Those Heartless Boys

by E. M. Moore

  I don’t know. I don’t put much stock in what some of these people say.

  Now, what they say about Marilyn is true. She’s a gold-thieving bitch. Too proper for Clary. Too stuck-up for my dad. And if she didn’t have a giant backhoe up her ass, I’m not sure why she always walked around straighter than a compass needle pointing north.

  Instead of leaving my bike in front of the dorms like I usually do, I drag it up the wooden staircase and right inside my front door. Saint Clary’s dorms are actually just an old west motel turned into college living. It’s a long building, stretched out almost an entire block in length. The walkways to the exterior dorm room doors hover over a gulch that gurgles with rain water when it actually does rain. Every other day, it’s just a dried-up ravine riddled with stones. Just past the hotel, there’s a curve in Old Gulch Road that leads to the college.

  Years ago, Saint Clary’s didn’t have dorms. The campus was just too small, but then the Johnsons, the owners of this old hotel, fell on hard times. They kept the motel alive for as long as they could, but once a Motel Six opened up a quarter of an hour away, no one wanted to stay at the Clary Inn, whether they were treasure hunting or not. It needed a remodel two decades ago, and the Google reviews left it with barely a single reservation throughout the summer months. A crazy occurrence considering the number of tourists we get that time of year, all of them with gold bars in their eyes. I guess the call of the new single-serve Keurig’s in the Motel Six was just too much for the outsiders to turn down.

  When the Johnsons put the motel up for sale, the community reached out to the college to purchase it. The last thing we needed was another building that sat unused and seeing as how Clary’s higher education institution is pretty much the only business in Clary that makes money besides the gas stations and saloons, they were the only hope. Thankfully, they took pity on us and bought it, putting very little money into the building to transform it into dorm rooms. The dorms are full despite the fact that most students are locals. I don’t know where the farthest commuter lives this year, but last year, it was only forty-five minutes away. We’re the smallest campus of any Arizona college, but we’re also the cheapest, and as my dad always said, sometimes you just can’t pass up a deal.

  I lean my bike against the closet door. She’s safe and sound in here. I highly doubt the Jacobs’ golden boys would set foot in these dingy dorms let alone stay in one of them.

  And there it is again, a reminder rearing its ugly head that the one thing the Jacobs always had that we didn’t was money. When you’re treasure hunting, that can mean a world of difference. Treasure hunting isn’t cheap. The supplies alone can get expensive, and that’s not even counting the time off of work—if you’re lucky enough to have a regular job. However, there’s one thing that we Wilders have—an important thing—that they don’t: Information. And as they say, information is king.

  When I decided to go to Saint Clary’s, I felt bad for taking up a room at the dorms since the commute is basically nonexistent, but I excused myself the fuck out of the house when Marilyn moved in. My dad thought it was because I wasn’t used to having another woman around, but really it was because Stone’s mother thought she was too good for us. Too good for the house my great-grandfather built. Too good for our surroundings. Maybe most of all, too good for my dad. I don’t argue with my father, though, and Marilyn made him happy, so I took myself out of the equation.

  I grab some water from the tap and settle down on the couch with my book bag, hoping I took good notes while distracted about who had shown up to ruin the only good thing in my life right now. To me, college has always been a necessity. A foundation that would lead me to being one of the only members of my family to get a real job. That didn’t mean I was giving up on treasure hunting. Not at all. But I hated being the butt of jokes around town. For once, the Wilders were going to be something.

  I take out my textbooks and spread them out over the rustic coffee table my dad made with two-by-fours and push my bag over the edge of the couch. When I glance down, a corner of an envelope sticks out of the front pocket. Oh shit. I’d forgotten about the letter the school secretary handed me.

  I know she thinks it’s about my dad. I’ve heard the rumors around town. People know Marilyn left me with nothing. Whether that’s Dickie’s doing, I’m not sure. The secretary probably thinks this is some super secret life insurance payout or something. The problem is, he’d have to be declared dead to get any sort of payout. Right now, he’s not.

