Crave the Moon

by Lori Handeland

  While the others ate breakfast, Gina stepped into the trees and tried to get herself under control. She couldn’t ride a horse, even Lady Belle, with her hands shaking this badly. And she wouldn’t be able to keep an eye on her guests or give them the nature tour she’d planned for the day if she couldn’t speak past the tears in her throat.

  Hadn’t she promised she’d show one of them a bear?

  Crap. That had been Teo. Well, since she was never going to see him again as long as she lived, she wouldn’t have to worry about that.

  Her laughter came out sounding like a silly sob, and she drew in a breath that hitched in the middle.

  “Stop it,” she ordered, wringing her hands together so tightly they ached.

  Teo was gone. She would forget about him. His questions. His secrets. His lies.

  And that damn photograph? She’d try to forget it, but really …

  How could she ever forget the place where her parents had died?

  * * *

  “I’m not getting on that,” Matt protested.

  “That’s right you aren’t.” McCord lifted his chin, indicating they should head downhill. “Granddad’s meeting us on the dirt road. He’ll take you back in the truck.”

  “What if I don’t want to go back?” Matt asked, even as he began to walk.

  “That would just make my day.” McCord moved along next to Matt, keeping pace with his hand on the clutch.

  “You gonna beat me senseless?”

  “Only if you ask real nice.”

  Matt sighed. He was screwed, and he knew it.

  “Wait.” Matt stopped. “My horse.”

  “Not yours,” the man sneered; however, he did contemplate Matt with a little more respect. “Gina will probably ride Spike and lead Lady Belle. Don’t worry; your horse won’t be left behind for the wolves to eat.”

  “There aren’t any wolves,” Matt muttered, almost as sad about never seeing Spike again as he was about never seeing Gina. He liked that horse.

  Matt suddenly realized that he’d continued on but McCord hadn’t, and turned. “What?”

  “She told you?”

  “About the wolves, or lack of them? Yeah. So?”

  The man narrowed his eyes. “What else did she tell you?”

  Matt had a sudden urge to say, That’s for me to know and you to find out. But if he continued with the playground imagery a taunt like that would only ascertain that Jase did find out. Probably by giving Matt purple nurples until he cried uncle.

  What was it he’d heard his students say?

  Been there, done that. Saw the Blu-ray.

  He hadn’t had his ass handed to him by a bully since he’d turned twelve and grown six inches. He didn’t plan to go back now. Besides, Matt couldn’t think of anything else Gina might have told him that was important. He couldn’t think why that was important.

  So there weren’t any wolves on the ranch. Wasn’t that a good thing?

  “Mecate…” McCord began.

  “Nothing,” Matt said. “She didn’t tell me anything else but that.”

  McCord grunted. He didn’t believe Matt. Luckily, they slid past a line of trees and Isaac appeared not far below, leaning against a faded red pickup. Too late for McCord to beat Matt senseless now. He doubted Isaac would approve.

  “How’d you find out who I was?” Matt asked.

  “I wasn’t looking for you. I was looking for Old Moldy.”

  Matt liked that nickname less and less every time he heard it.

  “Went to the Internet, plugged in your name, and up popped your pretty-boy face.”

  “Google sucks,” Matt muttered.

  “For you,” McCord agreed.

  “You could have waited for us to get back.”

  “Appears I got here in the nick of time.” McCord scowled. “Or maybe a few minutes too late. You really believe sleeping with Gina would get her to agree to let you dig up her…” He paused, tightening his lips as if he’d almost said too much. Then he saw Matt waiting, expectant, and finished with, “Place. Guys like you think because you have a golden face, you’ve got a golden dick. Does every wish you make on that thing come true?”

  “You really believe warning away every other man that comes near her is going to make her fall in love with you? Forever after by process of elimination?”

  “I don’t warn guys away,” McCord said, but he suddenly became very interested in the trail ahead of them, a trail he had to have seen a thousand times before.

