Valley of Fire (Valley of the Moon Book 2)

by Bronwyn Archer

But my gray leather jacket was gone.

  The dove had been in the pocket of the jacket.

  Also missing: My duffel bag. It had all my clothes, an extra pair of sneakers—and my mother’s diary.

  I’d left that bag in my Ferrari.

  Which I’d last seen in Valley of Fire State Park with all four tires slashed.

  I sighed and pulled all the dresser drawers open. Empty. I had a horrible feeling the necklace may have flown out of my bag in the crash. Carefully hidden at my mother’s gravesite all these years, and I’d foolishly lost the precious pendant she’d left me.

  I was the girl with nothing—no clothes, no diamond necklace, no car, no house, no money.

  No future.

  Maybe Alexander put it somewhere for you. I had to find him, ask him about a billion questions.

  But first I had a few urgent physical issues to deal with.

  #

  I looked like I had crawled out of my own grave. The sumptuous adjoining bathroom was a symphony of honed stone and glass, but the reflection in the mirror was like something medieval.

  Dark purple shadows lingered under my eyes. Streaks of dirt had dried on my neck and ears. My cheeks were hollow and my skin was so pale my freckles were barely visible. But my hair—oh no.

  Uneven hunks stuck out around my ears, and it was an inch longer on one side. I tried pulling the surviving hair into a ponytail, but it was too short. I sighed.

  A creamy white card tented next to the sink offered instructions for receiving clean towels. An array of tiny bottles of soaps and moisturizers were neatly arranged on a silver tray. I picked one up and read the label.

  Organic Egyptian Sandalwood Shampoo

  Courtesy of

  THE AMANGIRI HOTEL

  Canyon Point, Utah

  In the middle of the desert, Alexander had found a luxury hotel. To my joy, I also discovered my toiletry bag sitting on the counter. I brushed my mossy teeth until my gums ached. I wiped my face and neck with a plush washcloth and smoothed my hair down. I chugged a goblet of water and slipped on the plush ivory bathrobe hanging on a hook by the door.

  A shower would have to wait.

  Wrapping the robe tightly around my body, I left in search of answers.

  #

  I pulled open the bedroom door and stepped into a spacious living room area. Evidence of Alexander was strewn everywhere—pillows and blankets bunched up on the low-slung tan sofa, an expensive-looking leather duffel bag on the floor, and a variety of electronic devices neatly arranged on the glass writing table. The air smelled like cologne and shaving cream.

  I was sharing a fabulous luxury hotel suite with Alexander Ambrose, the hottest guy alive.

  My nerves quivered like plucked guitar strings.

  He’s your cousin! Control yourself.

  The sliding glass doors of the living area opened up to a stone patio surrounded by a high sandstone wall. The baking heat took my breath away, but the stone tiles cooled my feet. The entire area was totally private and enclosed by the same smooth, tan walls as the room bedroom. I squinted up at the brilliant blue sky.

  It was like being stranded on an alien planet.

  The Planet of the Rich.

  As my eyes adjusted, I heard splashing sounds. I clutched my bathrobe tighter and padded towards the sound. Around the corner, there was a huge, raised white daybed with a robe that matched mine draped across it and a rectangular black-bottomed pool.

  Someone was doing laps in the pool.

  And he was stark naked.

  Chapter 2

  Lacus Luxuriae ~ Lake of Luxury

  Tan, chiseled arms cut through the water. His back was well defined and broad. His bare butt was plainly visible through the water.

  I stared for no more than two seconds before looking away.

  Five seconds, tops.

  He reached the edge and rested his arms on the stone lip of the pool, his back to me. A tattoo on the back of one shoulder was too far away for me to make out. I cleared my throat, which was suddenly filled with sand.

  “Uh, hi.” My voice was faint and scratchy.

  “Whoa!” He whipped his head around at me, dove underwater, and swam up to the ledge closest to me. He folded his sculpted arms on the edge of the pool. Liquid hazel eyes smiled up at me. “She’s alive!” I tried not to think about the fact that the best-looking guy I’d ever seen was completely naked three feet away.

  I pulled the robe tighter around my body.

  “Barely,” I managed to squeak out.

