His to Take (32 page)

“Charming.”

“That’s McKeevy, a delightful sociopath.” Hunter huffed. “Keep me posted. If you don’t,
I’ll let your sister kick your ass next time you see her.”

Joaquin couldn’t not laugh. The idea of a pregnant woman still a good six inches shorter
than him beating him up was ridiculous, but if anyone would try, it would be his spitfire
sister. “Heaven forbid. I’ll let you know as soon as I have news.”

They hung up, and Joaquin began following the driving directions to the campground
Hunter had texted from his phone. The roads turned twisty and windy, the scenery absolutely
stunning. He’d never been to this part of the country, but he wouldn’t mind exploring
here more. Fall was probably a gorgeous time of year to come.

Within a few minutes, they reached the old campground. It had been converted into
a bar and restaurant, but the place looked empty now. He glanced at his phone: 3:38.
As he curled an arm around Bailey’s tiny waist and led her to the door, he saw that
the sign posted said they didn’t open until five.

He looked around the parking lot, down the landscaped perimeter, all the way to the
lakefront. “Anything look familiar?”

“I see a fence. And a dock.” She bit her lip, looking tense, worried. “I don’t know.
If this is the right place, things have changed a lot. This parking lot wasn’t here.
It was just a dirt area. The big tree I remember doesn’t seem that big, after all.”

“Remember, you were smaller, so your vantage point would have been here.” He crouched
down. “And since it was fall, the tree would have been full of leaves, not just a
bunch of spindly branches.”

“True,” she conceded, easing down to his level and staring up at the treetops. “Is
it hickory?”

“I’m not an arborist. It’s possible.”

She sighed. “It’s also possible this is a wild-goose chase.”

“Yeah. But in case it’s the real deal, we’ve got to press forward.”

Bailey rose and meandered to the fence, stroking her fingers along the top of the
pickets, now stained a dark cedar color. Joaquin headed for an old, beat-up sign near
the shore that read
No Lifeguard on Duty
.

She looked his way, and her eyes lit up. “I remember that sign.” She glanced between
it and the fence again. “It was about that far apart, too. If this fence was still
green . . . it would look awfully similar.”

“There’s a path to follow.” He pointed.

“It’s concrete now, but if I come to this support post and jump three times to my
left . . .” She demonstrated—and wound up precisely in the middle of the path.

And everything seemed to fit into place. A wave of dizziness overcame her.

Joaquin reached out to steady Bailey. “Whoa. You okay?”

“I remember now—and I think we’re in the right place. In my head, I see Viktor talking
me through this little dance before he headed back to a tiny lump of dirt he’d just
made at the base of the tree.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s exactly the kind of recollection we need.”

“Mentally removing the trappings of everything that’s changed, I’m thinking we might
actually find whatever he buried somewhere around the trunk of the tree. Did we bring
a shovel?”

Well, shit.
“I wasn’t exactly prepared to dig.” He took a mental inventory of the items in his
car. “I’ve got an idea. It’s not perfect, but it might do the trick.”

He jogged back to the car, disappearing behind some foliage for a bit. He hated to
leave Bailey for even a moment, but he couldn’t see a soul in sight, just lots of
nature’s wonder.

A green compact that had seen better days speeded into the lot, swinging around a
corner and almost tilting over on two wheels. Joaquin tensed as he saw the female
driver heading single-mindedly to the lot behind the building, closer to Bailey’s
position.

A moment later, a harried brunette bolted from her car, carrying an apron and juggling
her keys as she locked her vehicle and ran for the back door of the restaurant. The
woman let herself into the place, then locked the door behind her with an audible
click. With the restaurant opening in just over an hour, it stood to reason that someone
had to start cooking or getting the tables set.

Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief, then retrieved the necessary item from the back
of his SUV. Then he noticed something that made his blood run cold—the red truck they’d
spotted on the highway just after their last stop. Jogging over, he took a quick glance
inside. It appeared empty.

After making a mental note of the license plate, he dashed back to Bailey, implement
in hand. He was damn glad it would double as a weapon. It would make a nice backup
for the SIG shoved into his waistband at the small of his back.

