by Misty Dietz
“And our runner-up couple hail from the Rocky Mountain state of Colorado. Please everyone, put your hands together for the dance team of Mya Castillo and Jackson Whiteside…”
A small squeal leaked out of her mouth before she slammed it shut, looking dignified and elegant as they walked toward the judges. Jack smiled at the cameras snapping from the darkness and accepted the trophy, wishing he had both hands on the woman he loved. Hers were occupied with an enormous bouquet of flowers.
Sixty minutes later, they’d changed and departed the auditorium. Jack’s heart was full, listening to Mya’s endless chatter about the studio she’d soon get to open, the students she could reach, the pure joy in her voice the only reward he’d ever need. They walked down the boulevard, hand in hand, Jack pulling their two suitcases behind him, neither of them quite ready to head to the airport for their return flight home.
Could anything be this perfect? Sure, Mya still befuddled him at times, but she kept him on his toes. Kept life interesting with her passion. When someone loved as hard as she did, was it even fair to wish she wouldn’t fight or get upset in equal measure? She was a woman of extremes, mostly on the positive end of the continuum. He’d been around many women who kept their feelings tightly reined, but that was much more exhausting to deal with because he never knew where he stood with them. Their mouths said one thing, but their eyes and actions contradicted every damn thing.
He’d take Mya’s emotions on her sleeve any day. Action that matched emotion was logical. What he could see, he could deal with.
“…call it La Buena Vida?” She paused, smiling, a small, confused furrow to her brows when he continued to remain silent. “Jack? Do you like the name?”
He had no idea what she’d said, but whatever it was, she only wanted him to agree anyway. “I love it.”
Her eyes twinkled. He’d been caught in his duplicity, but both of them were too elated to take issue with it. “We have time for a quick bite to eat before we catch a cab to the airport, right?” she asked.
He nodded, then let her lead the way to the nearest restaurant with outdoor seating as he fished his ringing phone out of his bag. Mya had made all the calls to their family afterwards, so he hadn’t even bothered with his phone. When he pulled it out of the suitcase pocket however, he saw that he’d missed no less than five calls. All from Lilith.
Who was currently calling again.
His stomach tightened. Lil wasn’t one to waste time on frivolous phone calls. If she’d tried to reach him this many times, it was something significant. “Hello Lilith.”
“Have you listened to my voicemails? I’ve been trying to reach you for three hours. Maybe more.”
“We were compet—”
“They found more, Jack.”
More evidence of Mya’s stalker was his first thought, but he hadn’t discussed the case in much detail with Dr. Erickson. “More what?”
“Scrolls, Jack. More Dead Sea Scrolls. We’re talking a cache of about a hundred, maybe more. God. We have to go back as soon as possible!”
Whoa. His breath stalled in his chest. Mya came around the corner holding up a reservation ticket like it was trophy in itself, her smile sliding from her lips when she discerned the look on his face. He swallowed hard.
“…are you hearing me, Jackson? This excavation will cement our contributions for the rest of our careers. These new ones are located in a cave east of the Dead Sea. Who knows how many more there actually are? More books of the Bible might be found on these scrolls. It’s truly historic. When are you getting back? Forget that, just change your ticket at the airport and meet me in Jerusalem within the next forty-eight hours. We’ll figure out how to get to Jordan from there.”
His mouth was dry. This couldn’t be real. “What about CSU?”
“After overseeing this excavation, we’ll be able to name our university anywhere in the world. I don’t know why you’re wasting time asking all these ridiculous questions. All you need to know is, this project will change your life in untold, thrilling ways. See you in Israel, Jack.”
Lilith hung up. She assumed everything. Assumed he’d jump at the chance. Who wouldn’t? This was a find of a lifetime for a geoarchaeologist.
But to reach the pinnacle of his career, he’d have to leave the woman he loved. Again.
