Tag, You're It!

by Penny McCall

  Alex rolled her eyes, untied her snowshoes from Jackass’s saddle and tossed them down in the snow. “Put these on.”

  He glanced over at the sled and then shrugged. “It’ll be a change of scenery, anyway.”

  Jackass turned his head, baring his big, square yellow teeth in Tag’s direction.

  “I think you hurt Jackass’s feelings.”

  “Aw, that just breaks my heart.” Tag stepped toward the snowshoes—which took him closer to Alex. Which Jackass didn’t like. Tag had to jump out of the way before the horse could take a chunk out of his ass. “I can see why you named him Jackass.”

  “That’s not why.”

  He waited for her to elaborate, but he could have saved himself the trouble. She wasn’t the average woman who felt the need to talk a man to death. But she was normal enough to get a kick out of him asking, and he wouldn’t give her the satisfaction. “If I didn’t know better, I’d say your horse is the jealous type.”

  “Horses don’t have a lot of self-control,” Alex told Tag. “If he was the jealous type, you’d probably be a lot less happy about being behind him the last couple of hours.”

  “Good point.” But Tag kept an eye on Jackass while he strapped on the snowshoes. He flexed his knees a couple of times and, lulled into a false sense of confidence by the way he stayed pretty much on the surface of the snow, took a step. And fell on his face.

  Alex laughed outright. So did Jackass—okay, he bared his teeth and whinnied, but Tag took it for the equivalent of equine laughter.

  Alex helped him up, shaking her head and chuckling at the sight of him standing there, feet about a yard apart, arms outspread for balance. “You’ve never used snowshoes before?”

  “Not a lot of treasure hunting goes on in the winter. The only time I had to do any winter work, it was on a snowmobile.”

  “Kind of hard to track anything wild on one of those,” Alex pointed out unnecessarily, adding, “just keep it natural,” as she took Jackass’s lead and headed off.

  Tag took a cautious step. The snowshoes tangled up and he sprawled on his face, Jerry Lewis without the laugh track.

  “You have to keep your feet far enough apart so the shoes don’t hit your legs midstride,” Alex said, coming back to him. She knelt in front of him and tapped the inside of his right knee until his feet were where she wanted them. When she looked up he was grinning at her.

  “In your dreams,” she said.

  “Maybe if you ever let me sleep again.”

  “You fell out of a plane and got my cabin firebombed, and then you didn’t even shoot the guys who did it. If anybody is keeping anybody from sleeping around here, it’s you.”

  She stood and set off again, leaving him to flounder along in her wake. When he got to the point where he was only falling down every five or six steps, he felt like he was making progress. Alex, however, finally felt the urge to assault him.

  “When you get to a deep spot, lift your knees a bit higher and shorten your stride,” she said without looking back at him.

  “It’s annoying how you know what I’m doing without looking at me.”

  “Who needs to look? You’re making enough noise to single-handedly end hibernation. Every time you fall down you swear, and you puff like a steam engine when you’re trying to get your feet under you again.”

  Tag righted himself, concentrating so hard on staying silent that he fell over with the first step.

  Jackass laughed at him again.

  “And try not to let the snowshoes hit in the middle,” Alex said.

  “Any other brilliant observations?”

  “Falling down is bad.” He could almost hear her smiling.

  “Thanks,” he said, struggling to his feet again.

  He lost track of the number of times he fell after that. It felt like an eternity, but it was probably about an hour. He was soaked from head to toe, but he wasn’t cold anymore. He was warm—steaming, as a matter of fact.

  Alex was leading Jackass about fifty yards ahead of Tag. Her feet were sinking in to midcalf but she didn’t seem to be laboring at all. That didn’t improve his temper any. He chugged along in her wake, eyes glued to her back, resenting the hell out of her and her horse.

  Bad enough being in the middle of nowhere, unarmed, and out of contact with people he trusted, he had to get dropped on a stubborn, irritating hellion of a woman who had no real appreciation for the predicament they were in. True, she’d saved his life, and sure, she had no idea she was in a predicament. But a helicopter had just lit up her cabin and sent two guys on snowmobiles after them, and did she get hysterical, or panicky, or whiny? No. Not that he wanted panic and whining, and hysteria never did anyone any good. But sarcasm and snottiness? Who in their right mind reacted that way in a dangerous situation? It just wasn’t normal. And it definitely wasn’t helpful. Hell, it was downright counterproductive. On top of which she seemed to take pride in being as antagonistic as possible.

  Not that he blamed her, considering his grand entrance, and the subsequent violence. Then there was the fact that he was the proud owner of Y chromosomes, which in her book was probably the biggest infraction. No wonder she wanted to see the last of him.

  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 topology of 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.

  Chapter Five

  “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 break a 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 snapp
ed 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 stumbled backward, 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.