Dreaming of a Hero (Heroes Series Book 2)

by Lyssa Layne

  She started. “I’m sorry?”

  “I was thinking we could both use some cheering up. Would you like it if I had some of my friends over for a barbeque tonight? Might be fun.” He looked so hopeful she hated to say no. Still, she didn’t think it was a good idea to get too friendly.

  “Oh, that’s not necessary,” she murmured. “I’m sure you’re busy.”

  He laughed harshly. “No, not really. My calendar’s pretty empty.”

  She could talk to some people who knew Skeeter and gain some insight into him. “In that case, why not?”

  “Good.” When he smiled it was like the sun coming out from behind a bank of clouds. He pulled a cell phone out of his pocket and dialed. “Dianna? It’s Mike. I’m planning a last-minute party at my place tonight. Can you get everyone together? Great. Thanks. I’ll see you then.”

  Who was Dianna? Mallory refrained from asking. He wouldn’t be a man who would have a difficult time finding female companionship. She glanced sideways at him, her gaze lingering. Her gaze roamed his granite profile, dropping to muscled arms and large, square hands. And finally, two hard, muscled thighs. What would it be like to touch him there? Normally very reserved, she had never given rein to such an impulse. Maybe it was the type of men she normally dated which discouraged such ideas. Professors, businessmen, all as proper as she. Probably her own insecurities had attracted men with similar issues to her in the past. Whatever the reason, she hadn’t found the man who could break through her barriers. She doubted she ever would.

  Dressed casually in Levi’s and a dark gray tee that showed off his working man’s physique, Mike seemed more earthy than most of the men she knew. No, more than his style of dress or blond good looks suggested heat. Perhaps it was his confidence that drew her to him. She dragged her gaze to the window. Although Mike warmed her more than he had a right to, she would keep her head. She always did.

  ~*~

  Mallory glanced at her watch. Mike had planned dinner for six-thirty. With about thirty minutes to kill, she dug Skeeter’s torn map out of her bag and settled on the bed. With a layman’s eye, she judged the paper to be authentic. Quite old, yellowed, edges crumbling. She didn’t recognize any of the landmarks, but it would be easy enough to compare them to a modern map and see where they were. Nothing jumped out at her, until upon closer inspection, she noticed a tiny X near the torn edge. The mark had been made with a ballpoint pen. Her pulse jumped. What did it mean? Had Skeeter found something there? She had no way to know.

  Frustrated that she only had half of the map, she folded it and stowed it back in her purse. Without knowing the landmarks, her map was virtually useless. Maybe there was a topographical map of Arizona at the lodge. She’d ask Mike at dinner.

  Noticing it was almost time, she checked her hair and makeup in the large oval mirror over the vanity. Usually, she wore minimal makeup, but she’d taken a little extra time applying eyeshadow and mascara tonight. Her curly mane was unruly on her best hair day, so she’d pulled it into a ponytail, hoping she didn’t look twelve.

  Before she reached the pool, the aroma of grilled steak reached her nose and her stomach grumbled in response. Belatedly, she realized she was starving. She hadn’t touched most of her lunch. A woman’s laughter floated on the cool night air. Did it come from the mysterious Dianna? Mallory turned the corner.

  A group of five people were gathered near the pool, all dressed casually. Two of them sitting in a lawn chair, holding hands and exchanging kisses every few seconds were obviously a couple. A third man with a bald head leaned against a pole, a bit apart. Mike turned a steak on the grill and a short, dark-haired woman stood at his side. She laughed at something he said and Mallory knew without asking this was Dianna.

  Forcing a smile, Mallory joined them.

  “Mallory. You made it.” Mike handed her a beer she didn’t want. “Meet my friends.”

  She moved under the Japanese lanterns lighting the pool deck and gave a small wave. “Hello.”

  He gestured to the kissy couple. “These are the newlyweds, as if you couldn’t guess, Alan and Shelby.” Both smiled and greeted her. Mallory liked them almost immediately. If she hadn’t known better she would’ve placed the pair of blondes, both a bit chubby, for siblings.

  She glanced at the man half-hidden in the shadows. “That’s Brent hiding back there.”

