Tag, You're It!

by Penny McCall

  Another self-satisfied smile, one he didn’t try to hide. “My offer still stands. I will pay you for your services as a guide.”

  “Tag Donovan made the same offer.”

  “Last night, in your room?”

  “He followed me to my room last night, and he left last night. Or didn’t your spy report that to you?”

  Junior didn’t respond.

  “Fine.” Alex pushed away from the wall and headed for the front door.

  Junior laid a hand on her arm. “Donovan was seen in town this morning. I understand he looked very… cranky was the word I believe was used. I doubt he would appear so unhappy if he’d spent the night in your bed.”

  Alex resisted the urge to brush his hand off. And wash her arm. It was harder to ignore the way he looked at her. The way he looked at her was icky. Suggestive icky. She was perfectly willing to manipulate him to get what she wanted, but she wasn’t using sex. Not even the hint of sex. “If we come to an agreement, it’ll be a business arrangement only.”

  He nodded, removing his hand from her arm. “Suppose I offered you a percentage of the treasure.”

  “And if the treasure isn’t found?”

  “Then you prefer a lump sum payment.”

  “Up front,” she qualified, “and I can’t afford to waste my summer looking for a fairy tale.”

  “Ah!” He fingered the half dozen hairs on his upper lip masquerading as a mustache. “You want to know if I can offer you some assurance of success.”

  “Donovan can’t,” she said simply.

  He pursed his lips and held her eyes for a moment. “If I say I have a map?”

  “Then I’d want to see it,” she said, hiding her relief. Tag hadn’t been a hundred percent sure Junior had the thing.

  “To reveal the map, it would be tres stupide, non?”

  She let her mouth twist in a derisive smile. “Stupid how? We’re in your house, surrounded by your men. And you’re not going to let me see it long enough to memorize anything.”

  “But you are asking me to trust you.”

  Alex shook her head. “I haven’t given you any reason to trust me.”

  “And I have given you no reason to doubt my word. Yet you do.”

  He took another of his long pauses, trying to unnerve her with a cold stare. Obviously he’d never come face-to-face with a hungry mountain lion.

  Interestingly enough, not getting a reaction seemed to please him. He turned and left the room; Alex, puzzled, followed him. Maybe she’d underestimated him. He seemed to like her strength, so maybe he wasn’t just a short guy with a Napoleon complex. That made him a whole lot more dangerous. Which didn’t change her predicament at all.

  She followed Junior into a small bedroom, the single bed and chest of drawers shoved aside to make room for a makeshift desk, complete with a laptop.

  Alex skirted the desk and dropped into the chair behind it.

  Junior seemed to be having cold feet. He certainly wasn’t producing the map.

  “No offense, but you’re not the first stranger to show up in town claiming he has a map to the Lost Spaniard.”

  He smiled slightly and came around the desk, waiting politely while she moved out of his way—which she was only too happy to do.

  Behind the desk was a portable safe. Junior hesitated, hand on the dial. Alex turned her back while he worked the combination, heard the door open, then close again, followed by some rustling.

  “Well, Alex, here it is.”

  She turned back around and had to fight to keep her mouth from dropping open. There on the desk was a large swatch of natural linen, centered on which was a piece of yellowed parchment with some faded markings on it. It was about eight inches by twelve, weighted down at either end, but curled at the corners, as if it had been rolled for a long time. There was a small, ragged hole in one corner, through which had been threaded a piece of braided horsehair. The other ends of the makeshift string were around the neck of a small drawstring bag so old the weaving was coming apart in places. In the worn spots Alex could see something glittering. Gold dust, she assumed. Just like Tag had said.

  She traded a look with Junior, and at his nod she bent closer. She didn’t touch it. It was obviously old and no doubt delicate, and she wasn’t taking any chances—not that she cared about the age or historical value of the document but there was no telling what would happen to her if she damaged it, even by accident.