He told her about the truck parked on the other side of the building.

Worry wrinkled her brow. “You think it’s the same red truck we saw?”

“Looks like it. But then again, it might be another employee or the owner. Let’s stay
focused on our task, but we’ll definitely keep our eyes open, too.”

Her body tensed. She curled her arms around herself. “I wish we could just forget
this. I don’t have a burning need to know about Viktor’s research. So many people
have already killed and died for it. Unearthing it may end up being the worst thing
we can do for humanity.”

“Secrets don’t stay buried,” he warned. “If we don’t find this, someone else will.
And we have no idea how unscrupulous that someone might be. You need to dig up whatever
he buried and bring light to it. If those are the original—and last—notes about his
research, we’ll have to make sure everyone knows they’ve been turned over to the proper
authorities. You’re the only one with memories of Viktor’s plan. Only you can end
this.”

“I know.” She looked crushed by that fact. “Let’s just get this done.”

He understood how she felt and wished he could take this monkey off her back. “Do
you remember on what side of the tree he buried this . . . whatever?”

She studied the tree, wrinkling her nose. “Not exactly. I doubt he did it on the side
facing the river. Let’s try over here.”

When she pointed to the left of the tree, near some protruding roots, Joaquin crouched
down to examine the ground. “You sure?”

“No. But he would have avoided either of these sides.” She pointed to the back and
right of the tree. “Erosion. I’m guessing he wouldn’t have put it in front of the
tree, knowing that angle would be most likely to be encroached on by people doing
things like building a parking lot. Don’t you think he’d choose the least accessible
side?”

“Yeah.” She had been through a lot, and it wasn’t over, but she just kept impressing
him with her wit, grit, and determination. “Good point. I’ll start digging here.”

He jammed the crowbar into the soil. The tool didn’t wedge free easily. Time and footsteps
had packed the dirt down tightly.

Joaquin dug for seemingly endless minutes, Bailey helping out with her bare hands.
A sweat broke out at his temples, under his T-shirt, at the waistband of his pants.
Beside him on the tar lot, he made a pile of earth. His hands were a filthy black.
The sun was heading down and would soon fall behind a nearby mountain.

“I’m starting to wonder now . . .” he admitted. “Maybe we are in the wrong place.”

“We’re talking about years ago, and I recall that Viktor dug for a while. I really
think we’re where we should be.”

Joaquin had his doubts, but he didn’t have more appealing options. If they gave up
on this spot, what would he do with Bailey next? Find another hotel room tonight?
Take her to bed again and relentlessly plow her delicate curves until neither of them
could think straight? Get up tomorrow and procure a shovel so they could cruise around
the lake, hoping that something else looked familiar to her? That plan sounded as
good as any.

“Ten more minutes. Then we’ll have to give up for today. Once the sun dips behind
that mountain, it’s going to look pretty dark. The only lights in this lot are on
the other side, near the restaurant door.” He dug into the soil again and scooped
out another pile with his hands.

Beside him, Bailey filled her graceful hands with the earth and added to his pile.
“I know.”

And she sounded so disappointed. Damn it. Once he’d given her a bit of proof about
her previous life, she’d believed him, despite how crazy it must have sounded to her.
She couldn’t produce any evidence out of thin air, but he could still give her the
benefit of the doubt until her theory no longer seemed possible.

“I know you’re worried and upset. We’ll figure it out. This might not be the right
spot, but we’ll keep looking—”

The crowbar hit something hard and metallic deep in the soil.

Had their luck finally changed?

“What was that?” she asked, hunkered down next to him.

“Help me.” He shoved the end of the crowbar into the soil until he could discern the
outer edges of a box. It clinked every time he hit the side. Together, they shoved
the soil away, frantic to reach whatever they’d found.

“You don’t think it’s water pipes or a sewer line, do you?” she asked.

“No. The shape is definitely square. I don’t know how deep it is yet. Keep digging.”