  He lifted a hand, but didn’t speak.

  “Leave me for last why don’t ya, Mike?” The short dark-haired woman jumped in. She moved closer to his side, giving Mallory a cool look. “I’m Dianna.”

  “Nice to meet all of you.” Mallory sipped the cold beer as a shiver rolled down her spine. She tugged her sweater a bit closer. Although desert days were warm in February, nights weren’t. No different than Vegas.

  “Cold?” Mike asked.

  “A bit,” she admitted.

  “Come close to the fire,” he invited. He didn’t seem to notice Dianna’s hard look.

  Taking care not to crowd Dianna, Mallory soaked up the warmth of the mesquite-scented flames. The scent of meat grilling over the fragrant wood made her salivate. Her stomach rumbled again and she hoped no one noticed.

  “So, Mallory, Mike tells us you’re Skeeter’s daughter?” Shelby asked from Alan’s lap. “We had no idea he had any family.”

  “You knew him?” Mallory asked, surprised. For some reason she’d thought Mike was the only person here acquainted with her dad.

  “Sure. We all did. Well, not well,” Shelby admitted. “But we all saw him around. Probably Dianna more than the rest of us.”

  Turning toward the other woman, Mallory asked, “Why’s that?”

  “She’s the rec-direct.” Alan laughed. “It’s her job to be a busybody. And she’s good at it.”

  “I don’t understand.” Mallory felt awkward, out of the loop. She twisted the cold beer in her hands. These people had known her father. A bite of jealousy stung her and she tried to hide it. Here were the people who could answer her questions.

  “Simple.” Brent joined the conversation. “Alan means Dianna’s title is the Recreation Director here at the ranch. Her job is to keep our guests happy.”

  “Oh, I understand now.” Mallory looked at Dianna again. Now that he mentioned it, she did look like a P.E. teacher or a gymnast. Short, bulky, not fat, but built like a square. Even her chin-length haircut framed a box-shaped face. “During your duties you ran into my father? Did you speak to him?”

  “Once or twice,” Dianna admitted. “We didn’t socialize, if that’s what you mean. I was too busy to shoot the breeze with a vagrant. Before we all lost our jobs, I was busy anyway.”

  “Dianna.” Mike’s tone was hard. “Mallory’s father just died. Remember that.”

  “Sorry,” she said, obviously not meaning it. Her eyes were mean.

  “We’re going to save The Cholla. If it’s the last thing I do.” Mike’s features hardened, like his words. “No one’s going to take our home without a fight.”

  Mallory shivered at his tone. Was her imagination working overtime, or did he sound ominous? He was too nice to be dangerous. Not all criminals looked like devils. Her appetite dimmed.

  “Now, let’s eat.” Mike waved a spatula. “Help yourselves.”

  For the next few minutes they filled their plates and settled around a picnic table. Alan and Shelby snuggled on the end, Mike across from them, Dianna squeezed between him and Mallory. Brent sat across from her. A thin frame to the point of skeletal and shadowed eyes suggested he wasn’t well. Had he shaved his head, or had illness made it bald?

  “You are all employed here?” Mallory asked them.

  A long silence met her question.

  “Yes, they are,” Mike said finally. “But we’re friends first. We all met at U of A. Been friends ever since. Dianna’s job you already know. Alan is the head of maintenance. Shelby is our resident nurse. And Brent runs the rafting.”

  “It’s my job that got the SRPL on our butts.” Brent hung his bald h
ead. “They don’t think we should raft on the river.”

  “That’s crap and you know it,” Dianna said. “Those nuts don’t think anyone ought to use the desert for anything but what they approve of, including riding or hiking. They forget it’s public land.”

  Mallory didn’t ask, but she wanted to know who the SRPL were and if they had placed the signs at the entrance of the ranch. How had they shut down the resort? More importantly, would these people, all out of work, do something to Skeeter if he’d found a gold mine? Her imagination was getting the better of her when every stranger she met she looked upon with suspicion in her father’s death. She’d seen too many mysteries on the tube.

  “Let’s not bore Mallory with our problems,” Mike said smoothly. He met her eyes. “This group has been friends forever, and yes, we all work here when we’re up and running.”