  “I’m not as moldy as you think I am. Especially up here.” Matt tapped his forehead. “How many guys have you sent packing over the years? How many times did she wait for a phone call that didn’t come because you threatened to smash someone’s teeth in?”

  The tightness of the man’s jaw told Matt the number was pretty damn high.

  “Be a big boy,” Matt said. “Tell her the truth before she finds out from someone else. She doesn’t seem to like it when that happens.”

  McCord’s head came up. “Don’t you dare—”

  “I’m not going to tell her anything,” Matt said. “I’ll probably never see her again thanks to you.”

  The sadness that flooded Matt after that statement surprised him just a little. Sure, he’d wanted her, but he hadn’t realized how much he’d liked her, how much he would miss her company after only knowing her for a short while.

  They continued on toward where Isaac waited, hat tilted, face in shadow. Matt might not be able to see the old man’s expression but could easily tell from the way Isaac held himself that he wasn’t happy.

  Matt glanced at his companion. “What was it about the photo that made Gina go white as a ghost?”

  McCord flinched at the word ghost, which only piqued Matt’s interest and caused his busy brain to kick into high gear. “Is that area haunted?”

  “What area?”

  “The one in the picture?”

  McCord smirked. “What picture?”

  Matt narrowed his eyes. The man knew very well what picture. Of course, since Matt no longer had it and Gina had probably destroyed it …

  Hell.

  Still, McCord’s reluctance to talk about the place, his refusal to even acknowledge it, combined with his response to the word ghost … There was something there.

  A battleground? A graveyard?

  A superwarrior’s tomb?

  People didn’t behave this strangely without something to hide. Of course McCord would swallow his own tongue before he told Matt what it was.

  They reached the road, and Isaac got behind the wheel without a single word of greeting. He was equally chatty all the way to the ranch.

  McCord revved the dirt bike’s motor, which was loud enough to be a Harley, and took off in the opposite direction. He’d travel as the crow flew and no doubt beat Isaac and Matt to their destination.

  Sure enough, when the pickup pulled into the yard the man not only was waiting for them but had also already packed Matt’s things.

  “Thanks for your patronage.” McCord threw the suitcase at Matt so hard, Matt staggered a step when he caught it. “Never come again.”

  “My money?” Matt asked.

  “What money?” McCord returned, already heading for the house.

  That was the problem with cash. No proof of purchase.

  Matt rummaged through the outside zipper pockets of his bag for the car keys. But a cry from the house had him glancing up just as Fanny banged through the screen door and handed a sheet of paper to her son. Matt was able to make out the name Benjamin Morris at the top.

  Isaac joined his daughter and grandson on the porch, and they began to murmur among themselves. Matt caught one phrase—“sell the ranch at auction”—before McCord remembered him and snapped, “Don’t you have somewhere to be?”

  Matt’s gaze met Fanny’s, then Isaac’s. No help there. While they weren’t actively scowling as McCord was, they no longer looked at Matt with anything akin to welcome.

  Matt nodded in lieu
of “good-bye” and headed for the car, digging again for his keys. As he got in, he had an idea.

  He hoped this one would turn out better than the last one had.

  CHAPTER 8

  Gina and the rest of the group straggled into the yard two days later. Over the past twenty-four hours, the heavens had opened and dumped every last bit of rain in the world on top of them. They were wet, hungry, tired, and just a little cranky.

  But they filed into the barn with their mounts. The horses were as tired and wet and dirty as they were, and it would be inhuman to leave them like that.

  Gina led Spike and Lady Belle to their stalls. Jase appeared and took care of Spike with tight, annoyed movements, not speaking until he finished well ahead of her.

  “Meet me in the kitchen,” he said. “We’ve got trouble.”

  “What kind of trouble?”

  Teo didn’t seem the type to be a problem. Then again, he hadn’t seemed the type to lie, and look how wrong she’d been.

  Jase just shook his head and moved off to help the others.

  The next few days would be spent at the ranch for the spa portion of their getaway. The guests could order massages, travel to the nearby hot springs, schedule a yoga retreat or any number of other relaxing benefits before they left on their second, slightly more difficult than the first, trail ride.

