Tag, You're It! (5 page)

Problem was, he had to convince her to stick around. For some reason she was a critical part of this fiasco. He didn't know why, but at least he understood what was at stake. Alex had no clue. The firebombing had proved that. If she'd been a willing participant, it wouldn't have been necessary to burn her out of her house to push her into helping him.

Which meant she was a pawn, and the guys in the plane weren't the only ones using her. Tag was, too. He even felt bad about it. Sort of.

She flashed the light in his direction, giving him a long, appraising look over her shoulder. "You're getting the hang of it," she said, and Tag realized that once he stopped over-thinking every footfall, walking on snowshoes wasn't such a big deal.

"Yeah, seems to be getting easier," he said, feeling daring enough to trot a bit so he could catch up and walk next to her.

Jackass reached around behind her and nipped at Tag again. Alex found that vastly amusing.

Tag didn't. "Stupid horse," he said.

"I think the feeling is mutual."

Since Tag knew where that kind of comment would lead, he decided it was time to change the subject. "Why aren't you grilling me about the Lost Spaniard?"

"Because it's a pipe dream."

"You don't believe it exists?"

"I didn't say that. All those old cowboy stories are based in fact."

"But you don't think we can find it."

"No," she said, flat absolute, no room for argument.

"Just no? That's all?"

"You want reasons? I'll give you reasons. It's been a hundred and fifty years since Juan Amparo supposedly hid a cache of gold. Do you have any idea how much the toof this area has changed in that amount of time? Mudslides, rockfalls, erosion, and that's not including the man-made changes. And even if you managed to find it when everybody and their brother and their brother's maiden aunt has failed, it won't be the huge treasure you think it is. What people considered a fortune a century and a half ago isn't the same thing today."

"You're just a ray of sunshine."

"I'm sorry, did you want me to sugarcoat it?"

"I could do without the attitude in the future," he said.

"We don't have a future."

Famous last words, Tag thought. "Suppose I had new information?"

"I went through your pockets when I took your clothes off. There wasn't even a wallet."

"The guys on the plane took it."

"Well if it was in there—"

"It wasn't." Tag tapped his head. "It's in here."

"Great," Alex said, "I'm convinced 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.

"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 they'd left a trail a mile wide.

"If whoever it is crosses our path—"

"Yeah."

"Doesn't sound like our odds are very good."

"No." She sounded calm, but her breath was coming in hard little puffs that told him her adrenaline was surging just like his. And he knew just how to work it off.

"Since we're about to die anyway," he said as he closed the distance between them, putting her up against the nearest tree, and laying his mouth on hers.

He'd caught her completely by surprise, and when she tried to protest, he took advantage of it, deepening the kiss. Her hands came flat against his chest, but she didn't push him away. So he sank into her, his mind going blank as he gave in to the lust that had simmered in him from the moment he'd seen her in the cabin.

His fingers fumbled at the closings of her coat, and he had one leg between hers. He felt her soften against him, one hand began to creep toward his shoulder—and Jackass head-butted them.

Alex shoved Tag away and stepped closer to her horse, ripping her glove off to rub at her mouth. "What the hell was that?"

It took a second before Tag's mental processes kicked back in so he could tell her, but he couldn't tell her because what had started out as taking advantage of the situation had ended up as something else. Something entirely too stupid to think about.

If not for that damned horse he'd have had her on the ground, half-naked in the snow and to hell with freezing to death. To hell with the snowmobile, too, and to hell with this case, and the next one.

To hell with him.

He'd forgotten his duty once and someone had died; he wasn't going that route again.

"I figured if we were about to die," he said, making his voice light, teasing.

"We're not going to die."

"How good are you with that rifle?"

"If you do that again you're going to find out."

"At this distance you could hardly miss me."

She made a rude sound in the back of her throat. "I'd have to use my fist, since you haven't given me any cartridges."

"Oh. Right." He'd given her the rifle back because she had a place to carry it. He'd retained ownership of the cartridges.

"They're in your pocket," she reminded him.

"Yeah."

"Doesn't say much for your faith in me."

"It has nothing to do with my faith in you."

"You can hide behind Jackass if you want," Alex said, clearly amused, "but watch out for his feet. And don't try to kiss him."

"Glad you're enjoying yourself," Tag said. "Just my luck I had to get dropped on somebody like you."