  My vision blurs as I knock the letter onto the floor and pull my British Lit textbook onto my lap. Hopefully, the old English text of Beowulf can keep my mind occupied. I cross my legs in front of myself and settle down for a night of reading when there’s a knock on my door.

  I lift my gaze, eyeing the white door with the peephole and the old, slide chain lock. No one’s visited me at my dorm before except for Pops. Goosebumps skitter over my skin, but then another wailing knock comes on the door, accompanied by “Dakota, open the door!”

  I’d know that gruff growl anywhere. The kind that makes you feel inferior just by its tenor. I grit my jaw. Is he fucking serious? Now he’s coming to my dorm? “Two words, asshole. Fuck off.”

  There’s a pause on the other side. I smile triumphantly.

  My smile is short-lived. A pompous laugh erupts from the other side. “Little Dakota, growing some ovaries. I like it.”

  I glare at the door as if I can see right through it to Stone’s pretty face. If looks could kill... I’m just saying, he’d be maimed right now, and he probably wouldn’t be laughing it up.

  “Open up,” he says again. “We need to talk.”

  “We need to talk like I need a hole in the head, Stone.”

  “Aww, come on. We’re family, right?” His voice carries through the door, and I wonder how many people can hear us. We’re talking about a motel that was made in the early 1900s. Soundproofing wasn’t a thing. Embarrassment crawls all over me. We’d already gathered a crowd outside of the school when they hid my bike. Tomorrow, this conversation could replace that in the rumor mill.

  I push all of those worries aside and laugh, my stomach twisting at the word family. I don’t let the grief overtake me though. Not in front of this pompous prick. The day I show him my raw emotions is the day I’m packing it in. I don’t even dignify his question with an answer.

  He lowers his voice. “It’s about the treasure.”

  I smirk. When is it not about the treasure? Everything is about the treasure. “Then I’m not sure why you’re coming to me.”

  “Just open the fucking door.”

  I pretend like I’m thinking for a moment even though he can’t see me. “Um, no. Go away before I call the police.”

  It’s his turn to laugh. “Lionel? He wouldn’t know his ass from a hole in the ground.”

  I roll my eyes. Is that literally everyone’s damn opinion? Maybe Clary should get on that and think about replacing him.

  When I don’t answer, Stone knocks again. This time, the sound makes me jump, like his huge fists are testing the sturdiness of the old construction. Newsflash: It won’t be good for my door. I already see it bowing under his strength.

  “If you don’t open up, I’ll make your life a living fucking hell.”

  “In case you’ve been sleepwalking over the past few months, I’m already there. So, you can just fuck right off, Jacobs. I have nothing to say to you or your friends or your father.”

  A few metallic clicks sound and the door springs open. I toss my English text off my lap and jump to my feet while the threesome stride in, each one wearing heavy, dark gazes that would shrivel others. Don’t get me wrong, they are equal parts menacing…and sexy. I hate to admit it, considering our families’ past, but Stone is a fucking god dropped into the middle of nowhere. His gray-blue eyes are as cold as the Arctic but make me heat in places that shouldn’t considering who he is.

  Wyatt and Lucas flank him, each of them with their own signature s
exiness. Lucas looks as if he just woke up twenty-four-seven. His hair askew, ruffled, but in that put together way that I don’t understand how guys can pull off. Wyatt? He wears a cowboy hat everywhere. If you’ve never seen him up close, you might not understand what this does to a girl, but holy fucking shit, that low brim, just disguising his piercing blue eyes sends goosebumps skating over me, the edge like a razor blade.

  I come out from around the coffee table and stand in front of them. I’m not about to let anyone with the last name Jacobs—or their friends—intimidate me. I’ll just look up sexy cowboys for my spank bank later, but Wyatt won’t be it. That’s for sure.

  “Aww, look,” Wyatt says. “Little Dakota is pissed we broke into her dorm.”

  Stone moves closer, edging me back in my effort not to touch him. I hit the wall and his chest hovers in front of mine, his palms flattening on the wall behind my head.