  It didn’t take long to discover that Tag had been right about a lot of things. It was obviously a map, and it did appear to represent the area she worked in. One portion of it looked so much like the valley where her cabin stood—had stood—that she felt an almost overwhelming need to wrap her hands around the pip-squeak’s throat and choke him to death. Junior may not have been the one who burned her out, but he worked for the guy who had.

  And the big, mean men who worked for Junior would be on her in a heartbeat if she so much as called him a nasty name.

  So she concentrated on the map instead. There were noon the parchment, the writing faint and spidery. At least one was in Spanish, and the only landmark she recognized before Junior flipped the linen over it and whisked it back into the safe was Denver.

  But she’d seen enough. “I’ll give you six weeks of my time. You pay me up front. Twenty thousand dollars. I can order equipment, and while I’m waiting for it to arrive, I’ll help you look for the Spaniard.”

  “Twenty—”

  “That’s my price. If you don’t pay it, Donovan will.”

  “Done,” he said, no more hesitating. “Shall we drink a toast to our partnership?”

  Alex bumped up a shoulder. “I assume you want to start tomorrow,” she said, taking the glass of Cognac he poured her but not drinking it. “If we get the details settled, I can use the rest of the afternoon to get my equipment lined up and buy the supplies I’ll need.”

  “Of course,” he said, “you lost all your belongings in the fire. You would not be here otherwise,” he added, “so forgive me for seeming to enjoy that.”

  “No problem,” she said, thinking he really was a sawed little fathead. “I have a checking account at the bank.”

  “I shall do my part, Alex. See that you do the same.”

  ———

  “WHAT’S THE PLAN AGAIN?”

  Tag shushed her, barely a whisper of sound that blended with the wind blowing cold down off the snowcaps.

  They were crouched across the street from the Winston place, behind a rusted-out hulk of a pickup that had been there so long it was half-melted into the landscape. Crocus shoots speared up around the tire rims, amid the bones of last year’s mums. The weather had taken a sharp turn toward spring. It was almost balmy during the day; at one a.m. it made her joints ache.

  She was tired of squatting in the cold and dark, and he was feeling kind of silly, like a kid playing at cops and robbers. “How long—”

  “Shhhhh.”

  “They can’t hear us,” Alex said.

  “How do you know?”

  “They’re not coming over here and shooting. What are we waiting for? I’m an icicle.”

  “I want to make sure we know where everyone is before we go in. You’re new at this.”

  “And you’re a pro?”

  He didn’t say anything, but she could tell he was grinding his teeth.

  “There were five men total with Junior when he arrived in town yesterday,” Alex whispered, her mouth close to Tag’s ear. “There’s a guy at the back door of the house, like there was this afternoon. You can see the one at the front, and there are two more at the hotel, waiting for me to come out.”

  “You’re sure they didn’t see you.”

  “Positive.” And she was pretty proud of herself. She’d snuck out the window of her hotel room, along the roof of the covered boardwalk, shimmying down one of the roof supports and hopping to the ground once she’d she made it to the side street. Then she’d crept along in the shadows, going between buildings and
through backyards until she’d caught up with Tag. “We’ve been here an hour and counting. If they knew I was gone, they’d be here by now.”

  “That leaves one guy inside with Pierre,” Tag said, his face a pale blur in the darkness.

  “And them.” Alex took his chin in her hand and turned his face toward the house next door to Junior’s rental just as a man materialized out of the shadows.

  There was a brief scuffle, and one of the men dropped to the ground and didn’t get up. The muffled sounds of a second set-to floated across the street to them, coming from the back of the house. No sooner had it gone quiet again than another man joined the first at the front.

  “They took out the guards,” Tag said, which she’d already concluded. If it had been the other way around an alarm would have been raised.

  “Dammit,” Alex hissed, smacking Tag on the arm.

  “Ouch.” He caught her wrist before she could smack him again. “This is good. When they come out with the map we’ll just take it away from them. Less risk for us since they won’t be expecting it.”

