Tag, You're It! (22 page)

"'Maybe it's the remains of a wooden structure," he suggested.

"It's definitely man-made."

Franky was still sitting in the dirt, digging one grubby nail into the palm of his hand. Mick had wandered back to the top of the hill behind them and stood so he could just see over the top of it. Watching for Rusty, Alex figured, then she put them all out of her mind.

"I don't think it was a building," she said to Tag. "Look at the ground inside, it's pretty rough."

"If this site was about gold, they wouldn't have bothered with wood floors."

"They wouldn't have bothered with wood buildings. If they had, the floor would have been dirt, but it would have been level, at least. This follows the slope of the hill."

"And?"

"I think this was a corral. There were dozens of temporary settlements peppered throughout the area around the gold fields. Juan labeled this
riachuelo de Smith
. The Smith part is obvious;
riachuelo
translates as 'stream' or 'creek,' which makes sense. Back then there was water running through here that would have washed some gold down out of the mountains. Mr. Smith and whoever was with him would have needed a place to keep the horses, but they wouldn't have built permanent housing just to pan for gold. They would have lived in tents."

"You think Juan might have been one of them?" Tag asked.

"Possibly. We couldn't find a claim filed for him at the National Archives, and the sack attached to the map contained gold dust, which would indicate panning instead of placer or lode mining. Maybe we should dig some exploratory holes, just to see what we find." She didn't honestly think anything was there. Even if there was, the chance of them stumbling across it was practically zero because there was nothing to indicate a possible hiding place, on the map or at the site. But there was still an opportunity there. "There're four corners," she said, "let's each take one."

"I ain't digging no holes," Franky said. "My hand hurts."

"It's just a sliver," Alex said. "Jeez, my little sister is more of a man than you are."

Franky jumped to his feet, both hands fisting.

Tag grabbed Alex by the arm and pulled her aside. "This is the first I've heard of a sister."

"That's because I don't have one."

"What are you up to?"

"It's pretty obvious," she said, pulling her arm out of his grip. "And you're not a man who can't figure things out for himself. I seem to always be one step behind. I'm just trying to catch up."

She turned away. Tag's hand slid down her arm to close around her wrist. She didn't turn back, but she stopped.

"There are some things going on here that I don't understand yet," he said.

"But you know more than I do."

"You're right" he said quietly. "I'm keeping things from you, but I have good reasons. If you do something stupid—"

"It's too late for that," she said and walked away.

Falling in love with him wasn't the smartest thing she'd ever done, but that was involuntary. Compounding her lunacy with blind trust would be the supreme act of stupidity, and that she wasn't prepared to commit.

TAG COULD FEEL THE WHOLE CASE SPINNING INTO the toilet. Everything appeared normal, but it was going down the crapper, sure as shit. They made camp and opened a couple of cans for dinner. The three men were having pork and beans. Alex was having Franky.

She had a plan, Tag concluded, and it consisted of gnawing holes in Franky's patience and self-control, in the hope that information would come spewing out of him volcano fashion. There wasn't a whole lot of patience and self-control there to begin with; she'd be damn lucky if he didn't explode all over her in the process. Or maybe she was counting on Tag and Mick to run interference.

They'd been trying like hell to. Tag had attempted to take her aside but she wasn't having any of it, and it was kind of hard to talk sense into her if she wouldn't talk to him at all. He'd thought about gagging her, but it was to the point where just the way she looked at Franky was enough to make him mutter and squirm.

Mick wasn't having much luck either, but Tag had to give him credit for his persistence. And optimism. "So where do we stand?" Mick asked Alex the next time she drew a bead on Franky.

"We'll go to the third site tomorrow," she said. "It's south of here, back into the rockier terrain like we searched yesterday." Her gaze shifted to Franky. "Not great on horseback, but it shouldn't take us more than two days to work our way through it."

"Two days! Aw, Mick…"

"Shut up, Franky."

"Why we gotta do this anymore? We already been out here two days, ain't that enough?"

"Enough for what?" Tag asked.

"What's the matter?" Alex said in a tone of voice that was all the more infuriating for its casual matter-of-factness. "Can't handle a little physical exertion, Franky? You've got kind of a low pain threshold for a guy in your line of work."

"I ain't usually the one in pain."

"And when you are you turn into a whiny, sniveling baby."

Franky spiked his plate onto the ground and took to his feet, looming over Alex. Mick jumped up and planted both hands in his chest, shoving him back a couple of steps. "Back off," he said, then he whipped around to loom over Alex himself. "And you shut your trap."

If she was afraid she kept it to herself, right down to the slight, derisive smile on her face. "Or?"

"Or I'll shoot you."

She laughed, her gaze going to the guns. Mick usually kept them out of sight, but tonight Alex's rifle was propped on a handy rock next to his blanket—in honor of Rusty and his friends, Tag figured.