  He tilted his head and looked up at me with one hand over his eyes, shading them in the bright sun. “I hope you don’t mind. I thought you’d sleep a little later and I didn’t bring a bathing suit.”

  I tried to swallow some of the sand stuck in my throat. “No problem. We’re family, right?”

  He grinned. “Good point. How are those stitches?”

  I had stitches?

  I reached for my shoulder wound. “Oh. Not terrible. A little sore.” I had so much to say, but my long list of burning questions vanished in his presence. I rubbed my shoulder. “At least it’s not bleeding anymore. Whatever you did—thank you.”

  He ran a hand over his face and through his glossy dark hair. His chest was as smooth and muscular as the rest of him. Water dripped off his arms. I took a step away from him and struggled to keep my eyes on his face.

  “Do you remember getting here?” he asked. “You were pretty out of it. The doctor said it was the dehydration and blood loss.”

  I had just blips of memory—bright lights, his voice, a car ride.

  “Sort of. Did you carry me inside?” Would a hotel let a man take a bleeding, semi-conscious girl into a hotel without calling the police?

  He shook his head. “You passed out in the car. I picked up the key at the front desk, then I carried you into the room. We have a private entrance, so no one saw you.” He had avoided hospitals and police and questions. My heart swelled with gratitude.

  “How did you get a doctor out here?”

  He chuckled. “It’s called money, Lana. Get used to it.” I stared at him, open mouthed. How much had it cost him? “Remember anything else?”

  “I got a shot.”

  “Antibiotics, morphine, and IV fluids. You needed sixteen stitches in that shoulder.” He bit his lip and looked a little sheepish. “Listen, I want to fill you in on everything, but I need to get out of the pool first.”

  “Okay,” I said, standing there like an idiot.

  He cocked his head. “There are strict laws in Utah, so I’m going to need you to turn around.” He grinned at me wickedly. Deep dimples appeared in his cheeks.

  “Sorry!” My cheeks burned and I whirled around and took a few steps away from the pool. The insanity of the last few days had done nothing to reduce my nerves around him. As I waited for him to get out, I stared at the glass doors to the suite. And found myself staring at his reflection. He was toweling off his legs. I’d never seen a guy totally naked. Especially not one like him.

  He turned to face me and I quickly shifted my eyes to my own reflection.

  And immediately regretted it.

  “You can look now,” he called out. “I’m sort of decent.”

  Alexander Ambrose was more than decent. He was heartbreaking. He sat cross-legged on the pristine white daybed next to the pool, hair combed back, towel around his waist, impenetrable black sunglasses on his face. I decided the best thing to do would be to look at the sky.

  Anywhere but at him.

  “Sit,” he ordered. I climbed up on the daybed and sat across from him, my legs tucked under me. He ran his hands through his hair again and wiped them off on his towel. “I just ordered us food—you must be starving.”

  When was the last time I’d eaten? “It’s the running from Russian gangsters diet. Works great.”

  He laughed. “Well, I am going to fix that, Lana Goodwin.” When he said my name, my stomach tightened. Say it again, Alexander.

  �
�Does my dad know where I am? Is he . . . he’s alive, right?”

  He nodded. “I talked to John this morning. He’s much better, now that you’re safe.”

  “Oh, I’m safe now?” We were in the middle of nowhere, but they were still out there looking for me. “You’re trained to fight Russian assassins?” They weren’t going to give up just because I’d knocked Victor out cold and sent Arkady plummeting to his death.

  They’d be mad.

  They’d want revenge.

  He dried his chest with a corner of his towel. I imagined the warmth of his smooth skin—or would it be cool to the touch after swimming? I kept my eyes fixed on his face and swallowed.

  “As long as you’re with me, you’re safe,” he said. He leaned down to get something out of the silver ice bucket next to the daybed. When he did, I got a closer look at his tattoo. It looked like an eagle of some kind holding a ribbon or flag in its beak. There was writing on the ribbon. “As I recall, your first mistake was running off and driving through the desert by yourself.” Was he kidding?

  “You don’t get it! They’re going to kill me—but first they’re going to kill you.”