  Gina finished with Lady Belle and was able to cop a shower and a change of clothes yet still beat Jase to the kitchen. Fanny was putting the finishing touches on supper, which would consist of her famous Five-Alarm Chili and Fajita Chicken Nachos.

  Despite the hot shower and warm clothes, Gina remained chilled. She poured herself a cup of coffee from the always-full pot and sat at the table.

  “What happened?” she asked.

  Fanny continued to stir the chili, refusing to meet Gina’s eyes. “You must talk to Jase.”

  Gina didn’t like this at all, especially since she could have sworn unshed tears thickened Fanny’s voice. But no matter how many times Gina asked or how much she begged, Fanny would say nothing more. Which caused Gina to imagine all sorts of horrible things.

  Teo and Jase fighting. Teo hitting his head. He was now in an irreversible coma, and the police were asking questions.

  Teo dead and buried in the garden. Jase needed her to help him figure out what they were going to do with the rest of the bodies. Because they couldn’t let anyone leave now, could they?

  Gina shook her head. She’d watched way too many thriller movies on cold winter nights. Then again, so had Jase.

  Taking a sip of coffee, she faced the scenario she’d been avoiding—a far more realistic but no less disturbing one. What if Teo was still here, refusing to leave until she led him to the place depicted in that photograph?

  After her parents had died, it had taken Gina nearly a year to go back there. By then, the cavern had been filled with earth, packed tight, and made to appear as if nothing had ever happened there at all.

  But she knew better.

  Jase walked in, and Gina started up so fast, she nearly knocked over her chair. She did slosh coffee onto the once-pristine tabletop.

  “What happened?” she repeated, a little too loud.

  Jase glanced at his mom, who continued to stir the chili, staring into it as if she could find the answer to one of life’s great questions at the bottom of that pot. “You didn’t tell her?”

  “That is for you.”

  “Great,” he muttered.

  “What did you do?” Gina demanded. “Did you hurt him?”

  “I haven’t even talked to him yet.”

  Jase crossed the room and poured his own coffee, then took the dishcloth his mother handed him, even though she hadn’t turned around and could not possibly know Gina had spilled anything, and tossed it to her. “Do you want me to hurt him?”

  Gina, in the middle of wiping up the mess, paused. The overhead lights caught Jase’s dark eyes, making them loom black as a starless night. For an instant he looked like someone she didn’t know. “Are you nuts?”

  Jase shrugged. “He’s gonna take the ranch. I wouldn’t mind getting a few licks first.”

  “Take the ranch?” All of Gina’s horrible scenarios came rushing back. Teo in traction, fat lip, black eye, talking to his lawyer, instigating lawsuits. Huge earthmovers rolling up the road within the week.

  “How could you?” Gina threw the sopping dishrag at Jase’s head. He caught it with one hand and tossed it into the sink. She really couldn’t get a good throw with something so flimsy. Next time she’d use her coffee mug. “So he lied. So he kissed me. You didn’t have to break him.”

  Fanny stopped her stirring. “Who kissed you?”

  Jase, who’d been taking an impossibly large sip of some very hot coffee, paused with the mug still to his lips. His glance flicked to his mother, then back to Gina before he lowered the mug and swallowed. “What are you talking about?”

  “You hurt Teo, and now he’s suing us. We’re gonna lose the ranch.”

  Jase set the cup down so hard Gina thought it might shatter. Then he picked up an envelope from the counter and tossed it onto the table, where it skidded across the surface so fast she had to slap her palm on top of it to keep the thing from sliding off the other side.

  “I’d forgotten about that asshole,” Jase said. “But obviously you haven’t. Maybe that’ll bring your mind back to more important things than pretty boy.”

  He stalked out of the house, slamming the door behind him. Gina opened the envelope and discovered that Jase was right.

  Any thoughts of Teo Mecate instantly disappeared as soon as she read what lay inside.