  Fuuuuck. This is new. I’ve never been this close to Stone Jacobs before. I’m used to slinging insults from a distance. Even that one time when we almost got into a fight over the perfect spot to set up camp while we were in the mountains, I didn’t get this close. Dad ended up talking to the guys they hired to help them find the treasure, and we set up camp next to each other, neither one of the parties backing down.

  Yeah, that’s right. The Jacobs hire people to help them find the treasure. I don’t even think Lance has ever been in the mountains. That’s what he has Stone for, I guess. Letting him do all the dirty work while he gets to sit up in his tower in the city, demanding regular updates from behind a desk. No, Stone is more like his grandfather. His grandfather got down and dirty with the rest of us. My father didn’t like him, but at least he respected him.

  There’s no chance of that with Lance.

  “Do you rich fuckers understand the meaning of personal space?” I set my palms on his chest and shove. I briefly, very briefly, enjoy the tight muscles of his pecs before reality sinks in. Not only is Stone a dick of epic proportions, he’s also still considered my stepbrother. By law, I guess, though I’ve never felt that way. He’s no one to me.

  “We do,” Wyatt says. “We just don’t give a fuck.”

  Lucas stays silent, his hands jammed into his pockets as if all this bores him. He may have a warmer eye color than Stone—a deep brown, the color of mahogany—but they’re as disinterested as can be. His eyes are like a trap, ones you think you can get lost in, but once you’re there, you realize you’ve just ridiculously fucked yourself, and now there’s no getting out of the spider’s web.

  I turn back to Stone who’s gazing at me with a smirk, his perfectly chiseled arms crossed over his chest. I look away, mentally admonishing myself for thinking anything about him is perfect. His whole family are snakes, silently slithering in the background. We’ve found them trailing us up the mountain countless times, trying to get on our trail.

  That’s where the whole feud started. The Wilders have been searching for our treasure since it went missing. The Jacobs are new, but they burst onto the scene with their money, and even though they don’t know shit, their names started getting plastered all over the paper about the next big treasure hunters who weren’t going to let the gold be lost forever. For some reason, that story is more palatable to the public. A rich family who uses their resources to search for more riches. Kind of cliché if you ask me.

  I peek at Lucas who’s standing next to my bike, running his hands across the handlebars. “What do you guys want?”

  “You know what we want,” Stone says, an edge returning to his voice. When I quirk my head toward him, he’s staring daggers at Lucas.

  I sigh, really not liking all these mind games. “No, I don’t. I guess you’re going to have to enlighten the naive, small-town girl. You can’t possibly be looking for my dad because well...he’s not around. Your mom, too. Haven’t seen her.” I sneer. “Have you? Or did she leave you, too, when she fled?”

  This time when Stone gets in my face, it’s not sexy at all. His face is a mask of fury, chilling me to my bones. “Don’t you ever—”

  I push right back. “What? Talk about your bitchy mother? Talk about how she stole from me when she left town? How she didn’t even wait to find out whether we found him, she just up and left like a true Jacobs. Cowardly motherfuckers.”

  Stone roars in my face. With more bravado than I feel, I cross my arms, hopefully masquerading as someone who doesn’t give a shit.

  I used to have all the confidence in the world when our families faced each other. It’s hard now that I don’t have backup. Without my father here, I have to fake all of my bravado. The truth is, I have no idea what I’m doing. My mask begs to slip, but I won’t let it. I’m going to find my dad, and then we’re going to find the treasure. It’s the Wilder destiny. The Jacobs are just flies that just won’t stop circling.

  “Come on, man. Let’s just do what we came here to do,” Lucas chastises, gripping Stone’s shoulder. It feels good that I got to Stone. He’s always so perfectly put together, but right now, he looks anything but.

  Wyatt ambles forward with a sigh, letting us know what he thinks of all of this. He tears a white envelope out of Stone’s back pocket and shoves it at me. “Lance wants to work out a deal.”

  I turn around, dismissing them and heading back to the couch. “Not interested.”