  He handed me an ice-cold bottle of water. “Lana, calm down. You’ve had a rough few days. Don’t get excited.” A few drops of water hit my thigh where my robe had fallen open. I smoothed the fabric over my legs and caught him watching my hands.

  “You don’t understand,” I said softly. A dark expression flitted across his face. He spoke again and his voice had a sharp edge.

  “Where were you going in that police car? And why did it crash?”

  “You saw it?”

  “Yep. I was following you. He swerved off the road and smashed into a ravine.”

  Bile rose in my throat. “Wade Jenner—the cop—is her boyfriend. She is not the loving stepmother she pretends to be.”

  He rubbed his chin, then stood up and paced back and forth. His jawline was masculine and perfect. From any angle, he almost hurt to look at.

  “Did you check to see if they were hurt?” I asked.

  “I ran over to look. It was dark and hard to see, but I heard Ramona yelling at him, so I knew she was fine. I couldn’t see the cop. You were in worse shape—hysterical, bleeding. Then you fainted. I called 911 to report the accident and got you out of there.” He looked at me. “You worried about Ramona?”

  “Yeah. I’m worried she’s not dead.”

  He reacted to this with a low whistle. “And to think, just a few days ago I was enjoying a swanky graduation party at a fancy all-girls school with my innocent little cousin—” he smirked at me— “and the next thing I know all hell breaks loose, people are trying to kill her, and she’s skipped town in a vintage Ferrari Maranello. Rare navy-blue edition.” He held out his water bottle and clinked it with mine. “Extra bonus points for that, by the way. Naturally the daughter of racing legend John Goodwin runs from the bad guys in style.”

  Style? There was nothing stylish about the last few days.

  “My dad gave it to me for my birthday and I’ve already lost it. Which is why teenagers should not have Ferraris.” I’d last seen it in the desert with its tires slashed.

  If I lived to see my dad again, he was going to kill me.

  He laughed. “You’re an heiress for five minutes and you’re already trashing sports cars.” He shook his head and water droplets fell from his wet hair onto his tan shoulders. “When you’re not napping in them. Remember?” How could I forget? We’d first met that day at my dad’s car shop over Christmas break, when he’d come to look at an Aston Martin, and I’d fallen asleep reading in it.

  “I have to find that car, Alexander.”

  “Relax, I had my PI run the plates.”

  “PI?”

  “Private investigator. He’s good at finding other stuff, too.” He smiled. “Like long-lost cousins.” I remembered Severine telling me she’d used a detective to locate me. “He’s the one who noticed the birthdate on Annie Goodwin’s headstone. She changed her name, but not her birthday.”

  If she was so easy to find, why’d it take them eighteen years?

  “The police have my car?”

  “They towed it. Tires were flat but otherwise it’s fine. I can have it shipped anywhere you want. But Lana . . . ” He leaned in closer to me. “The cops know it belongs to your dad, so it’s only a matter of time before they track you down. They might want to talk to you.” Victor had vowed to kill my father if I went to the police. There was no way I was talking to any cop, ever, until Victor was dead or in jail. “In the meantime,” he continued, “maybe you can trade the Ferrari for something more practical. Like a pogo stick. Something safer.”

  I rolled my eyes. “I’m a fantastic driver.”

  He hooted with laughter. “Definitely not what I expected in my long-lost third cousin. I don’t know many girls who decide to cut their own hair.”

  I tried in vain to smooth my spiky hairdo down. “Yeah, it’s a long story.” He still didn’t understand what he’d walked into. Victor, my dad’s heart attack, a wild car chase through the desert, my evil stepmother, and the inconvenient fact I was maybe, sort of . . . a murderer.

  “You can at least tell me what happened the morning after your graduation. When you took off and left me hanging. And what your stepmother’s role in all this is. I mean, I know stepparents can be assholes, but what’s Ramona’s deal?”

  I shuddered thinking about my last encounter with Victor. The offer he’d made me, him trying to touch me, the fight, the heavy vase flying through the air and knocking him unconscious. I picked a piece of fuzz off the cuff of my robe and bit my lip. Arkady’s sickening scream falling off the cliff. The horrible crunch as he hit, the blood staining the rocks below. My stomach churned.

