by E. M. Moore
I throw the door open, and it releases the floodgates for everyone else’s movement too. They follow me out of the car and toward the garage. I use my key to open the rickety door and stick my hand just inside, searching for the shovel handle. My fingers pass through spiderwebs as I go, but I finally find the handle and pull it out, shutting and locking the garage once I have it.
Nodding, I take them around the back of the house, and we start walking. Our land is about as dry as the desert. Very few tufts of vegetation sprout out here and there, but it’s mostly a walk through hard-packed dirt, the ground cracked because of the arid climate. “My family has owned this land for centuries,” I say offhandedly. “My great great great great—honestly, I’ve forgotten how far back it goes—but he was around when they built Clary. When the gold rush happened, we were here. He bought this land.” The truth is, we own acres upon acres. I used to play outside for ages when I was a kid, exploring all kinds of things. My father never minded as long as I didn’t go off our property, which gave me a bunch of leeway. Once we’re a ways back from the road, I point out a decaying structure that’s skinned right down to the timbers. “That was the original house.”
The guys let me talk as we traverse the walk to the safe. Wyatt takes the shovel from me, though, and I miss having it to keep my hands busy.
“Who built the house you grew up in?” Lucas asks.
“My granddad. When they put the road through, it only made sense to have the house near the road, so they abandoned the family house which was falling down anyway and built that one. Can you believe the Wilders used to be well off?” I chuckle to myself. My family has sunk every penny we ever earned into finding the treasure.
“I’ve heard the story a million times, but you know I’ve never heard it from a Wilder,” Wyatt says. “You mind tellin’ it?”
I know the story inside and out. It was my bedtime story for many years. This story made me think anything was possible. The story that sounded like it jumped right out of a book, a fairy tale come to life. The thing about fairy tales is, they end happily. My family has been waiting around for our happy for a hundred years.
“The story is,” I say, unable to help the smile that tugs at my lips. It’s no wonder that I grew up loving to read. I wanted to immerse myself in stories wherever I was. Not just the one I was living, but others, too. “My great great great you know,” I tease. “He not only stumbled across the richest gold vein in the Superstitions, but one day while he was mining it, he decided to explore the caves nearby. He twisted this way and that through the tunnels of rock as he traversed the dark stone tunnels until he came across a set of dusty old sacks. People find a lot of shit up in the Superstitions, so he just nudged them aside with his foot, but when he did, he heard the tinkling of metal.”
I stop, remembering the way my father used to get overly animated as he told me the story. It always amazed me that these stories were told to generations and generations of Wilder’s. The same words passed down over the years. “Thinking it was a competitor’s mining tools on his claim, he ripped the drawstring bag open. When he did, the bag practically disintegrated in his hands, and what poured out was the most beautiful array of colors he’d ever seen. In the light of the waning candle, the glittering jewels lit up the cave, splashing it in an array of colors that was just like a true-to-life rainbow in the center of a mountain.”
A smile pulls at Lucas’s lips. Wyatt kicks at a plant, causing dust to plume in front of us, and Stone just listens silently.
“Well, my great great great you know Granddad almost had a heart attack. He opened up all the bags, gleaming at the treasure before his eyes. There was gold, silver, and jewels. The prettiest jewelry one could ever imagine. He put everything right back where it was before he packed up his gear and went home. For ages, he acted like nothing happened. You know how secretive mining can be. He never told anyone about the vein he was on, and he sure as hell wasn’t going to tell anyone that he stumbled upon a treasure the likes no one had ever seen before. Secretly, he did his homework, wondering what in the world he’d come across. When his sons were old enough, he started taking them to the cave, showing them not only how to mine the gold, but the treasure he’d found years ago.”
“It happened like that,” I say, “Every Wilder passing it on to their children. Did you know I’m the only Wilder child in history who isn’t a male? Dad said that never mattered though because I have a heart of gold and the smarts, too.”
