his side. Despite how painful it is, it feels better to know he’s here with me. That he’s right next to me, and no one is going to try to take him away again.
“Cole has a way of doing that,” Ninja muses. “He figured shit would get unstable.”
“Because Stone’s father is a fucking lunatic,” I grind out. I stop in my tracks, a realization hitting me in the chest. Now that we’re not being shot at, the etching I found bubbles to the surface. “I almost forgot. I think I have the next clue.”
Wyatt blinks at me. “What?”
“I found something during...everything.”
Ninja stands up straighter. “That’s all well and good, friends, but why don’t we take care of one problem at a time?” He nods down the valley, and we turn to find Lance crouching next to the creek. It’s a little higher than normal, but at least it’s not a raging river anymore. He’s splashing water on his cheeks. His canteen is gone—probably lost in all the commotion he commanded.
“Jacobs!” I yell, marching toward him with Wyatt’s assitance.
He jumps and turns. He stands on shaky legs, moving backward until he’s knee deep in the creek. “I have money. A lot of it.”
I shake my head. “You’re a pathetic piece of shit.” The first words out of his mouth are about money? He should be demanding to know what happened to his son.
Wyatt strides forward. As soon as he’s close enough, he pulls his arm back and punches Jacobs in the face. Lance tries to block it, but his feeble attempt is laughable. His head snaps around, and blood immediately gushes from his nose. It doesn’t deter Wyatt. He keeps punching, his knuckles bloody, until I say his name softly, asking him to stop.
Lance crumbles to his knees. When he gazes up, his pathetic nature truly stands out above everything else. He blinks, studying all of us before his stare falls on me. “Where’s Stone?”
That’s more fucking like it. I gulp. “On his way to the hospital.”
His mouth drops, and he gasps. “Is he okay?”
Before I can answer, Wyatt steps in front of me. “We don’t know.” He crouches next to him. “I can’t believe I ever looked up to you. I can’t believe you were ever anything more to me than the selfish fuck who’s groveling before me right now.” I swallow at his words. He deserves this moment. He deserves it and then some for the way Lance talked about these guys. I hope everything Wyatt gets off his chest is getting through to him, but I doubt it. “We’re all so much better off without you.”