"That threat might work coming from Franky," Alex said. "If I thought he had the guts to do it."

Franky's response was an inarticulate roar. He shoved Mick aside, hands out, going for Alex's throat when Tag threw himself in the way. Thankfully, Mick took a side and between the two of them they were able to drag Franky away from her.

Alex followed, as that didn't suit her purposes. "You think you're sick of this after two days?" she asked, getting back in Franky's face. "I've been manipulated and lied to and pushed around for nearly a week now."

"You kicked me in the balls," Franky countered. "Do you have any idea what it's like to ride a horse when your balls are sore?"

I do, Tag thought, but Alex was on a roll, and he was beginning to think she might actually get something out of Franky besides whining and sniveling—to use her terms.

"I don't have balls," she said, "which I've always considered a huge advantage. But I know what it's like to ride a horse with a knife wound. And I know how it feels to be abducted, held at gunpoint, and forced to search for treasure."

"You think I'm having a picnic here? I had to ride a horse—"

"Trust me, your horse isn't enjoying it either."

"—and move rocks all day and now you're planning to walk me to death."

"Shut up, Franky," Mick said, but Tag could tell his heart wasn't in it anymore.

Tag knew how he felt. Trying to stop Alex was like attempting to bail out the
Titanic
with a teaspoon. Franky would be the iceberg in that scenario, big and brainless, an accident waiting to happen.

"And let's not forget I was nearly frozen to death. Twice," he said. "Top that."

"I was… wait," Alex said, "what do you mean you were nearly frozen to death?"

"They tried to steal the map," Tag reminded her, mentally bailing like hell.

"That was them?"

"You mean you didn't recognize me?" Franky said.

"I wasn't looking at your face. Maybe if you take your pants off."

He dropped his hands to his fly.

"She's kidding, jackass," Mick said.

From outside the circle of firelight, Jackass neighed.

"I don't think he appreciates the comparison," Alex said to Mick, then went right back at Franky. "When was the other time?"

Instead of answering her question he said, "Ow," because Mick gave him a shot to the head. "I musta been mistaken."

"You can't count, either? You can't ride a horse, it took you two tries to kidnap me, you're afraid of spiders and snakes, and you've spent the last two days complaining about everything. Is there anything you're good at?"

"Yeah," he growled right in her face, "lighting fires and shooting people. Too bad we didn't cap you and that damn horse when we smoked you out of that stupid cabin."

Tag closed his eyes, but he could see the wheels spinning in her head.

"That was you on the snowmobiles," she said.

"You shot me with a tranquilizer dart. I ain't paid you back for that yet, either."

Tag opened his eyes. Alex was staring at him. The look on her face was… bad. In so many ways. And it only got worse.

"That's why you almost froze to death," she said, her eyes on Tag, the hurt and betrayal in them growing deeper. Darker.

"Yeah, Mick dragged me over to your fire and kept me warm until I woke up," Franky said. "I guess it was lucky we firebombed your cabin."

"You were on the plane." Her words were for Franky, but the disgust in her voice was for herself, for being such a fool. "You pushed Tag off, and then you came back in a helicopter and burned my cabin down."

"Don't feel so good to be the only one who don't know what's going on, does it?"

"And you weren't supposed to tell her," Mick reminded Franky.

"Screw that. Mr. Harper wouldn't have brought her into this if he didn't want her to know it was him behind everything."

She went still, so still and pale. Almost lifeless. Except for her eyes.

"Alex—"

Her hands came up, both fisted. "Bennet Harper?"

"That would be him," Franky said, sounding pretty cheerful about it.

She stepped back until she had some distance from the three men. Putting herself on the other side. Her against them, and "them" included Tag. "You're working for Ben-net Harper," she said in a voice that sounded like the breath had been knocked out of her.

Tag knew how she felt. He wasn't out of breath, but he was definitely out of ideas. He couldn't deny working for Harper, not in front of Mick and Franky, but he couldn't bring himself to admit it, either. Unfortunately, there was an expiration date on the question, and silence was as good as an admission.

He saw Alex's gaze flick to the guns a split second beshe moved. She ducked around Mick and elbowed Franky in the gut on the way by. Tag made a grab for her; she made a grab for the rifle. She won, spinning and racking a shell into the chamber, all in one slick move fueled by fury more than self-preservation. All three of the men ended up on the business end of the Winchester. Tag couldn't help but notice it was pointed directly at him.

Time drew out like a razor. He'd faced down Uzis in the hands of drug-dealing gang members, but the look in her eyes tied his colon in greasy, cramping knots. Under normal circumstances he'd have bet his life she wouldn't shoot him. The circumstances, however, weren't normal, and he felt like more than his life was at stake. How much more didn't bear tabulating.