Lucas leans over and presses a kiss to my cheek. “He’s right, you know.” He beams at me, then asks, “How did the secret get out?”
My blood curdles. “When my great great great you know grandfather had his fiftieth wedding anniversary with his wife, he wanted to get her something really nice. To show her how much he loved her. So, he asked his eldest son to grab the prettiest piece of jewelry he could from the mountain treasure. When he gave it to her, he told his wife they’d earned it mining, but in reality, it was from the deposit they’d found. The one he’d never uttered a word about before. It’s as if he knew what was about to happen.” I grind my teeth together. “Once she started wearing the ring around town, the other miners got jealous. They thought he’d struck it rich up there. Clary was like it is today. No one was making much money, so he was always very careful. He let it slip one time to get his wife something nice. Just one time.”
The end of this story never ceased to make me madder than hell and more determined than ever to find the treasure. It’s like I’ve been wanting to stick it to the people of Clary my whole life. Stick it to people like Stone Jacobs.
“Next time the son went into their cave, he was followed. A guy from town laid in wait, searched the caves while Wilder was mining. He found the treasure alright. He tried to take it out, right in front of my ancestor’s eyes. They got in a fight, and my great great whatever granddad was killed. The loudmouth thief left the body and the treasure there, but when he got back to Clary, he started spilling the beans. It got back to the patriarch of the Wilders that his son was dead. He was so fuming mad, he went into the center of town where a bunch of townspeople were mounting horses to get to the treasure, and he shot that thieving son of a bitch dead for what he’d done.” I gulp. “Unfortunately, he had a heart attack right there in the center of town. It destroyed my family.”
I clear my throat to stifle some of the emotion threatening to burst out. It’s a terrible story any way you look at it, but when you think that it’s your own history. The same genes that ran through them run through me, I can’t help but feel it more. “When word got back to the family that not only the dad was dead but his brother, too, the youngest son told his mom what they’d found. They vowed never to talk about it again. Most of the clues out there come from that thieving asshole’s mouth when he told the townspeople where it was located. That’s why it’s all jumbled up and convoluted.”
Creases cut into Wyatt’s forehead. “Then how come your family hasn’t found it yet?”
“The younger son never went back. He left family clues as to where it was, including telling the story I just did. Some say his family dying made him a little nuts, so his clues were more like riddles. They’ve been handed down for generations. But the thing is, the markers they said were there either haven’t been found yet or have been eroded by history. Every generation since has tried to find the treasure. My dad said it’s the Wilder’s loudest call and our greatest downfall.” He wasn’t kidding.
Lucas shakes his head, staring down at the packed, red-tinted earth beneath our feet. I look up, shielding my eyes from the sun as I survey where we are. I’d gotten lost in the story and hadn’t been paying attention for a while. I spot the tree in the distance and head that way. I often asked Dad if we should move the safe, but as you might expect, he didn’t trust a whole lot of people. Even a bank. My family has deep-seated trust issues that go back to that guy trying to steal what was ours. We’ve been distrusting ever since. I always imagined it got worse with every
generation, which was why my father is the way he is. A paranoid recluse.
He was okay if the secret died between us. I asked him what would happen to the treasure if something happened and we were killed together. He told me it would stay in those caves where it belonged. In my dad’s mind, no one was bringing out that treasure but a Wilder. He was okay with our secrets lying to waste in the desert if something happened to our bloodline.
A curdling chill runs up my spine. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve wondered if I’m the last Wilder alive. That’s a pressure I can’t even begin to describe. A lot of weight pressing down on these shoulders, that’s for sure. My father even made me promise I’d have kids someday. Insurance, he called it. Just in case we never found it that we gave another generation of Wilders a chance.
Thinking back on some of the things I’ve believed all my life, it sounds fucking crazy.
Either way, I’m in our acres of acres of land with a shovel in my hand, so obviously I don’t think it’s that crazy.