  Alex jerked her arm free, but she had to admit his new plan sounded good since it also meant less potential they’d be used for target practice. And less waiting as it turned out.

  The two men went in. Within a half minute lights blinked on inside the house, Alex saw shadows wavering wildly against the lit windows, and then there were a couple of gunshots.

  “Shit.”

  “Do you think they’re dead?” Alex wondered.

  “If they are half the town is about to be witness to murder.”

  Sure enough lights came on up and down the street, front doors opened, and people in an assortment of sleep-wear accessorized with cold weather gear appeared on their front doorsteps. Within minutes, Matt’s white Blazer cruised up the street, stopping in front of Junior’s house. Behind him came a crowd of people on foot, mostly men and probably coming from the Casteeley Inn, the only business that would still be open and packed at this time of night.

  Matt got out of the Blazer and stood looking at the sea of faces, both hands on his police belt. He didn’t try to disperse the crowd, though; it would have been wasted effort.

  He didn’t have to investigate a potential homicide, either, as it turned out. The front door of Junior’s rental opened and two men were ejected onto the front lawn, very much alive. And completely naked, hands cupped over their crotches, bare feet dancing on the cold ground.

  Alex hissed a breath in through her teeth. “That’s not a good look for them.”

  “Not a good look for any man,” Tag said, sounding sympathetic. And resigned. “We’ll have to wait to go in.”

  “We’re going in anyway? Tonight?”

  “We have to. If you’re still around tomorrow Junior will expect you to head out with him. And they won’t be prepared for another invasion tonight. They’ll figure sending two guys out wearing nothing but goose bumps will put everyone else off.”

  “It put me off, that’s for sure.”

  Junior and his one remaining conscious gargoyle came out.

  “The two guys at the hotel must’ve stayed put, despite the commotion,” Tag continued. “Junior must really want you if he gave that kind of order.”

  “As a guide, just like everyone else. Thanks to you.”

  Probably just as well she couldn’t see his expression, Alex thought, easing up to peer through the empty truck windows as Tag was doing.

  They were only catching about every other word over the crowd noise, but the tone was unmistakable.

  “Junior is pretty mad,” Tag said.

  “Matt doesn’t look very happy, either.”

  “Come on.” Tag took her by the wrist and towed her out to the back of the crowd, nonchalantly working his way around the outer perimeter of people toward Junior’s house.

  Alex’s heart was hammering so hard she still couldn’t make out more than the fact that Junior and Matt were arguing. She followed Tag through the dark yard of the house next to Junior’s and behind, stepping over the still unconscious goon and sneaking in through the unlocked back door.

  “Where’s the safe?” Tag asked her, and when she didn’t answer he took her by the shoulders and gave her a little shake. “Now you have trouble talking?”

  Her mouth snapped shut and her nerves steadied. “Sorry, it’s my first B and E,” she said, pointing to the back bedroom Junior had turned into his office. “Under the desk.”

  Without so much as a dirty look, Tag slipped into the bedroom, knelt by the safe, and put his ear against the door. He had the thing open inside of fifteen seconds. For a guy who claimed to be honest and aboveboard, Donovan knew an awful lot about underhanded behavior.

  “Where did you find your treasures before this?” Alex asked him. “Behind the vault door at your local bank?”

  “I read a book on safecracking once,” Tag said.

  “No, seriously.”

  “Can we discuss this later?”

  “You say that a lot, and then the subject never comes up again.”

  “Excuse me for wanting to get out of here in one piece before I give you my life story.” Tag unbuttoned his shirt and laid the map against his chest, buttoning back up.

  Alex couldn’t really fault that logic, so she waited while he eased the bedroom door open and peeked out. “Is the coast clear, Indiana?”

  He heaved a sigh and let his head fall forward.

  “You dragged me into this.”

  “Don’t remind me.”