Before he could get his mind functioning beyond the impossibility of the situation, she whipped around and ran out of the circle of firelight, hooking Jackass's saddle on the way. Franky made to chase after her. Tag stopped him.

"Let her go," Mick said, "we done what we came to do."

"And what's that?" Tag asked, well aware of the fact that Alex was getting ready to take off. Without him.

There was no answer, and Tag didn't have time to play nice. He caught Franky by the front of his shirt, and pulled the gun from his shoulder holster. "You guys were in a big hurry to get us out here, but you've been complaining and slowing us down ever since. You don't give a shit if we find the treasure."

Franky grinned. "You found it, and you ran off with it. We tried to stop you, but…" He spread his hands and looked down at his gun in Tag's hand. "Harper is already telling his investors how you made off with their gold."

Suddenly Tag could understand exactly how Alex felt. Maybe the same depth of betrayal wasn't there, but the world was crashing around him—around them. 'There never was a treasure. Alex and I are the scapegoats to get Harper off the hook with his investors."

"Sorry man," Mick said. "Under other circumstances I think we coulda been friends."

Under other circumstances Mick and Franky wouldn't even be there. If Harper hadn't lost faith in him at the meeting in Denver, hadn't figured out that Tag had feelings for Alex, he would have revealed that he was trying to set her up. He would have enlisted Tag's aid, and his hired muscle wouldn't have been necessary. Knowing the score would have put Tag in the driver's seat. Instead, he'd lost focus and given too much away. And probably gotten them both killed. Just like Zukey.

"It would've been nice to partner with somebody who uses his brain instead of his mouth," Mick said.

"Hey, what's this, bash Franky day?"

Mick shook his head and handed Tag back his Ruger. "You could shoot us," he said when Tag looked like he was considering just that, "but it would only make Harper's story more convincing."

"We found the treasure and took off with it—after killing the witnesses." Yep, they were well and truly screwed. "Mind telling me who the investor is?"

"What investor?"

"The one Harper's so afraid of that he had to concoct this fiasco."

Mick shrugged. "Don't know. But you're right, Harper is afraid of him."

"Is Dussaud working for him?"

"Yeah."

"You wasn't supposed to tell him that," Franky said.

"You shoot your mouth off to Harper and I'll cap your ass myself." Mick turned to Tag. "You oughta go after her. Maybe the two of you can disappear and stay alive."

Tag had no intention of disappearing, but he was determined to stay alive. Unless Alex killed him.

ALEX COULD HEAR TAG TALKING WHILE SHE SADDLED Jackass. The part of her brain still functioning past the fury was yelling at her to nurse her broken heart later and save her life now by listening to their conversation. But she couldn't even stand the sound of his voice. Realizing that she wanted him to come after her didn't help matters.

She dragged herself into the saddle, feeling like she weighed a ton, then clapped her heels to Jackass's sides and took off. She didn't look back.

Jackass was the one who balked, his gait lagging so often she swore at him. He stopped altogether then, stamp-ing and blowing, swinging his head around and looking wounded.

"It better be Angel you don't want to leave," Alex told him. But she knew Jackass had accepted Tag. Just like she had in Denver. Right after he got back from his secret meeting with Bennet Harper.

God, she hated that thought, hated feeling like a fool, because truth was, she blamed herself as much as Tag. She'd thrown herself at him, and then she'd unloaded all over him. She couldn't fault him for taking what she'd willingly offered. The minute she mentioned Harper's name it was a wonder he hadn't disappeared for good…

Why hadn't he disappeared? For that matter, why would Bennet Harper toss Tag out of a plane if Tag was working for him? Not that it wasn't just like the bastard. Bennet loved games, loved to screw with other people's lives, and he hated it when someone went against him. Maybe that was what Tag had done. Maybe he'd gone against Bennet and gotten himself thrown out of that plane. Or maybe Bennet had done it so she'd take pity on Tag. It was hard to feel threatened by someone you pitied.

It made sense. Now that she looked back, none of the threats were actually… life threatening. Tag landing in her valley, her cabin being firebombed. Mick and Franky cerweren't a threat. No, Bennet had been playing games with her all along, but that was going to stop because the first thing on her agenda was to find him and end this thing once and for all. And not with a gun. Much as she liked the finality of that solution, she'd be damned if she went to jail on account of his sorry ass.

She'd ruin him this time. And she knew just how to do it. If she lived long enough.

Hands grabbed her out of the darkness. The reins were torn out of her grip, and Jackass began to kick and fight, nearly ejecting her from the saddle. There was a lot of yelling and swearing, some hers, some in a male voice. Alex went for her rifle and ended up in a wicked fight for it. Somebody was pulling on it from the barrel end. Alex struggled to keep a grip on the stock with her sweat-slick hand, without pulling the trigger. Kicking Franky in the balls by mistake was one thing; accidentally blowing somebody's head off wasn't on her list of mistakes she wanted to make.