"Who were you expecting in the middle of nowhere?"

"Miss USA," he muttered, just to mess with her.

"You ought to be grateful you got me instead," Alex said. "Miss USA wouldn't be stupid enough to risk breaka nail, let alone her life, to save yours."

"At least she wouldn't be stubborn and distrustful of everything and everybody. What the hell happened to make you so suspicious?"

"You really have to ask that?"

"I wasn't talking about today. I was talking about the past."

"You want to know about my past? For the last four years I've been right here, minding my own business, me and Jackass and the mountain lions. And then you fell on me and ruined my life."

He tried to reply but Alex came toe to toe with him, her voice carefully modulated, and very well aimed. "You think I'm stubborn and suspicious and distrustful? Those seem like pretty good qualities to have when a snake oil salesman like you shows up out of the blue, talking like fame and fortune can be had just like that," and she snapped her fingers under his nose. "Normal people—"

"Normal?" he scoffed. "A normal person doesn't live seventy-five miles from anywhere, talking to a horse."

"I'd rather talk to him than you any day of the week."

"Because he can't talk back and tell you what a wacko loner you are."

"I might be a wacko and a loner, but at least I'm not a gold-crazed mercenary who'd get mixed up with the kind of people who'd toss someone out of an airplane. With no parachute."

"I'm not in it for the money."

"Then you're an adrenaline junkie."

"And you're a horse lover."

"Con man."

"Pain in the ass."

They'd come to a verbal line neither of them wanted to cross, so they just stood there, inches apart, chests heaving hard enough to bump together. Their eyes met, Tag saw Alex's gaze drop to his mouth, and all his blood rushed south at the same time, leaving him light-headed. He stumbackward, and once his eyes had uncrossed he noticed that Alex wasn't exactly unaffected.

It should have made the situation better, knowing he wasn't the only one feeling… attraction, but Tag was wondering how the hell it had happened.

Alex Scott was clearly the guide he needed, but she could read him like a book. That took away a measure of his control. And pissed him off. Throw lust into that mix and he might as well forget about hanging on to his focus long enough to stay alive, let alone find the treasure. He'd already proven that once tonight; he'd better get a handle on it or they'd both regret it.

"The snowmobile is coming this way," Alex said. "And it's close."

Close enough they could see the headlight cutting through the darkness, and although the person on it was helmeted and dressed for arctic conditions, Alex said, "It's Matt."

Tag hung back, but she led Jackass out of the trees and into the path of the headlights. The sound of the engine throttled back to a throaty rumble, then changed direction slightly, heading their way.

In a few minutes Matt pulled up beside Alex and turned off the sled. "Started out about four a.m." he said. "Couldn't get you on the radio. Got worried. What are you doing out here?"

"The plane didn't come back," Alex said, "but a helicopter showed up and burned down my cabin."

Matt was off the snowmobile, ripping at his gloves, heading straight for Tag.

Alex stepped between them. "It's not his fault," she said to Matt.

"Like hell it's not. You could've been killed."

"So could he."

"My bet is he deserves it."

"Based on what?" Tag said.

Matt glared at Tag, but he spoke to Alex. "Got some information back on him. No record, but he gets around a lot for a guy who's on the up and up."

"Maybe I'm a salesman," Tag said, "maybe I'm a travel agent. Or maybe I just like to see new places."

"Are you finished?" Alex asked him.

"Yeah."

"Then tell him the truth."

"It's none of his business."

Alex smacked him on the arm, which stung since his skin was ice cold. "Fine," he snapped, "I'm looking for the Lost Spaniard."

Just like when he'd told Alex, there was a split second of stunned silence, then Matt threw his head back and laughed.

THE TOWN OF CASTEEL HAD SPREAD ITSELF HAPHAZARDLY along one side of a small valley with a shallow river running through it. The other side of the valley was public grazing land for the livestock owned by the town's residents. Once upon a time that had been a lot of animals. Nowadays not so much—not that the empty grassland had been converted to another use. Tradition was as much a part of the town as the mountains around it, and just as enduring. Being a resident of Casteel required a certain amount of resistance to change.

It also took a special kind of approach to life, eccenbeing a central theme. The place was filled with kooks, Alex thought fondly as they made their way down the final hill toward the bridge at the west end of town, and it didn't say much for her that some of those kooks thought she was strange for living alone up in the hills, communing with animals that could rip her to shreds. But they kept their opinions to themselves. At least when she was around. Discussing her with others, now that was another story. Literally.