Chapter Seventeen
Mya parked in her single car garage and entered her kitchen, the late hour of the night making the familiar turquoise paint as murky and full of shadows as her soul. As much as she loved Rosie’s house, she had missed her own place. She left the lights off, dropped her purse on the counter, and flopped into a chair at the table, too exhausted to even make it into the living room. She put her elbows on the table, her head in her hands, and released a shuddering sigh. The backs of her eyes prickled, and she let the tears come because she was finally alone.
She’d spent the last hour with Aspire Athletic, planning out the new studio’s details, sketching out the initial blueprints, outlining her dream come true. The process should have filled her with joy. Yet now, she was shattered by the knowledge that she was losing Jack when she thought he’d truly be hers forever.
Things had been so tense between them during the two days they’d been home from San Francisco. She’d known—she’d just known—their peaceful bubble had popped when she saw his face while he talked to Dr. Erickson.
Damn the woman!
She didn’t blame Jack for being unsure what he was going to do. This was the excavation of a lifetime. But what about their love? That was forever, too…
But I haven’t told him!
She lifted her head from her palms. Her pulse started pounding in her throat. How could she have not told him? Her love had been fighting to break free and spew all over him since he’d walked back into her life three weeks ago. Ah, hell, it had never died. He’d told her he loved her over and over the last couple of days. And she hadn’t once said it back!
She jumped out of her seat and took two steps, flicking on the light by the sink, her eyes falling on a note in Jack’s neat handwriting on the counter.
Meet me at the entrance to Horsetooth Reservoir at ten thirty. We have to talk.
Butterflies erupted in her belly. Horsetooth at night was a place for romance. A local group had held fundraisers to purchase hundreds of outdoor light strings to festoon the first leg of the hike up Horsetooth Mountain. It was dreamy. Yet the way the note ended, it didn’t sound like he was in the mood for romance.
Then again, he’d entered her home, so he wasn’t trying to avoid her, so…
Ugh. This was either going to be the best or worst night of her life.
She glanced at the clock on the wall. She had twenty minutes to meet him. She turned, gasping to see a moving shadow in the hallway. She scrambled for a knife from the butcher block. A figure emerged in the kitchen. A young woman, twenty-something and goth, with pixie-short, black hair and heavy-handed rims of black eyeliner on a cool, green gaze. She raised her hands in a universal no-harm, no-foul motion. “Sorry to scare you. Please, put the knife down. I’m Timber, a graduate fellow in the Geosciences Department of CSU. I work with Dr. Erickson and Dr. Whiteside.”
Mya’s heart hammered forcefully. She lowered the knife, but didn’t release it. “What are you doing inside my house?” Had she set off the tear gas? Mya wracked her brain trying to remember if Jack had mentioned any graduate students.
Timber smiled patiently. “Jack’s been sleeping here since you came back from San Francisco. I was hoping to speak to him, but apparently I just missed him.” She inclined her head to Jack’s note on the counter. “Unfortunately, I’ll have to do things another way.”
A trickle of sweat slid down the center of Mya’s back. “Jack isn’t here, so you should leave before I call the police.”
Timber took a step toward her like she wasn’t even fazed that Mya clutched a nine-inch butcher knife in her right hand. “I tried to tell Jack that you’d be the death of his dreams. I tried
to tell him in so many ways. He thinks he’s going to propose to you tonight, but I won’t let him throw away everything he’s worked so hard to achieve.”
She paused six feet away, smiling, and it all came together for Mya.
You’ll be the death of his dreams.
“You put the note in his truck.” Which also meant she was responsible for the tear gas. Mya lunged for her phone laying on the table, but Timber pulled a handgun from her waistband and slammed it against Mya’s forehead. Mya went down in a white-hot flash of pain. Blood dripped on the floor next to her hands as she stared down, trying to stop the room from spinning. Timber kicked the knife across the room, then pressed the barrel of the gun at the base of Mya’s skull.
Mya blinked down at her kitchen tile, nauseous, the room winking in and out in black. “Please don’t do this. Jack is a good man. He deserves to be happy.”