  “Any time you want to call it off, Donovan, just let me know.”

  “Tempting, but I’m not the only one you have to worry about.”

  “Don’t remind me.” Alex slipped by him, into the hallway and out through the back door, Tag on her heels. They half-jogged through town, sticking to back streets and coming up behind the stable.

  “I brought your things while you were at Junior’s earlier,” Tag said once they were inside, “but that beast wouldn’t let me anywhere near him.”

  “Men,” she muttered in disgust. She took her satchel from Tag and dropped it next to the small duffel of new clothes and personal supplies she’d bought with the last of her own funds and dropped off earlier. Junior’s money was still in her bank account and that’s where it would stay until this thing was over and she could decide what to do with it. If she was still alive.

  It only took a few seconds to saddle Jackass and secure her things, but when she tried to lead him out of the stall he wouldn’t budge.

  “Come on,” Tag said. “As soon as Junior gets done reading the riot act to Barney Fife and making his point to the rest of the town, he’s going to check on the map.”

  “If he’s familiar with your skills, he’ll know it was you.”

  “He’ll know you told me where to find the map, Alex. He’ll go straight to the hotel, and when he discovers you checked out, he’s going to come here next.”

  Quite the incentive. She took hold of Jackass’s bridle and pulled with all her might, finally managing to get him moving. Sort of. He took a couple of steps and went down on his front knees before struggling to his feet again.

  “Jesus, what’s taking so long?”

  “There’s something wrong with Jackass.”

  “Leave him.”

  “Absolutely not.”

  “Junior is going to be really pissed off. and when he’s pissed off he doesn’t have much self-control.”

  “And he has big, nasty men to do his dirty work. I remember,” Alex said. “Jackass is sick. If I leave him, the people in this town will put a bullet in his head rather than pay to have him treated.”

  Tag blew out a breath, but she had to give him credit; he stuck. “What’s wrong with him?”

  “I don’t know. I’m not a vet.”

  “Maybe he’s been drugged.”

  She held it together long enough to look in his eyes. And then she got a whiff of his breath. “Son of a…” She met Tag’s eyes. “He’s not drugged, an
d he’s not sick. He’s drunk.”

  Chapter Ten

  “DRUNK?”

  Alex took another whiff of his breath, which was pretty easy since he was lipping at her chin. “Shit-faced.”

  “Your horse is drunk,” Tag repeated, incredulous, disgusted. And a little smug.

  “What can I say? He likes beer. And whiskey. Everyone in town knows it.”

  “Great. The only way we can get out of here is on horseback, and Jackass is drunk.” Tag stomped off a few feet, came back. “There’s no way you can ride him like that. You’ll have to take another horse.”

  “Then I’ll have Matt after me, too,” Alex pointed out, “and there are pretty stiff penalties for horse thieves, even these days.”

  “You ride that horse, you’re going to die. I’d call that a stiff penalty.”

  “Ha. Ha.”

  “I wasn’t making a joke. Stop being so damn stubborn—”

  “I’m not being stubborn. Jackass won’t let me down.”

  She took him by the cheekstraps, one hand on either side of his face, and looked him in the bleary eyes. “Tag thinks you’re going to get me killed,” she said right in his face. “Let’s prove him wrong.”

  She climbed into the saddle and waited for Tag to do the same with his horse. He stood there a minute, staring at her in disbelief.

  “Come on,” she said. Jackass nipped at Tag; he only missed because he was tipsy.

  “It’s your ass,” Tag said, mounting the horse he’d bought earlier that day, a mare named Angel. He’d paid twice what she was worth, but that was the way with women. There was always a price, and it rose steeply when you really needed them. “And speaking of asses, what was with that cowboy in town today?”

  Alex laughed, nudging Jackass in the sides so he’d follow Tag’s horse out the door. Jackass wasn’t entirely surefooted, but Alex had faith in him.

  “You didn’t answer my question about the cowboy.”