now."
"You're not even curious?"
"Okay, fine. What's this new information?"
"Uh-uh. You come on board as my guide—my partner," he amended hastily when she shot him a look, "then I'll tell you."
"What makes you think I'd be any good as a guide?"
"You know the area."
She gave him a long stare, which he took as encouragement.
"You seemed to be pretty settled into the cabin," he said. "Your maps were dog-eared, so I figure you've lived here for a while. You've been walking for at least two miles through a foot of snow and you're not winded, so you must be used to physical exertion. You probably hiked the hills and canyons around here extensively, tracking mountain lions. And that means you have to be familiar with this area. You drew some pretty accurate conclusions about what went on in the plane, which means you're observant."
"And what do I get out of it, supposing I thought it was possible to find the Lost Spaniard?"
"You get half the treasure," he said. "You'll be able to rebuild your cabin and shun all human contact for as long as you want."
"Sounds good except for one thing. I don't trust you."
"I can live with that. And from your side of things, isn't that better? You don't trust me, so you'll keep your eyes open. If you're being vigilant there's less chance you'll get cheated once we find the treasure."
"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"
"You keep coming up with questions. I'm just trying to be helpful."
"You've been so helpful that I'm homeless."
And penniless, Tag thought, or close to it. "Then you have nothing to lose," he said quietly, without the sarcasm that would have put her hackles up again. And sure, he felt bad that her cabin had burned down, even if it worked in his favor. If he could just get her to turn off that brain, he could tap into her emotions and get her to do whatever he wanted. "You can go to your family or whoever funded your research and ask for money," he said, appealing to her pride next, "or you can come with me and look for the treasure. If it doesn't pan out, all it's cost you is time."
There was a moment of silence, a moment when Tag could all but feel the hook settling into place.
"Sounds like you're pretty sure the treasure is around here," she said.
"The town we're going to is named Casteel."
"And you think it's named after the region in Spain."
He smiled. "Should have known you'd make that connection."
"A lot of people have made that connection. Why do you think the search around here has been so intense?" Alex stopped walking and turned to him. She'd clearly been thinking again. That always meant trouble.
"Don't try to overthink it, Alex. The map—"
"So you have a map that dates back to the Colorado gold rush. What I said before still goes. If whatever cave the treasure was in hasn't collapsed by now, it would've been found."
"Are you so sure of that?"
Alex didn't answer, but the silence spoke volumes. "What I'm not sure of," she said after a moment, "is what you're doing here. There's no airport close by—"
"Shhh."
They stood there for a minute, breath fogging on the night air, listening to the sound of the wind clattering through the bare tree branches.
"I don't hear anything," Alex said.
Tag held up a hand, cocking his head. "There," he whispered.
Alex met his gaze, her eyes wide and shining in the darkness. "Yeah, I hear it now," she said, managing to sound grim despite barely breathing the words.
It was the sound of yet another engine, and it was headed their way.
Chapter Five
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"IT'S A SNOWMOBILE," TAG SAID, NOT WHISPERING, but keeping his voice down.
Alex pulled Jackass into a thicket of trees and stood with one hand on the butt of her rifle, which was still tucked into the saddle holster.
The only cover they had was the darkness, but the clouds had thinned enough to let a sliver of moon and a few stars shine through, and the snow was like a night vision scope, picking up every scintilla of ambient light. And
"You're not even curious?"
"Okay, fine. What's this new information?"
"Uh-uh. You come on board as my guide—my partner," he amended hastily when she shot him a look, "then I'll tell you."
"What makes you think I'd be any good as a guide?"
"You know the area."
She gave him a long stare, which he took as encouragement.
"You seemed to be pretty settled into the cabin," he said. "Your maps were dog-eared, so I figure you've lived here for a while. You've been walking for at least two miles through a foot of snow and you're not winded, so you must be used to physical exertion. You probably hiked the hills and canyons around here extensively, tracking mountain lions. And that means you have to be familiar with this area. You drew some pretty accurate conclusions about what went on in the plane, which means you're observant."
"And what do I get out of it, supposing I thought it was possible to find the Lost Spaniard?"
"You get half the treasure," he said. "You'll be able to rebuild your cabin and shun all human contact for as long as you want."
"Sounds good except for one thing. I don't trust you."
"I can live with that. And from your side of things, isn't that better? You don't trust me, so you'll keep your eyes open. If you're being vigilant there's less chance you'll get cheated once we find the treasure."
"You have an answer for everything, don't you?"
"You keep coming up with questions. I'm just trying to be helpful."
"You've been so helpful that I'm homeless."
And penniless, Tag thought, or close to it. "Then you have nothing to lose," he said quietly, without the sarcasm that would have put her hackles up again. And sure, he felt bad that her cabin had burned down, even if it worked in his favor. If he could just get her to turn off that brain, he could tap into her emotions and get her to do whatever he wanted. "You can go to your family or whoever funded your research and ask for money," he said, appealing to her pride next, "or you can come with me and look for the treasure. If it doesn't pan out, all it's cost you is time."
There was a moment of silence, a moment when Tag could all but feel the hook settling into place.
"Sounds like you're pretty sure the treasure is around here," she said.
"The town we're going to is named Casteel."
"And you think it's named after the region in Spain."
He smiled. "Should have known you'd make that connection."
"A lot of people have made that connection. Why do you think the search around here has been so intense?" Alex stopped walking and turned to him. She'd clearly been thinking again. That always meant trouble.
"Don't try to overthink it, Alex. The map—"
"So you have a map that dates back to the Colorado gold rush. What I said before still goes. If whatever cave the treasure was in hasn't collapsed by now, it would've been found."
"Are you so sure of that?"
Alex didn't answer, but the silence spoke volumes. "What I'm not sure of," she said after a moment, "is what you're doing here. There's no airport close by—"
"Shhh."
They stood there for a minute, breath fogging on the night air, listening to the sound of the wind clattering through the bare tree branches.
"I don't hear anything," Alex said.
Tag held up a hand, cocking his head. "There," he whispered.
Alex met his gaze, her eyes wide and shining in the darkness. "Yeah, I hear it now," she said, managing to sound grim despite barely breathing the words.
It was the sound of yet another engine, and it was headed their way.
Chapter Five
Previous Top Next
"IT'S A SNOWMOBILE," TAG SAID, NOT WHISPERING, but keeping his voice down.
Alex pulled Jackass into a thicket of trees and stood with one hand on the butt of her rifle, which was still tucked into the saddle holster.
The only cover they had was the darkness, but the clouds had thinned enough to let a sliver of moon and a few stars shine through, and the snow was like a night vision scope, picking up every scintilla of ambient light. And
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