  “Later, okay? I’ll tell you later.” I squeezed my eyes shut as the patio started to swirl around me.

  “You better. I want to know everything about my new BFF.”

  “No, you really don’t.” My head started to hurt. I need to lay down. Weights started pulling on my hands and feet, like the Earth’s gravity had just gotten stronger and I was the only one who could feel it. “I’m sorry you got sucked into this mess. If you hadn’t been there that night on the road . . . I’d be dead.”

  After I said the words I realized how close I’d come.

  I also realized I had mixed feelings about being alive. Part of you has been dead since she died. The rest of you could join her. You’d be whole. You’d be happy. I blinked and looked away so he couldn’t see my tears. Did people who commit suicide go to heaven? The question had plagued me for years.

  He took my chin in his hand and turned my face towards his. I stared at my miserable reflection in his sunglasses. “I spent two days driving like a maniac to find you. I have the speeding tickets to prove it. When I heard on the news about that girl at the motel in Independence, I thought you were dead. I got to Valley of Fire just in time to see you getting in to a police car.”

  Something about his story bothered me. Victor had tracked me with his cell phone, which I’d stupidly taken with me and forgotten about. How had Alexander tracked me?

  “How did you where I’d be? I had no idea where I was going—I was being chased. How did you?”

  He took off his sunglasses and tossed them onto the daybed. His eyes bored into mine. “I just knew.”

  “How?”

  He smirked and pulled his sunglasses off. His eyes looked electric in the glittering light reflecting off the pool. “Do you believe in ghosts, Lana?”

  I remembered the flash of light off Arkady’s knife. The blade searing my flesh. The knife flying into my hand.

  By itself.

  Terrifying shards of information I’d gathered suddenly fit together into a perfectly formed blade and plunged itself into my heart. The light got brighter and then pale stone pavers were rising up to meet my head.

  “Whoa! Lana!” In a second I was in his arms and he was carrying me into the cool quiet of
the darkened suite. “Oh no,” he muttered.

  Reality swirled back into focus. “It’s okay, you can put me down!”

  “It’s not you! My towel’s about to fall off. No peeking!” I squeezed my eyes shut. He carried me all the way to my bed and tossed me down. “Stay here,” he growled.

  He returned wearing wrinkled linen shorts and a white t-shirt, which clung to his still-damp chest. His wet hair was combed back and there was a patch of stubble under his chin. If we really were cousins of some kind, I had clearly gotten the shorter end of that genetic stick. He plopped down next to me.

  “You have to take it easy.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t be on vacation right now. You found me. They can find me. We need to leave the hotel—now.”

  His face was so close to mine I started to feel dizzy again. He rested a hand on my non-bandaged shoulder. “It’s going to be okay. Is your shoulder hurting you?”

  I bit my lip and shook my head. “It’s not that. I’m scared. And I’m so tired.” I dissolved into tears. His eyes went wide and he wrapped me in a bear hug. My arms clutched his neck and deep, wracking sobs shook my body. He stroked my head and rocked back and forth. His body was warm and strong and I forgot that I was half in love with him and that I was the girl who had nothing and no one.

  His mouth was next to my ear and he whispered, “Here—didn’t want you to think I stole it.”

  He held his fist out and unfurled his fingers. There was my diamond dove, curled up in its platinum chain. In the low light of the room, the enormous diamond glowed as if lit from within. The dove’s bright emerald eye twinkled like it recognized me.

  I clapped my hands together in delight. “I thought I lost it!”

  He leaned forward and slipped it over my head. “Severine was very interested in this necklace. Don’t take it off again. Now lay back and rest. Doctor Ambrose’s orders. Breakfast should be here any minute.”

  #

  When I woke up from my post-breakfast nap, it was nearly dark outside. 100 milligrams of Vicodin and six blueberry pancakes will do that. I crawled out of the silken comfort of my bed, almost tripped on the room service tray on the floor, and snuck into the bathroom. I peeled off my underwear and tank top and examined my wounds. The big bruise on my ribs had faded to pale purple. I had a painful contusion of some sort and various cuts on my back. My struggle with Arkady had been life and death, and my skin showed it. At least my left arm was semi-functional again.