Page 10

Alright, that’s enough.
I assess the situation, then shoot my arm forward to the weakest point of Stone’s hold, the space between his fingers and thumb while they’re wrapped around my arm. It doesn’t hurt that he’s still preoccupied with his father when I slam my elbow into his chest. He stumbles, falling onto my rustic coffee table and sliding off onto his back. He gets up with a growl, his shoulders heaving. His father laughs. “I guess she out schooled you.”
The fire in Stone’s eyes burns brighter at his father’s comment. The destruction that’s happening in my bedroom stops and out walks Wyatt and Lucas, the former fixing his cowboy hat to sit properly on his head once more. The slight shake of Lucas’s head makes me certain they were looking for something, and no, they’re not going to find it. I was telling them the truth before. The most important details I know about the Superstition Mountains are in my head. The rest of it is somewhere no one will ever find.
I reach out for my laptop, but Lance pulls it just out of reach. “Let’s play a game. The game is called ruining the stupid girl who thinks she has options.” The amusement in his words sends a shudder through me. It’s one thing to fight about the treasure, to have a competition about who’s going to find it first, but this is a whole different matter altogether. I don’t know why I’m surprised. The Jacobs have always been the shadows lurking. “Saint Clary’s is everything to you right now. Am I right? It’s the only thing you had besides the hunt and your dad, and you don’t have those things anymore. I’m guessing it’s even how you’re eating.” Lance drifts his gaze to the fridge where Lucas yanks it open, revealing its bare interior.
I swallow. The lack of food is something I’ve tried not to think about. There’s just no money. I used what I had over the summer when I was still up in the mountains searching desperately for Dad when everyone else went home. I was relieved to go to school today because I knew I could eat. A banana sits in my bag right now that I took for dinner but didn’t need to eat because Dickie fed me. “I’d have food if your whore of an ex hadn’t taken off with our money.”
Stone’s gaze turns even more furious. He’s molten heat, ready to burn everything in his path like lava.
I don’t care.
Lance tsks and holds up his other hand. Lucas drops a manila folder into it that I hadn’t even noticed he’d been holding. Lance feathers through the paperwork and then tosses it onto my British Lit textbook. “This is my offer. I suggest you look through it and get back to me.”
“I don’t need to look at it. My answer is no.”
A tick in Lance’s jaw starts. Stone peeks at him, then returns his gaze to me, his stare never wavering.
Lance, though, gets even more agitated. His hands turn to fists. Before I can open my mouth to tell him to get fucked again, the almost same gray-blue eyes his son has sear into me. No, actually, his aren’t the same at all. They’re darker. Like a living nightmare. “You think I can’t make your life miserable if you don’t do as I say?” He grins, composing himself. “You think your scholarship is safe at Saint Clary’s?” The mirth in his eyes dances with unrestrained happiness while my life feels like it’s on a high wire. “Oh no, Miss Wilder, it’s not. You’re looking at one of the new donors to the school. I reckon they’ll do anything to keep their new funding.” He nods toward the files on the coffee table. “You can be a winner. Or you can be a loser.”
I let out a breath. I feel as if I’ve been knocked off my feet even though I’m still standing with the coffee table between me and them. It’s like we’ve drawn sides in a war. I’m the opposition. I don’t want to be on their side. I can’t. It goes against everything I believe.
“If you don’t do this, I’ll ruin your whole life, Dakota Wilder. Get back to me by tomorrow.” He strides from the room, my prehistoric laptop dangling from his fingers. The guys follow him, but Lance tells Wyatt to hang back, winking at me. “We have to make sure our precious commodity is safe before she makes the right decision.”
Wyatt closes the door behind his friends, admiring the splinters he put in the wood when he tried kicking it down. I can’t hold myself up anymore, so I slide to the couch at my back. I’ve heard of a lot of shit that goes on with treasure hunting. Most of it is old stories. Betrayal. Greed. I know some of it from first-hand experience, but this takes the cake. The Jacobs are threatening me.
Fuck me. The only thing I have left is college and now they want to take that away?
“You look like someone kicked your puppy.”
“Take this in the worst way you can possibly imagine,” I say. “Fuck. Off.”
I grab the manila folder and retreat to my bedroom. Slamming and locking the door behind me, I throw the contents of the folder on my bed. There’s no use trying to get him to leave. It doesn’t matter. He’ll be as miserable as me here anyway. I run my hands over my curls. I’d taken my hair out of the hair tie after the guys left the first time to try to alleviate the pounding drums in my head, but they’re back with a crescendo.
I’m almost scared to look at the contract. Even a peek is like backstabbing my family.
I stare up at the ceiling, closing my eyes tightly. “Seriously?” I say into thin air as hopelessness covers me like a shroud. Like it’s not enough that my father went missing a couple of months ago, now some guy with a god complex thinks he can buy my family’s legacy?
When two hundred million is on the line, people think with their pockets. My dad said that all the time. He wasn’t immune to it either. He had associates who funded some of our trips up the mountain. He spent so much time researching that he didn’t always have a steady paycheck, yet somehow, we always got by even if it was by a sliver. I can do the same. Pick up a job somewhere… Right. In an area that has one of the worst unemployment rates around?
I pick my way through the strewn clothes all over the floor and lie down on the newly unmade bed, propping my head up with my palm and moving the folder closer. Looking at this is siding with the devil. It might take care of my immediate problems, but it’s like signing my soul away and putting it into a monster’s hands.
6
Idreamt of wading through inky black oil that grew thicker and thicker until it was almost sludge. Ahead of me, a full moon rose in the distance over a beautiful sandy beach. No matter how hard I tried to reach the shore, the molasses-like substance moved around me, keeping me in place until I was just spinning my wheels, drowning in sorrow and worry.
If I had balls, the Jacobs would have me by them. Lance knows it. Stone and his friends know it. Now, I know it, too. Play their game or risk my life, basically. Maybe not in the physical sense but what about everything else? You have to work for a good life. It’s not just handed to you, especially for people like me. Lance knows that, and he’s using it against me. It’s a very real threat that I can’t take lightly no matter how much I want to tell him to just go fuck himself.
After getting ready the next morning, I listen at my bedroom door for a moment to see if I can hear any signs of Wyatt before going out into the main room. I’d imagine he’s still out there since Lance told him to stay and because the three boys will do anything he says. They always have.
I turn and pull the knob after silence greets me. The door opens with a slight creak. I tiptoe across the threadbare carpet, hoping I can just sneak out without Wyatt noticing. I need to meet with Dickie to see if he knows anything about Lance that I don’t. Then, I need to go to school because as of right now, I still have a school to go to.
I get partway through the living room, the door in sight, when a short snore pulls my attention away from escaping. I glance over at the couch to find Wyatt lying across the cushions. He’s only wearing his jeans, his black cowboy hat perched on his chest. In the early light of the morning, he doesn’t look like the guy who kicked my door in yesterday and used bolt cutters to snip the lock.
Yep, still not over that invasion of space. Or the mess they left in here. Assholes.
I swallow as I glance at the dips and planes of his abs. His naked torso peeks out from around the brim of his hat before dipping low, his jeans hiding everything south of his Adonis belt, that taper that makes women flutter their eyelashes. Heat consumes me as I wonder what it would be like to let this cowboy ride me until I remember he completely trashed my room yesterday. There’s a fine line between lust and hate, and I need to remember which side I fall on.