by Zoe York
He stood up and began pulling on his clothes. “I’ll go check it out. You should stay here.”
“No way.” She scrambled out of bed and stood in front of him, glorious and commanding for all that she was still completely naked. “I found the coordinates. This is my hunt, too.”
She’d be safer locked in here, he knew that. Especially if Nash still had guys on the island—which was a distinct possibility. But looking at her, at the fire in her eyes, he couldn’t tell her no. This was one part of his life she did understand—he could see it shining through her. And he wasn’t about to push that away.
“All right,” he said, grinning. “Let’s go find some fucking treasure.”
***
Charlotte was finally on the adventure she’d dreamed of.
The coordinates led to a point about four miles away from the city of Hvar, on a section of the island they’d quickly realized was undeveloped—though they learned after a quick stop at the Tourist Information Center by the wharf that there were a number of foot trails along that section of coast. To save time, they rented a motorized scooter to take them as far as the roads would go.
She asked to ride behind him on the scooter. She told him it was because she’d never ridden one before—which was true—but the truth was that she just wanted to be close to him. Their conversation in bed had left a knot in her stomach the size of a watermelon. She didn’t know what would ultimately happen between them, but in the meantime, she wanted to be as close to him as possible.
“You ready?” he asked over his shoulder as she settled onto the seat behind him.
She slid her arms around his waist and pressed herself against his back. He seemed so impossibly large—her cheek was pressed between his shoulder blades, and with all of the muscle he’d gained it was harder to put her arms around him than it had been a year ago—but she was coming to know this new body of his very well.
“Yes,” she said, breathing in the scent of him.
And they were off.
She held on for dear life as he zipped through the streets of Hvar. Her hair flew around her face, but she didn’t dare release her grip and try to tie it back. Through the waving strands, she watched the stone buildings of the city whiz by, and before she knew it, trees and brush replaced the storefronts and houses. Beyond the layers of green, she could see the aqua waters of the Adriatic Sea glinting in the sun. It was a gorgeous day, and she was hunting for treasure with Jackson, and she couldn’t have dreamed of anything more perfect.
This perfection won’t last forever, said a small, poisonous voice in her head. At some point, you’re going to have to think about your future. About your job. Your debts. Your real life.
But she shoved that voice down and clung more tightly to Jackson. She’d think about those things later. Right now, she was having her adventure.
She could have ridden behind him forever. But all too soon, Jackson pulled to the side of the road.
“This is as far west as the road goes,” he said. “The head of the trail should be around here.” She slid to the ground, and he parked the scooter behind a tree while she glanced around for any sign of a path.
They found it almost immediately. Jackson pulled out his phone and used the GPS system as a guide as he led them through the brush. Charlotte took the opportunity to look around. The vegetation here was so different from what she saw back home. Even the air smelled different. It was beautiful, and between the tangled branches above her head the sky was a brilliant cerulean blue. There wasn’t a cloud in sight.
Partway down the trail, Jackson slipped his hand in hers. It was a simple gesture, but it was so touching, so unexpected, that it made her heart skip a beat. She threaded her fingers through his.
“Do you think Vincent and his fiancée walked through here together?” she said.
He looked over at her, and one corner of his mouth tilted up. “I guess they would’ve, huh? Assuming we’re on the right track.”
“We are,” she said softly. “I can feel it in my bones.”
He squeezed her fingers, his smile broadening. Then, just as suddenly, he stopped dead in his tracks.
“What is it?” she asked.
He was looking down the path behind them, back toward the road. His entire body was on alert.
For a long moment, neither of them moved. Finally, his shoulders relaxed slightly.
“I thought I sensed movement back there,” he said. His hand tightened around hers. “It was probably just a bird.”
Still, he walked a little faster after that, and she kept his pace. The sun still shone down through the leaves and the air was still deliciously fragrant, but it felt like a shadow had been cast over their little outing. As much as he tried to hide it, Jackson was nervous. He threw as many glances back over his shoulder as he did down at the phone in his hand.
And then, just when she thought she couldn’t take anymore, he stopped again.
“We’re here,” he said. “We’ve reached the point on the map.”
Charlotte glanced around. They were at a bend in the main path, but straight ahead through the trees she could see the blue water of the bay down below. They appeared to be up on some sort of ridge over the water, and while the main path continued in an arc around the bay, it was clear that in the past people had picked their way through the brush right here to get a better view of the water below.
Carefully, she followed that makeshift trail through a large patch of rosemary, looking for anywhere someone might hide something. Behind her, Jackson was doing the same, poking around in the bushes. Watching him, she began to see where he far outpaced her in experience, even in something like this: he wasn’t just looking at things or in things—he was looking all around them. He would stop and stare up into the branches of a tree, or fiddle with a piece of bark on a stump, or even roll larger rocks onto their sides to peer beneath them. No detail seemed to escape his notice.