  It’s not like this is the first time someone has tried to buy my family out of what we know. Just because my dad’s gone doesn’t mean this story is going to turn out any differently.

  “It’s more than generous,” Stone says, finally getting himself under control. I can’t help that a thrill shoots through me to know that I got under his skin.

  I shrug. “I’m not for sale,” I say, smiling.

  Each of them give me disgusted looks. “We don’t want you.”

  I laugh to myself. Typical reaction. I haul my Lit book back into my lap. “But let me guess, you want what the Wilders have? The legend? The stories? Hate to break it to you, but—” I pull up my book, showing it off. “It’s not written down in nice, neat little journals with asterisks around what to look for.” I smile broadly. “It’s in me, so yes, in essence, if you want what we have, you want me, and that’s never going to fucking happen.”

  Stone’s gaze narrows, as if he’s trying to figure out if I’m being serious. Oh, yes. I’m being fucking serious. Why would we ever write down something that important? If something happens to me, the clues go with me. That was done with purpose. The clues were for my family and my family only. We were the only ones who were supposed to have found the treasure, and we’re keeping it that way.

  “If that’s the way you want it,” Stone says.

  Lucas is the first to leave my dorm. He leaves the door open, just begging for Wyatt and Stone to follow suit. Thankfully, Wyatt leaves shortly after, shaking his head. Stone leaves only a few seconds after that, leaving the door wide open so I have to get up and lock it myself.

  Assholes.

  Afterward, no matter how much I try to concentrate on my coursework, a gnawing feeling eats at me. My intuition tells me I just awakened a beast. I was afraid this might happen now that I’m alone. The assholes are going to come out thinking I’m weak and susceptible.

  Just fucking let them. We’ll see what happens.

  5

  Turns out I wasn’t wrong.

  Within an hour, the guys are back. This time, they don’t knock on the door.

  The stomping on the outside balcony alerts me first. I try to peer through the lacy curtains in the front room to see who the hell is making so much noise when my door flies open, catching on the chain lock that I put in place as soon as they left the last time.

  From the crack between the frame and the door, a boot lands back on the ground with a hard thud.

  My heart flies into my throat. What the fuck? I snicker outwardly though. Ha. They thought they were just going to come right in this time. Nope. Not going to—

  A pair of bolt cutters sneaks i
nto the gap, and the chain falls apart with a snip.

  Fuck! I back up into the couch, my second-hand laptop falling to the floor. In steps Lance Jacobs. He’s a well-dressed man my father’s age, wearing a polo shirt and khakis in soft colors, almost like he just got off the golf course after playing eighteen holes. The look on his face, though, is thunderous. I’ve never met Lance Jacobs in person, but dollars to doughnuts, this is him. I recognize him from TV. Plus, he and Stone share the same blond hair, along with some of the other darker elements of their personalities.

  “Miss Wilder, I presume?” He gazes around the room with distaste before settling his attention back on me.

  I swallow. There’s a solid ball of ice in my stomach about the same size that took out the Titanic. I lick my lips, my tongue darting out as I assess the situation. The boys have all entered the room, too. Lucas, looking bored as fuck, as usual. Wyatt, with his dark gaze on me. And Stone? He stands just to the left of his father, but a little back, his gray-blue eyes penetrating like liquid mercury. So fucking dangerous. I can feel it in the air, a tension thick around me, alerting me that we’re not playing a normal game now.

  These guys are serious.

  All those thoughts I had earlier? The ones swimming to the surface that made my thighs weak? Yeah, they’re definitely gone. These guys aren’t the type to get mixed up with.

  “I hear you won’t look at my offer.”

  I scowl at him. “You have nothing I want,” I tell him, shoving my fist into the air internally when my voice doesn’t waver.

  I shouldn’t get too cocky though.

  He tilts his head to the side, clearly telling me I’m about as full of shit as they come. “Don’t think we’re blind to your financial situation. You need us. Not just to find the treasure but to…I don’t know, continue eating. You do want to continue eating, don’t you, Miss Wilder?”