Gossip was as much a part of daily activity in Casteel as breakfast, lunch, and dinner. These were simple people, with workdays that often outlasted the sun at both ends of the day. Except for television, there wasn't a whole lot in the way of entertainment to be had in such a small town. Who could blame them for having an overdeveloped interest in the lives of their friends and neighbors? And sure, the tale might be a little embellished by each subsequent narrator, but a person could live—or at least drink—off a choice tidbit of gossip for weeks.

So, when Matt, Alex, and Tag hit the edge of town, it was quite the event. Admittedly they were a strange procession, consisting, as they did, of a sheriff on a snowmobile, a zoologist on a horse, and a half-frozen, thoroughly pissed-off stranger on a sled.

Of course it was Tag who got the most attention, Alex noticed as they wended their way down the single main street, a small parade of Casteel residents queueing up bethem so they formed a little parade. Tag was back to sulking, when he wasn't shivering, although it was his own fault he'd ended up on the sled. He wouldn't ride behind Matt, and Matt wouldn't let him ride the snowmobile on his own. Tag couldn't get close enough to Jackass to climb into the saddle—not without losing a chunk of arm or leg—and he didn't last long on the snowshoes. He'd gotten the hang of them, but he didn't have the staying power after the day and night he'd been through. Neither would she, Alex had to admit, but Tag had only looked sour when she'd made that observation.

The sheriff's office was in the center of town, but it didn't take long to get there, since the town wasn't much over two miles long from end to end.

"You want to lie down in one of the cells?" Matt asked her once they'd gone inside. He started to open the door to the small back room that was subdivided into two cells. "You must be exhausted."

"I'm pretty tired," Alex agreed, "but I intend to have a huge breakfast and then I'll get a room at the Casteeley Inn and sleep for a couple days."

Matt's face fell. "You could stay with me," he said.

"In this town?" she teased. "Word runs through this place faster than a starving mountain lion on the chase."

"I never thought gossip bothered you."

"Doesn't," Alex said, "but I think it would bother Annabelle."

Matt looked away, the tips of his ears turning red. "You kept turning me down," he muttered.

"Maybe you should rename this Melrose Place." Tag was over by the wood-burning stove, turning like a chicken on a spit. When he rotated to face her, Alex saw that he was smirking.

But there was a glint in his eyes she didn't like. That glint looked like it concerned her, and her relationship with Matt, and Tag forcing himself on her in the forest. Okay, so it hadn't exactly been force, more like she'd been surprised. It hadn't exactly been unwelcome, either, but it had been stupid, and she especially didn't like feeling as though Tag Donovan was staking his territory.

"Peyton Place more your speed?" he said to Matt, clearly intent on picking a fight.

The flush spread from Matt's ears, encompassing his whole face, except for a white ring around his mouth where his lips were pressed tight together. One of his hands fisted, but the other ran over the badge on his chest and that seemed to steady him. Lucky for Tag.

"Haul out your wallet," Matt growled at him, "and sit down."

"He's not carrying a wallet," Alex said. "Or any other identification. Just a wad of cash."

Both men turned to her.

"I checked while he was unconscious."

Matt gave her a long stare. She returned it. Tag, thankkept silent.

"Doesn't matter anyway," Matt finally said. "Just about any form of ID can be faked these days." He sat back in his chair. "We're gonna get this treasure BS out of the way and then you can leave town."

"I don't want to leave town," Tag said.

"You aren't staying here," Matt informed him, calm but immoveable. "I can't find any wants or warrants on you. Or anyone matching your description. 'Bout the only thing I could arrest you for is stupidity, but that's what natural selection is for."

"It's a free country," Tag said. "I'm staying."

"So you can look for the Lost Spaniard?" Matt sneered.

"That's right."

"Smarter people than you have looked for that treasure, Donovan, people who know how to survive in the wilderness." Matt's gaze traveled over Tag's completely unsuitable clothing. "If none of them found the treasure, what makes you think you can?"

"He claims to have some new information," Alex said when Tag remained mulishly silent. "And he seems to think he can convince me to be his guide."

Matt's face went almost to scarlet, his fists clenched.