She tried to use a similar approach in her own search—but it was difficult, considering she had no idea what she was looking for. Was she hunting for something large or small? A briefcase stuffed with cash, maybe? Or a key to a safe deposit box in some unspecified city? The possibilities were endless.
And then she saw it—right in front of her, leaning over the edge of the cliff toward the bay, was a large olive tree with a star carved into its trunk.
At first she thought her eyes were tricking her. It was too perfect. Too easy.
Remember who created this adventure, she told herself. Vincent had left these clues for his fiancée. He hadn’t been trying to challenge professional treasure hunters. He’d been leaving a message for the woman he loved.
There was a lump in her throat as she stepped toward the tree. At the bottom of the trunk, between two large twists of root, there was a small opening, just large enough for a grown man’s hand. She dropped to her knees in front of the tree and peered inside.
“Jackson!” she called. “I think I found something!”
She reached into the hole, her fingers fumbling around in the dark until they hit something hard and smooth.
“Jackson!” she called again as she pulled the object out into the light. It was a large glass bottle, and it was stuffed with a dozen rolled up bits of paper. Was this what they were looking for?
She glanced back over her shoulder, but Jackson was nowhere to be seen. Cold washed down her spine.
“Jackson?” she called one more time as she stumbled to her feet.
This time she heard something—sounds of a struggle. Just up the path. Heart galloping, she gripped the bottle tightly and ran toward the noise.
Just around the bend in the trail, Jackson was grappling with a man. No—with two men. One of them had his arm around Jackson’s neck. The other was trying to hit him in the gut. But Jackson was holding his ground, landing punch after punch on his assailants as he twisted around.
She had to help him. She didn’t know how—short of hitting one over the head with the bottl
e, which was looking more and more like the best option—but then one looked up and saw her. Jackson did too.
“Run!” he said.
There was no time to debate her options. One of the men—the bigger one—had already released Jackson and was coming straight at her. They were blocking the way back to the road and the scooter, so she turned the other way and bolted down the trail, around the edge of the bay.
The man was fast—and he wasn’t wearing a dress and sandals like she was. He gained on her quickly, but she was smaller, so she diverted from the path and crashed her way through the brush, leaping over rocks and through bushes and under tree branches. She could hear him tearing along behind her, but she didn’t dare look back to see how close he was.
The bottle was still clutched in her hand. It was the only weapon she had. And the only reason they’re after us in the first place, she realized. Maybe she should turn around and give it to him. Stop this before she or Jackson got seriously hurt. But what’s to keep them from hurting you after you’ve handed it over? She remembered what Jackson had said to her about treasure hunters on that first night: Some will slit your throat as soon as look at you. Anyone who would follow and attack them in the woods probably fell into that category.
So she kept running. Kept weaving. It was the second time in a matter of days that she’d been chased by ruthless men, and she still had only the vaguest idea of what they were after.
Whatever you put in this bottle, Vincent, it better be worth it.
She’d already made it halfway around the bay, and still the man behind her showed no signs of slowing or tiring. Below their feet, the terrain was getting rockier. She needed to be careful, or else—
Her foot skidded out from beneath her, sliding on gravel. She caught herself before she could completely fall, but the stumble was enough to allow the man to gain on her. Two steps later, he was able to grab her, and her feet slipped out from under her again as his fingers curled into her arm and he yanked her back.
She yelped as her knees hit the ground. But her desperation to get away overrode the pain. She kicked at his leg, and he yowled and fell to the ground next to her. Her next kick hit him in the gut, but this time he was ready—he grabbed her ankle as she tried to crawl away from him.
“Give it to me, you little bitch!” he said, lunging forward and trying to grab the bottle.
She swung her arm out of his reach and spit in his face.
That only angered him. He yanked on her ankle—hard—and swung at her face. She was only just able to twist out of the way, and his fist slammed into the ground next to her head.
For a moment, she was stunned. No one had ever tried to hit her—truly hit her—and she knew that if his punch had landed, her nose would be in pieces right now. But even as that knowledge sank in, a gunshot rang through the woods—back from where she’d left Jackson and the other man.
Jackson.
Instantly, survival mode took over. There was no more thinking. Just instinct. Just desperation.
The man was mostly on top of her now, still scrabbling for the bottle. She brought up her leg and kneed him right where it mattered most.
He screeched and fell back, his hands cupping his injured manhood as he tried to curl into the fetal position. She didn’t waste the opportunity. She leaped to her feet and took off running again—or at least she tried. In a last-second attempt to stall her, he tried to grab her leg. His fingers dug into her calf, and though he didn’t manage to get a grip, the contact was enough to throw her off balance. She stumbled and fell forward.
Right over the edge of the cliff.
— EIGHT —
When he saw Charlie go over the cliff, Jackson’s vision went red.
He’d come upon them just in time to see the fucker try to grab Charlie’s leg. Just in time to see her stumble and fall. And in that second, his entire world had exploded.
In no time at all, he was on top of the bastard. Beating him. Trying to tear his head off.