  * * *

  Matt made the mistake of asking his rental GPS to direct him to the nearest town, which he then drove right through without stopping, since it was composed of a few houses and several stray dogs.

  After he’d driven five miles down the highway and been told by an annoyingly prim British voice that he must make a “legal U-turn,” he’d done so and discovered the sign for Nomad as he’d come back in the other side.

  Since Matt couldn’t find a single business establishment—no gas station, no restaurant, not even a tavern—with his eyes or the damn GPS, he’d knocked on the only house with a car in the driveway (even though it was up on blocks, it was still a car) and been told by the seemingly alone ten-year-old kid that the nearest “real” town was Durango.

  Matt had known this, having flown into it. He’d just figured there had to be another one closer to the ranch than forty miles away. Why he’d figured that he had no idea. Unless it was because the uppity British voice on the GPS had told him so.

  He’d driven close to a half hour back in the direction he’d come, then another hour farther on roads that really needed some work. By the time he reached Durango, just after five, any inquiries he might have made at the courthouse or a local bank had to be postponed.

  Matt had been tempted to drive directly to the airport and fly home. But the sight of the Strater Hotel convinced him to at least stay the night.

  The Strater was an historic landmark in downtown Durango. Built in the late 1880s by the pharmacist Henry Strater, who didn’t have the money, the experience, or enough years on the planet to enter into a contract when he started, the building had become a testament to old-time Western ingenuity. Henry built his dream with spit, grit, and imagination, and the hotel became not only prosperous but also a legend.

  The place had been remodeled by the latest owners and now boasted ninety-three Victorian rooms, each with a plumbing upgrade.

  The desk clerk leaned forward, lowering his voice as if to impart a really great secret. “Louis L’Amour always stayed in room two-twenty-two.”

  “Okay.” Matt wasn’t sure why that was important.

  “He said the music from the Diamond Belle Saloon right below helped him to write all those books.”

  “Good for him.”

  “Would you like to stay there? It’s open.”


  “Why would I want to listen to music?”

  The clerk glanced pointedly at the laptop case in Matt’s hand.

  “Oh,” he said. “I’m not a writer. Just…”

  “You don’t have to explain, sir. Many of our guests are addicted to the Internet.” He straightened, tapping the keys of his computer, then giving a pleased nod at what his keyboard prowess had wrought. “Would you like a room with free wireless Internet?”

  Matt didn’t answer at first, figuring the question had been rhetorical—who wouldn’t want free wireless Internet?—but when the clerk continued to stare at him with his so light as to be almost invisible eyebrows raised Matt finally said, “Sure!”

  A shower, some clean clothes, and a half hour with his computer and Matt was almost himself again. He found Benjamin Morris—a retired banker who’d gone into the business of buying properties in trouble, then charging the debtors a higher interest rate—through Google. However, when Matt called to set up an appointment Mr. Morris was “not available until Monday.”

  Though he had to wait several days to move forward, actually knowing where he was moving made him feel refreshed, renewed, and ready to prove the Mecate theory, as well as keep his job. He wasn’t going to let anyone—not even the luscious Gina O’Neil—blow it for him. Besides, considering the trouble she was in, his plan would benefit them both.

  He spent Friday strolling around the fascinatingly old yet intriguingly updated Strater Hotel, having a glass of wine in their Spiritorium and dinner at the Mahogany Grille next door, where he opted to ignore the elk tenderloin in favor of the Kansas City strip.

  On Saturday and Sunday Matt toured the overly western but still kind of fun Durango. They’d done a nice job keeping the downtown area reminiscent of the Old West. If he didn’t know better he’d think the bookstore and the candy store had actually been there since 1875.

  In between his brief fits of tourism Matt did some research. Couldn’t let all that free Wi-Fi go to waste.

  He discovered that Nahua Springs Ranch had gone to Gina as the only child following the accidental death of her parents. What that accidental death had been was never fully explained beyond “accident,” which could cover any manner of things. That it wasn’t revealed just how high the O’Neils were in the pecking order of the area.