  “Yeah, we made a pact in college to stay together,” Shelby said. “And we have. Except for—” She shot Mike an apologetic glance. Her voice lowered. “Well, Elisha.”

  By the sudden silence, Mallory knew Elisha had meant something to Mike.

  “I liked Skeeter,” Brent said, easing the sudden tension. He spoke in a soft, nearly inaudible voice. “Whenever I had the chance I stopped and visited with him. He was an interesting guy.”

  “What did he say?” Mallory took a bite of perfectly done steak and chewed, waiting to hear Brent’s answer. Finally. A clue to her father.

  “He talked about the weather. The water. There are some old Indian signs—petroglyphs—on a big rock up there.” He pointed toward the mountains. “Skeeter sometimes went up there to try and figure out the meanings and everything.”

  “He was an archeologist,” Mallory shared. “At least he was when I knew him.”

  “No way,” Alan said. “Who would’ve guessed old Skeeter was more than a bum.” He shot her a glance. “No offense.”

  Mallory stiffened. Her tone cooled. “He was much more than a homeless bum. I didn’t know the man most of my life, but I do know he had excellent professional credentials. In fact, he was on a team that discovered an ancient Mexican culture more than twenty-eight years ago.” She directed her attention back to Brent. Would he tell her what he knew? “Did Skeeter share anything about a gold mine with you?”

  “I understood that’s what he was looking for,” Brent replied, “but no, Skeeter didn’t spill his secrets to me or anyone else. I was honestly surprised he talked about the petroglyphs with me.”

  “No one knew him well,” Shelby said kindly. “We all knew he had this crazy idea he’d find the Lost Dutchman, or one of the other legendary mines, but no one took him seriously.”

  “Why not? Maybe he succeeded,” Mallory said. Although she knew the odds, she also knew it wasn’t impossible. Especially for a man who knew what signs to look for.

  “Do you know how many people have looked?” Dianna asked. “Hundreds. Maybe thousands. And no one’s ever found a thing out there. Why not? Because there’s nothing to find. Skeeter is just one more casualty of a myth.”

  “Maybe, maybe not,” Mallory said. Either way, she intended to find out.

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Mallory followed the others inside to the rec room where someone started the jukebox. Toby Keith’s sexy baritone blasted out of the speakers. Alan and Shelby began a game of pool, Dianna cornered Mike, and Brent settled into one of the sofas. Mallory took the opportunity to slip away and walk down the hall to a small library she’d noticed earlier. Along with several trophy heads of wild boar and deer, an Arizona map hung on the wall. Obviously old, it didn’t show any modern towns.

  She studied it closely, attempting to determine if any of the landmarks matched those of Skeeter’s torn map. Only one name jumped out, a ghost town named Tortilla Flat. She needed Skeeter’s piece to compare. Right now it was safely stowed in her bag. Before she could orient herself further, voices alerted her she wasn’t alone. She started to show herself when one of them spoke.

  “Where’d she disappear to?” one of them asked.

  Dianna.

  “I don’t know. Maybe to bed.”

  Mallory identified the second speaker as Brent.

  “Without a word? Not likely.” Dianna sniffed. “She’s probably sticking her nose into something that doesn’t concern her.”

  “You’re borrowing trouble,” Brent answered. “She’ll leave as soon as she buries her father. Don’t do anything to arouse her suspicions.” Their voices faded as they moved away.

  So much for a warm welcome. What could she be sticking her nose into? Had Skeeter met with foul play from one of these people because he knew something he shouldn’t? Even more determined to find out more, Mallory waited for a moment to make sure she was alone and then hurried down the hall to her bedroom. With haste, she dug through her bag and found the torn map. Holding it carefully, she made her way back to the library.

  A Garth Brooks tune now filled the air. After checking to make sure no one was around, humming along under her breath, Mallory spread the yellowing paper out next to the map on the wall. Skeeter’s map was apparently hand-drawn, with several landmarks that matched those on the larger version. She traced the landmarks on Skeeter’s map, and then found them on the hanging map. Two towns, Tortilla Flat and Goldfield, sat along a dirt road called the Apache Trail. Skeeter’s map copied the route, but not exactly.