But this man was bigger than his companion—who currently lay unconscious back on the trail. This man met Jackson punch for punch. Kick for kick. For every strike Jackson landed, he received one in return. And all the while in his head he kept seeing Charlie go over the cliff. Charlie, who was only here because of him. Charlie, who had somehow become his entire world.
Charlie…
His opponent got him in the ribs, knocking the breath right from his chest. He didn’t have time to recover, and the next swing swept him onto his back.
He hooked his leg around the larger man’s knee and pulled him down to the ground. He had to finish this guy. Had to get over the cliff and find Charlie. Even if it’s the last thing I do…
Suddenly, a CRACK sounded above him, and his opponent went rigid on top of him. For a long second, the man didn’t move at all, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward.
Jackson only just managed to get out of the way of the guy’s skull. He scrambled to his feet as the large man landed in an unconscious heap on the ground.
Charlie stood over them, chest heaving, a bottle in her hand—well, the remains of a bottle, anyway. The rest of it was in pieces on the ground. Apparently her makeshift weapon had broken when it hit its mark.
Instantly, he was beside her. He gave his opponent a small kick—just to make absolutely certain he was unconscious—and then he grabbed Charlie and crushed her against his chest. His hands roamed over her body and his lips went to her hair. She was here. In one piece. Apparently unharmed. Her arms went around him, too, and he could feel her shaking.
Thank God, he thought, tangling his fingers in her hair. Kissing her ear, her temple, her eyelids. Thank God she’s safe.
That was what he’d wanted all along—to keep her safe. To protect her from the dangerous parts of this life. If something ever happened to her, he didn’t know what he’d do.
His hands slid up her arms. There were scrapes and cuts all over her skin, and purple bruises were already beginning to form. Even though the injuries were far from life-threatening, every single one made the rage boil inside of him—rage at these men for harming her. Rage at himself for letting it happen.
Charlie’s hands moved up his back, searching his body as his hands searched hers. He wanted to go over her inch by inch, to take stock of every little wound for which he was responsible. And then take her back to the guest house and peel off all of her clothes and try to erase those injuries with his mouth and his touch.
He caught her face between his hands and tilted her head back. He had so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. Instead, his lips fell on hers, attacking her hungrily, letting her taste all of the things he didn’t know how to say. He couldn’t get enough of her. Never wanted her out of his sight, not even for a second.
She returned his kiss with equal passion, gripping him tightly and moaning softly against his mouth. She didn’t have to say anything. He could feel her fear and her relief and her joy and her desire through every place where their bodies met. It further stirred the need inside of him, and he found himself pushing her back toward the nearest tree, wanting her here and now in spite of the impracticalities.
It was Charlie who finally broke away, and though he didn’t try to kiss her again, he kept her in his arms. His hands returned to her face, his thumbs sweeping in a gentle arc across her cheeks. Her face was smudged with dirt, but her eyes shone.
“I thought you’d gone over the cliff,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers.
“I did.” Her voice was a croak. “But I didn’t go very far. It’s not as steep as it looks from here. A bush broke my fall, and I was able to climb back up.”
“And then take out this guy for me.” He couldn’t keep a smile from creeping over his lips. But the horror of the previous moments still haunted him. “Fuck, Charlie. If I’d lost you…”
“I know.” She laid her cheek against his chest.
For a long while, they just stood the
re with their arms around each other. What was he going to do? He refused to put her in a situation like this again. But the thought of letting her go back to Atlanta was equally repulsive. There was no good answer. Short of him leaving the Set, he could think of no solution that both kept her safe and kept them together.
Finally, Charlie pulled back again.
“I found something,” she said, slipping out of his arms. She bent over, picking through the bits of broken glass around their feet. Among the remains of the bottle were a number of rolled up bits of paper, each tied with a string.
“What are these?” he asked.
“I found this bottle in a tree with a star carved on the trunk,” she said. “I think this might have been what Vincent left.”
He’d forgotten all about their reason for coming out here in the first place. “Are you serious?”
Her face erupted in a smile that nearly blinded him. “Dead serious. Now help me make sure I don’t miss anything.”
Over the next few minutes, he helped her gather up the rolled up bundles of paper that had scattered around the unconscious man’s body. There were ten bundles—nine that looked like tiny little scrolls tied up with string, all roughly the same size, and one that was larger and misshapen.
He held the large one out to her. “Want to do the honors?”
She took the bundle out of his hand and turned it over on her palm. Her lips pursed as she studied it from every angle. Finally, she tugged at the string. The knot came apart easily, and the paper curled back.
Inside was a pile of diamonds.
“Oh my God,” Charlie breathed.
Jackson let out a whistle. But as Charlie shifted her hand, he realized they weren’t just looking at a horde of precious stones.
“It’s a necklace,” he said. He reached out and grabbed the chain peeking out from beneath the sparkling gems. As he lifted it, the links and clusters of diamonds fell into place, revealing the most elaborate piece of jewelry he’d ever seen.