“And you think you’re the one who can do that? Sure didn’t work the last time, did it?”
Tears began to mingle with blood dripping down onto Mya’s hands. “People change.”
Timber laughed. “If I believed that, I would have gone back to my abuser daddy when he offered me a larger trust fund. But everybody lies, especially when they tell you they’ve changed. No more talking, get up!”
There could be no good ending to this kind of story. She’d have to fight, or become another statistic. She couldn’t let Jack or her family live through that.
She’d just have to wait for the right moment and pray she got it right.
Chapter Eighteen
Jack tried not to look at his watch one more time. Chlorofluorocarbons, cinder cone, concretion, contact metamorphism… He exhaled heavily and kicked at the gravel along the light-strewn path, wondering if he should’ve made his note less ambiguous. A solitary owl hooted across the valley, its loneliness an omen of what he’d have to look forward to if he didn’t get this right.
He’d already been waiting an hour for Mya. An hour past the time he’d asked her to meet him. Was this supposed to be her answer?
He was going to pass on the second excavation.
He should have waited at her house, then told her, then brought her out here. What if he’d made a mistake by not telling her right away? Maybe she interpreted his note as the precursor to letting her down easy.
Fuck.
He knew she was working late, then meeting with her sponsor, but what was keeping her? Their interactions had been exceedingly strained the last couple of days. He understood her withdrawal. All the baggage she carried from losing her father, and then of course, her mother’s disease had robbed their family of another parent’s leadership. So yes, he understood that she needed to put some distance between them while he made his decision. She’d told him she wouldn’t blame him if he seized the opportunity.
She’d even told him she would wait. That had blown him away. She was still crazy, passionate, unpredictable Mya, but she’d grown up. When the chips fell, she was on his side.
He pulled the plane ticket to Israel out of his pocket, anxious to watch her face while he ripped it up. He knew now without a doubt that he wanted to build a family with her—build forever with her—more than he wanted to spend countless hours in a desert examining inanimate objects and sediment that would have no lasting impact on his life beyond professional honors.
“Where are you, Mya?” He gazed at the stars twinkling above the lights, above the swooping bats. She’d love it out here. It was a warm night. A few couples snuggled on benches that dotted the first section of the path, the mood soft and languid. He turned to look toward the parking lot. Cars were exiting, none entering. His heart ached. Self doubt crept in like a January wind slipping through a broken window seal.
He carefully folded his airline ticket, put it in his pocket, and walked to his truck. He kept the music off as he drove back to Mya’s. He didn't want to hear any slow songs. They would manipulate his hormones, a neuroscientific cause-and-effect that would make everything harder.
Her house was dark when he pulled into her driveway. Please be sleeping. She’d been driving so hard. And with all their practicing for the competition—along with their inability to keep their hands off each other—they hadn’t slept enough the last few weeks. He took one last deep breath before he used the key to get inside. In the kitchen, her purse was on the counter, as well as her phone, and on the floor…his note.
And what looked to be watery smears of blood.
“Mya!” He ran through the house, flicking on all the lights. With each footfall, each room unoccupied, his anxiety ratcheted higher. He sprinted into the garage. Her car was gone, so she wasn’t next door at Rosie’s. Where had she gone? Think logically. Don’t assume the worst. There were no signs of struggle.
Yeah, but that fucking blood.
She could’ve gotten a bloody nose. It was notoriously dry this time of year.
It wouldn’t be that aqueous, though.
Besides, where the hell was she?
Kidnapped. The word shot around his mind faster and faster making him nearly lightheaded with panic and anger. He pulled out his cell phone, checking in with Rosie, Cole, Ivy, Natalia, Andre, and Jasmine.
No one had heard from Mya.
Something’s really wrong. She would’ve told someone what she was up to. He started toward the door. He’d check at her studio, and then track down her sponsor. If they were dead ends, his next call would be Officer Ramos. His phone rang as he slid into his truck. His pulse surged, but it was only Timber. “You’re wasting your youth by spending it exclusively in the office, Timber. You should be out partying with your cohorts.” The line was silent for a heartbeat, and it felt wrong. He’d never been so unprofessional with graduate students before. “My apologies. I’m not myself tonight. Can we talk tomorrow?”
