Tag, You're It!

by Penny McCall

  “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 before she 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.

&
nbsp; ———

  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, stamping 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 certainly weren’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.

  The gun popped free so fast she nearly set it off again, and suddenly Jackass was free, too. And he made the most of it. Someone yelped. Alex looked frantically around, spotting two men, black outlines in the weak starshine. One seemed to be cradling his arm. She did another quick check, bringing her eyes front in time to see the uninjured man moving toward Jackass again. She pointed the rifle at him and said, “If my horse doesn’t take your arm off, I will.”

  He took her seriously. And then he became a minor problem.

  “How many of my men do you think you can shoot before they triumph?”

  She’d really thought she’d run into Rusty and his pals. Junior was so much worse. “Do you really want to find out?”

  “You have but two bullets in your weapon.”

  “At this range it’ll take them both out.”

  “Which will leave you defenseless.”

  Jackass snorted.

  “My horse disagrees with you.” And he’d reminded her she had a problem if she was hoping to escape any time soon.

  She dismounted, careful to keep the gun leveled on Dussaud’s men as she retrieved Jackass’s reins and climbed back into the saddle. Not that she was concerned about controlling him, but if they had to make a run for it she didn’t want to have to worry about him stepping on the reins and her winding up with a broken neck.

  “What is it you expect will happen here, Alex?”

  “I expect you to let me leave.”

  “You stole from me.”

  “Even if you had the authority to detain me, you have no proof. I don’t have the map.”

  A flashlight popped on. Junior didn’t try to blind her with it, but he played it over her saddle, completely devoid of any packs or saddlebags. And she clearly wasn’t carrying the map on her since she wasn’t even wearing a jacket.

  More importantly, she gained some vital information from that flashlight, namely that three of Junior’s goons were flanking him and the other two were standing about twenty feet from her. With everyone accounted for, she could relax, at least a little, and maybe think her way out of this standoff.

  “Donovan has the map,” she said. “We didn’t find the treasure—but you already know that since you’ve been following us all along.”

  Junior chuckled. “Bravo.”

  Yeah, it had only taken her a week to get up to speed. “You were planning to steal the treasure. If we found it.”

  “And why should I not? The map was mine. If you had not robbed me the treasure would have been mine. Et voila, justice is served.”

  “And you don’t have to do any of the work.”

  “Even better.”

  “Well, be my guest. Donovan and his friends are that way.” She pointed over her shoulder. “You don’t need me.”

  “On the contrary. You are… leverage.” He gave it the French pronunciation, but it was still an ugly word, a word that would drag her back into proximity with Tag Donovan. The lying weasel.

  “Trust me, you don’t want me around if you expect to get anything useful from Donovan. I’m as likely to shoot him as you are.”

  “Trouble in paradise?” Junior asked, clearly amused.

  “Purgatory’s more like it.” Alex thought she caught movement out of the corner of her eye. Just a jackrabbit scared up by all the commotion, she figured. “You have an argument, it’s with Tag Donovan and his boss, Bennet Harper. He’s the brains behind this operation. I was just stupid enough to let Donovan sucker me into helping him, and for that I apologize.”

  “A very pretty speech, but I’m afraid I cannot allow you to remove yourself from the game so soon.”

  “And I’m afraid you don’t have a choice,” came a voice from out of the darkness. Tag’s voice. “Ease back toward me, Alex,” he said, “and let’s get out of here.”

  “Get lost—” Junior laughed. “Miss Scott doesn’t seem very eager to renew her… friendship with you, Mr. Donovan. Perhaps she would rather take her chances with me.”

  “Alex—”

  “Go to hell.”

  “We’re all going to be there if you don’t… duck!”

  He shouted the last word. Alex dropped low over Jackass’s neck, strictly on reflex. Tag and Angel appeared out of the darkness, just as a bunch of horses came racing by her, the riders whooping like the Indians in a John Ford Western, guns blazing. Junior and his men dove out of the way, which was all they had time for.

  Angel and Jackass touched noses, whuffling in each other’s breath. It might have been a poignant scene if she hadn’t been busy wrestling Tag for control of her mount.

  “This is supposed to be a rescue, dammit.”

  She tore the reins out of his hands and held them out of his reach. “Feels more like out of the frying pan into the fire.” But she had no choice other than to follow his lead. “It wasn’t Mick and Franky who rode roughshod through Junior’s camp. Care to tell me where you found the reinforcements?”

  “I heard your gunshot,” Tag said. “I knew you hadn’t run into anybody friendly, and since Rusty told us we were being shadowed I thought it might be Junior. And then I came across Rusty and his pals.”

  It wasn’t a big surprise when she saw the silhouettes of four horses and riders, dark against the starry night sk
y. One of the riders walked his horse forward. Tag met him halfway and said, “You scattered their horses?”

  “Yep, and they won’t be able to look for ‘em until daybreak so I’d say we bought you a good six hours.”

  “This bought me six hours,” Tag said. It was pretty dark, but Alex thought she saw Tag flip him something. “That’s all the cash I have,” he said.

  Rusty didn’t say anything, but his body language spoke volumes. The way his friends spread out to back him up was pretty telling, too.

  “Don’t do it,” Tag said. “I’m not prepared to give you anything else without a fight.”

  Alex nudged Jackass up beside Tag and pulled her rifle from the saddle scabbard, making sure Rusty and his pals heard the distinctive sound of steel sliding out of leather.

  There was another quarter minute of tense silence, then Rusty wheeled his horse and took off, his friends getting lost in the darkness behind him.

  “I appreciate the help,” Tag said.

  “I didn’t want to get caught by a stray bullet.” Alex holstered her Winchester, turned Jackass, and headed off at a right angle to Rusty.

  “Everything was under control. Rusty just needed to know he wasn’t going to get anything but the money I promised him.”

  “And yet again someone saves your ass and you get off scot-free.”

  “You’re forgetting that I saved yours,” Tag said, guiding Angel in beside Jackass.

  “Rusty saved mine.”

  “Rusty didn’t put himself between you and the guns.”

  “Rusty didn’t drag me into this in the first place.”

  “Shit. Are we back to that again?”

  “I know how you dislike the truth,” Alex said, “so let’s go our separate ways and you can twist the truth around to suit yourself without anyone calling you on it.” She clapped her heels to Jackass’s sides, nudging him into a ground-eating trot.

  “Can I borrow the satellite phone before you take off?” Tag called after her.

  “The battery is dead.”

  “Shit.” There was a half minute of silence, then, “Don’t you want to know what’s going on?”

  Absolutely. She couldn’t think of anything she wanted more than an answer to that question. Except to be away from Tag Donovan.