Before we get there, I peer around like my father used to do a thousand times as we approached the hiding spot. We live so far outside the city and we’re so far back from the road that I thought he was just being his paranoid self, but now that these secrets are mine to guard, I feel the same amount of pressure to keep them hidden. The coast looks clear. In this spot, you could see people coming from far away in all directions.
I head to the tree and lean the shovel against it, then I prop my hands on my hips and face the guys. “What’s in this safe has never been shown to anyone outside the Wilder family.”
“We’re here for you,” Lucas says.
I give him a small smile. “That’s cute, but I just want to say one thing. If you double-cross me, not only will I sue you for that huge amount Stone put in that contract, but I’ll also hunt you down and personally castrate all three of you with the biggest smile you’ve ever seen on my face while I do it. I will enjoy it. I will do it slowly, painfully. I will—”
“Christ, am I supposed to be turned on at this point?” Wyatt asks.
I glare at him.
He holds his hands up. “I get it. If I talk, no cock.”
I go to say something smart, but I’m pushed against the tree, Stone’s hard gaze on me. His chest heaves as he presses against the length of my body. Before I know it, he’s on me. His lips claim mine, forcing my mouth open with a swoop of his tongue. He pushes and pushes, diving in and out, mesmerizing my lips until they’re buzzing, feeling like they’ve been at war and bruised, but also like they enjoyed the fuck out of it. When he pulls away, he says, “I know what you’re doing for us. I intend to never make you regret this for the rest of your life, Dakota Wilder.”
I stand there stupidly. While he’s promising me things I never thought to ask for, my mind takes a much dirtier path. He steps away, and my body immediately screams for him. I want to tell it to stop overreacting, but the truth is, I felt that kiss all the way to my soul.
With Stone, the intensity of my feelings are scary. It’s either I hate him so much I hope he drowns in a two-inch puddle. Or I want to run off into the sunset on his arm with a life growing inside me. There’s no happy medium.
I press my fingers to my lips, the ghost of his touch still there. He’ll be imprinted on me always now.
Fuck.
Stone picks up the shovel. “Just point me where.”
I guess at this point, it would be inappropriate to point where I want him most. And that has nothing to do with digging in the dirt.
33
Before I can point out the spot within three paces of the tree where the safe is buried five feet under the earth, the ground underneath my feet rumbles at the same time an explosion roars its way through the landscape. I whip around in time to see a fireball rise up from where my family’s house would be.
“What the fuck?” I stagger back as the impact of what’s happened hits me. Rubble from the explosion falls back down to the earth.
My house. My father’s house. My memories. I run forward, needing to see it for myself. The guys call out behind me, but I don’t stop. My feet kick up dirt all around me as I run as fast as I can back toward the house. Flames flicker just over the little knoll, reaching up toward the sun as if we needed another source of heat in this godforsaken place.
Hands capture me from behind, and I struggle to get out of them. Up ahead, an ATV roars over the little knoll, catches air, and lands in a plume of dust. Two more ATV’s follow while Stone loosens his grip on me. We start to move backwards until Wyatt and Lucas flank us.
My flight response kicks in but there’s nowhere for us to go. All there is are miles and miles of the same terrain. There’s no place to take cover. Nothing to hide in or behind. Whoever these guys are would find us in a heartbeat.
“Fuck,” Lucas growls. He stands next to me, his shoulder heaving against mine as the ATV’s surround us.
I almost fall flat on my ass when I recognize Lance Jacobs. The dust plume hides his face for a moment but when he gets out, I growl on instinct.
“Thanks, son,” Lance says, smiling at Stone.
I turn toward Stone, my stomach bottoming out. A physical pain hits me in the chest. His mouth drops, but I’m not falling for it. What was that kiss for anyway? Just something to distract me?
They’ve used me.