“Oh, it’s nothing major,” she assured him. “I thought I’d just mention that Mya had stopped by the office a bit ago.”
Thank God. He slumped back against his truck seat and ran a hand down his stubbled cheek. “Is she still there?”
“No, sorry, it was really awkward. She threw the trophy you guys won through the glass door, screaming that you can keep it because all you care about is accolades. She said she hopes you go to Israel and never come back.”
Jackson’s gut free-fell into nothingness. He tried to swallow, but his throat was dry. “Are you sure? That doesn’t sound like her,” he managed in a hoarse voice.
“It doesn’t? I thought it was remarkably in character. I’m really sorry, Mr. Whiteside. I know you like her, but I think you’re probably better off without so much drama in your life. But of course, that’s for you to decide.”
He didn’t know what to think. The scene probably explained why she didn’t have her purse. Sounded like she’d read his note and went ballistic. Just left the house in a rage, taking the one thing that represented what they’d worked so hard to achieve. The thing that he’d thought brought them back together.
His whole life stretched before him, as barren as the desert he’d probably retreat to. “Did she say where she was going?”
“No. She came, exploded, then took off. I hope she makes it home alright. She seemed…unhinged. By the way, Dr. Erickson sprang for a ticket for me, too, so I’ll meet you at the airport in a—”
Jack didn’t hear the rest of what Timber said before he hung up. He and Mya had been here before. But this time felt even worse. His hopes had been so high, so strong. And the higher you flew, the harder you fell.
He removed the ticket from his pocket again, hating it, but knowing he couldn’t stay in Fort Collins knowing everything he really wanted was within arm’s reach, but not his to have and hold.
The red-eye flight to Israel departed in three hours.
Jack stared at Mya’s dark house one last time, then turned off his engine, slipped out of his truck, and went to wake Rosie to say goodbye.
Mya woke in the dark, a dank, musty odor filling her nostrils. She was on her side,
hands and feet zip tied. Her forehead pulsed and burned where Timber had cuffed her with the gun. This can’t be happening. She had no concept of time or place, other than it must still be nighttime, and she must be somewhere below-ground if the stagnant, mildew scent was any indication.
She had to get free before Jack’s flight departed. She couldn’t bear it if he thought she didn’t love him.
Please believe in me. In our love.
Had she given him enough reason to, though? She’d always been the one to test his love.
She gasped at the pain in her head, not wanting to cry out in case Timber was somewhere close. She finessed herself into a sitting position, then used her abdominal muscles to raise her legs, then exerted her thigh muscles apart as she forcefully dropped her heels. The plastic zip ties busted on the third try. She waited a moment for the worst of the stabbing in her head to pass, then scooted on her butt until she bumped into something solid to push herself up into a standing position. She took a deep breath, then raised her hands overhead, then drove them down rapidly, using her belly as the strike force as she jerked her hands apart. The zip ties broke apart like when she’d practiced last spring at her brother’s insistence. Thank you for your anal safety demands, Cole.
She panned out with her hands in front of her as she carefully made her way toward the sliver of light well above her line of sight. Her feet bumped into something solid. Stairs, narrow and sliver-ridden. She was in a basement, then. Was Timber still here? She obviously wanted her out of the way. Why hadn’t she killed her already?
The violent creaking of the stairs made the hairs rise on the back of Mya’s neck. She tried the door handle and found it surprisingly unlocked. Her breath whooshed out in relief until she opened the door and a bucket dumped brown-gold liquid into the barren, ramshackle room and all over her. Gasoline! It soaked her hair and clothes, the overpowering scent burning her nose, the hydrocarbons in the vapors worming into her lungs. She coughed and stumbled into the room, her foot catching on a fine trip line that ignited a flame in the far corner of the room.