  What did the small inked X indicate on Skeeter’s map? On the big one there was nothing but desert. Again, comparing the two, she saw on Skeeter’s version where he’d marked the X, was now The Jumping Cholla Ranch.

  What could that mean? Why had Skeeter marked the location of The Cholla on his map? Just to get his bearings? Or was there a deeper reason he’d noted the ranch’s position? She bit a thumbnail and stared at the ink spot, trying to figure it out.

  “There you are.” Mike stood in the doorway.

  Mallory yelped and jumped. The map fell from her fingertips to the floor.

  Before she could retrieve it, he beat her to the task. He glanced at it, then looked again. “What is this?”

  “I’m not sure,” Mallory hedged.

  “Like hell.” Mike’s eyes looked like twin blue lakes, frozen over for winter. “Where’d you get this?”

  Not liking his tone, Mallory reached for her page. “Give me my property.”

  He held it away from her. “Not until you tell me how you got this.”

  Seeing he wasn’t going to hand it over, she said, “It’s nothing. Just an old map.”

  “I know what it is. How’d you get it?” He glanced at it again.

  “From Skeeter.” She held out her hand.

  “What?” He looked skeptical. “That’s not possible.”

  “The coroner gave it to me today. This was sewn into his pant leg. The coroner gave it to me today.” Was Mike some kind of nut? He seemed sane, but the way he acted now was beyond weird.

  “Why didn’t you mention this earlier? Is this your plan? Take up where Skeeter left off? To hunt down the treasure he couldn’t find?” He took two steps, then turned around and paced the other way. “I put up with him because he was a crazy old man. Don’t think for one minute you’re going to take up where he left off. Traipsing all over my ranch digging holes, bringing down the wrath of the SRPL even more.”

  “Don’t be ridiculous,” Mallory snapped. “I had no idea Skeeter had a map until today when the coroner handed it to me. I didn’t tell you because I didn’t realize it was any of your concern. And, I have no idea what the SRPL is.”

  He ran a hand over the back of his neck and gave her an apologetic look. “I’m sorry I jumped on you. The SRPL is the Salt River Protection League. They’re an environmental group, extremely radical, who has decided that any use of the public lands by me, and three other commercial users, is tearing up the desert. Along with the Forest Service, they have me shut down until a hearing in June. I can’t be on the public land for any reason. Anything that brings the eye of that crowd on me is a prob
lem.” He handed the map back to her with obvious reluctance.

  Mallory arched her brows at him. No wonder he was grumpy. But she wasn’t a paying guest. She had the right to use public lands. “The SRPL can’t tell me, as a private citizen, not to go on the desert. Right?”

  He grimaced. “Yeah. Partly. The Cholla belongs to me, but the river is government property and it goes directly through the middle of the place and I have several special-use leases on the wilderness for jeeping and riding. As long as I’m not guiding guests through there, I shouldn’t get in hot water. Since you’re not paying, I don’t think you’re bound by the same constraints.”

  “I see.” A bit of her anger turned to sympathy. “I won’t do anything to get you in trouble.”

  “Good.” He ran a hand over short blond hair. “Anything that stirs them up is a problem. If they saw you out there searching the desert, even on adjacent public land, it might give them ammunition to use against me.”

  Mallory’s heart sank. If she did as he asked, and didn’t follow through on her search, she’d never understand what her father gave up everything for. On the other hand, if she didn’t do what Mike wanted, she could cause him irreparable damage.

  “Hey, there you are.” Shelby stuck her head through the door, interrupting them. “It’s getting late. Alan and I are going to head out. Brent left already. He said to tell you thanks. He’ll be up in the morning to go over repairs. Nice meeting you, Mallory. We’ll see you soon.”

  “Thanks, Shell.” Mike moved to kiss her cheek. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

  “Di’s still in the game room. ’Night.” She gave a quick wave and left.

  “I’m tired,” Mallory hinted. “Do you mind telling Dianna goodbye for me?”

  “Not at all,” he said smoothly. “Sleep well.”

  A tinge of regret filled her as he headed off to Dianna. Mallory would be sleeping alone.

  ~*~

  Mike yawned, hoping Dianna would go home.