Five minutes became ten. The sun dipped closer to the horizon. Damn it, they had to
get a move on. People might show up for dinner or a drink at this restaurant soon
and question why the hell they were digging at the edge of the parking lot. He also
didn’t like the fact that he’d seen that red truck not far away but had no clue where
its owner might be right now.

Sweat sheened his skin. His heart beat in rapid thumps of anxiety. His fingers ached
from gripping the crowbar and digging into the hard soil, which had been frozen for
most of the winter. He’d have dirt under his fingernails for the next six months—and
he just didn’t care. They might be moments away from the discovery that could save
Bailey and allow her to walk away from her past as Tatiana Aslanov.

Joaquin risked a peek at her. A little dewy film covered her forehead and just under
her bottom lip. Hell of a time to notice that her nipples strained the purple T-shirt
she wore. With her hair in a haphazard knot on her head and her gaze focused down,
she still looked beautiful to him. In fact, she always did—at any time, in any setting.
He’d do whatever he must to keep her safe. And make her his.

Joaquin reached into the hole they’d dug, feeling his way along the edge of the metallic
object. Definitely some sort of box.

Bailey dug around the other side, then looked up at him with an excited smile. “I
got my fingers under the edge.”

They were close.

“Let me try . . .” He burrowed his digits deeper into the earth, finagling at the
edge until the pads of his fingers slipped just under. “I got it, too.”

He looked down into the hole, trying to see what he’d only felt so far, but with the
canopy of trees filtering out their late afternoon sun, only a shadowy gray yawned
back at him.

“Can you pull it up? I think if we wiggle it, we might be able to wedge it free.”

Joaquin suspected she was right. “Let’s do it. Carefully. I don’t think anything is
breakable, but let’s not take a chance.”

They pulled and strained, jiggling one side, then the other. Finally, the sun dropped,
seeming to touch the mountain in the distance. Longer shadows fell across the parking
lot as he pulled his side free from the hole. Bailey lifted hers up next, and earth
trickled back into the hole. The sharp edges of the metallic box bit into his fingers
as he held it up to the residual sunlight for a good look.

“There’s no lock on it?” Bailey sounded confused by that fact.

“I’m surprised, too. But I guess he had no way of giving you a key and being sure
you could hang on to it until you were an adult. Getting you to remember the location
of the box was a feat in itself, so he probably didn’t want to risk hoping you’d remember
a combination on top of it. Besides, with a good pair of wire cutters and some gumption,
anyone could snip the lock free.”

“Good point.”

Joaquin reached for the latch holding the lid shut. As he grasped it, Bailey touched
his arm softly.

“Can I do it?” She looked somewhere between nervous and earnest.

This was something she needed to do. Being the first person to set eyes on whatever
her father had buried over fifteen years ago would bring her a sense of closure. Hopefully,
she’d be seeing exactly what her family had died for, what had wrought so much destruction
in her life both now and then. He prayed nothing in here would hurt her or increase
her risk of danger even more. But nothing about chasing this crazy needle in this
bizarre haystack had been easy or a given. He couldn’t take this away from her now.

“Do it.” Joaquin handed her the box.

*   *   *

WITH both relief and a new onslaught of tension, Bailey took the metal container into
her grip. It wasn’t huge, maybe six inches by four. Caked in dirt, the color was tough
to discern, but as she brushed the top clean with her fingers, she suspected it had
once been an industrial gray. A sticker of what looked like a mouse was stuck on top,
yellowed by time and earth. Viktor had thought of everything in order to tie the rhyme
to the location of the box, right down to the little rodent.

Trembling, she took hold of the latch. The rectangular hole in the middle fit over
a metal protrusion curved in the shape of a U, which prevented the lid from opening
without human intervention. Her hands trembled as she freed the flap from the flange,
then lifted the lid.

Joaquin leaned in with her as they both peered into the box. Inside lay something
smallish and square, swathed in layers of bubble wrap. Bailey reached for it, then
hesitated.

“Go ahead,” he encouraged. “This is what your father wanted you to find.”

“What if this . . . whatever it is Viktor left me doesn’t make my trouble with LOSS
go away?”

“We’ll deal with it then, but he kept you alive for this. Check it out.”