Other men dressed in suits get out of ATV’s, all driven by people I wouldn’t think these rich bastards would even give the time of day. The separation between them is apparent. Three of the guys, including Lance, look like they just stepped out of the country club while their drivers sport tattoos peeking out of rolled-up sleeves and shorts that hang low on their asses, boxers peeking through. Thugs, basically. If it weren’t for the smiles on all the rich guys’ faces, I’d think we were in some sort of hostage situation.
“I told you we would get to the bottom of everything,” Lance says, smiling at the guy who drove his ATV. The guy doesn’t grin back. In fact, he looks scary as fuck. He has flame tattoos peeking out of his shirt collar, a five o’clock shadow that adds to his danger factor, and a presence that chills me to my bones.
And I thought Stone Jacobs had a look. This one is danger personified. That little niggle of intuition shivers up my spine. He may look years younger than Lance Jacobs. He may look like he belongs in juvenile detention with the earrings adorning his ears rather than driving an ATV for a rich dude, but he’s the biggest threat in this scenario. I can feel it.
Lance Jacobs is his bitch.
“Dad,” Stone says, gritting his teeth.
Lance shakes his head. “I let you play out this little scenario for too long.”
A rumble comes from Stone’s chest, but it cuts off as the other two thugs produce guns from somewhere on them. They hold them down next to their thighs, but just the fact that they have them makes fear skitter through me. I take a step back and hit Lucas’s hard body.
Lance smirks as he looks around. The line in his jaw feathers, but he laughs it off. “It’s good to have backup,” he shrugs. “But the guns won’t be necessary. Dakota Wilder is going to tell us where her father’s important papers are, aren’t you, Dakota?”
I clamp down on my jaw as the two gunmen lift their guns, aiming them right at me. My stomach bottoms out, and a cold shiver leaves me standing there, isolated. Wyatt pushes forward, profanities spilling into the air as he moves in front of me. One of the guys moves, aiming the gun toward him, and fires.
The sound is deafening, cutting through everything, and silencing us in a single heartbeat. The crack ricochets through me, and I gasp. Lucas puts his arm around Wyatt’s waist like a protective band, still holding him back. I almost fall to the ground in relief to see them both standing there. Jesus. He shot at him! Wyatt, instead of slinking back into place, looks like he wants to throttle the guy for daring to pull the trigger, but he lets Lucas hold him back.
“Now that we have your attention,” the leader says.
No
kidding. Whoever these guys are, they mean business.
The leader gleams at me, a sparkle in his eye like he gets off on doing this. He bows. “Dakota. I hope you’ve gotten my letters.”
My gaze darts around the men in front of me. The other two rich snobs have twin looks of scared shitless with an armor of puffed-up chests, telling me they want to think they’re in control, but they’re really not. If Lance wasn’t such a good actor, he’d look the same. These wealthy fucks are in way over their heads. They know boardrooms and business deals, but these other three, there’s something way more sinister about them. They’re not afraid to shed blood.
“That was you?” I ask, trying to bide us time until we figure out what to do. What the hell am I saying, I’m trying to bide myself time. Stone double-crossed me. My gut wrenches, but I focus back on what we’re dealing with now. There’s no way on God’s green earth I’m telling these hoodlums the exact location of my father’s safe.
“I know I’m not the best poet, but I hear girls like letters.” He gleams at me, the earrings in his ears catching on the Arizona sun and sparkling. A sickening feeling rolls over me like a riptide.
I shrug. “I’m not like most girls.”
He chuckles, and it somehow sounds more menacing than his regular voice which definitely has the creep factor anyway. “I’ve been watching you,” he says, moving closer. He shakes his head as if he almost doesn’t believe what he’s going to say next. “I like you.”
Stone and Lucas close ranks around me as the guy approaches. I wish I could push Stone away, send him sprawling to his knees where he belongs. After everything he said. After everything he promised.
“Settle down, boys,” the thug says derisively. “I’m not going to hurt Dakota. We won’t hurt anyone as long as we get to leave here with what we want.”