Rattled (17 page)

The men stopped a few feet from Drew. They didn’t say anything. Drew couldn’t tell if it was supposed to be an intimidation tactic or if they just hadn’t figured out what to say. Drew waited, smiling slightly, letting them make the first move.

The bigger man shifted and glanced at his companion. Finally the smaller man spoke. “You took a couple of women up today.”

Drew didn’t bother to confirm or deny it, just kept a look of polite interest, though his muscles had tensed in a fight or flight response.

“We’d like to know where you took them.”

“I’d like to know tomorrow’s winning lottery number,” Drew said. “We can’t always get what we want.”

“We’ll make it worth your while.”

Drew considered. “How much?”

“Five hundred dollars.”

Drew snorted. “Pocket change.” He considered walking off to make his point but didn’t want to turn his back on the men.

The men exchanged glances. Drew wished he could get a better look at their faces. They could have been Anglo or Hispanic. The one who spoke had a local accent, nothing special. He said, “We’ll make it two thousand.”

Drew let the silence hang before he said, “Ten thousand.”

The silence went on longer this time. Finally the smaller man cleared his throat and said, “Five thousand. That’s as high as I can go.”

Drew grinned. “Let’s see it.”

“We don’t have that much in cash now. We’ll give you an advance for the info and bring the rest tomorrow.”

Drew shook his head. “Gee, I’m sorry. You must have mistaken me for an idiot. You can come back when you have the money.”

The men took a step closer to him and spread out. The big one shifted his weight like a pro wrestler getting ready to rumble. The smaller one said, “Why don’t you tell us now? Or in a minute, you’ll tell us for nothing.”

Drew decided to take a gamble. “Tell you what, come into the hangar and we’ll talk.” He turned toward the building with a friendly “come along” gesture. “You want a beer? I got a little fridge in there.” He wondered if the men would be stupid enough to follow him into the hangar, where he could see them in the light. Their behavior to date had seemed determined but not especially bright.

He’d gone a couple of paces when a grunt and rushing footsteps behind him told him his ploy hadn’t worked. He dropped low and spun. The big man was practically on top of him. Drew turned his shoulder into the man’s stomach and used the thug’s momentum to flip him up and over. The man landed on his back with a thud that seemed to shake the tarmac.

The other man wasn’t much more than a blur in the darkness. He seemed to be reaching for a pocket. Drew didn’t wait to see what kind of weapon he might pull out. He took two steps and kicked, connecting somewhere in the vicinity of the man’s wrist or forearm. The smack of boot on flesh was drowned out by the man’s yelp of pain as he stumbled back. Drew had to admire the colorful swearing that followed as the man regained his balance, cradling one arm in the other. Drew wanted to follow up before the man could get a hand on any weapon again, but sounds from behind warned him not to forget the big man.

Between his military training and the occasional dust-up in rough bars around the world, Drew had experience fighting two at once. Unless the men were trained fighters, it wasn’t even much of a challenge. But a weapon, especially a gun, strongly skewed the odds. Drew wondered if he could get into his hangar. He had potential weapons there, tools and metal pipes. Of course, the smart thing to do would be to lock the door behind him and call the police. Drew wasn’t sure if he felt smart yet.

He ran around the big man, heading for the hangar. A light flashed on, blinding him. He’d forgotten about the spotlight over the door of the hangar, which the motion sensor set off. He faltered for a second, then put a hand out as he ran so he wouldn’t crash into the building. At least the light would be in the men’s eyes now as well.

By the time he touched the building he could see clearly enough to find the door handle. He fumbled for his keys. Before he could get the key in the lock, he sensed motion behind him. He spun and prepared to duck a punch.

The big man’s body slammed him against the wall. Drew’s head hit the metal siding with a smack that jarred through his neck. Air whooshed from his lungs and he felt his bones rattle. He was squashed against the wall as the big man grappled with his arms.

Drew brought his knee up to the man’s groin. It went against the grain, using a woman’s trick, but when you were fighting for your life you fought dirty. The man grunted and jackknifed forward, pushing Drew’s torso further into the wall but putting more space between their lower bodies.

Drew couldn’t pull his arm back for a decent punch, so he pushed his back against the wall for more leverage and swept his leg in an arc, hooking his heel behind the man’s ankle. The guy still didn’t fall, but he wobbled enough that Drew could twist his arms free and shove. The man staggered back, giving Drew room to move. He immediately looked for the other man.

The light made a bright half circle about 20 feet in circumference. Beyond that, only the dim blue marking lights broke the darkness. In the few minutes since they had landed, dusk had faded to full night.

Drew swiveled his head, trying to find the other attacker. Having the big man close offered some protection, as his companion might not have a clear shot. But the guy would recover in a moment. Drew had to find out what the smaller man was doing. He squinted and scanned the area beyond the light again, searching for any movement or lighter spot in the darkness. He swung his head to the right.

Blue light flashed on a silver blade.

Drew grinned. Fighting a knife was a thousand times better than fighting a gun. The smaller man rushed into the light, knife held underhand and sideways, at gut level, a sign that the guy knew how to use it. His hat still shaded most of his face, but Drew could see the angry snarl below the shadow.

At the same moment, the big man jumped toward Drew again.

Drew pushed off to his left, grabbing the big man’s shoulder as he brushed by and giving him an extra push so he slammed face first into the building. He bounced back, making a nice shield between Drew and the other guy. Before the big man could fully recover, Drew rammed into him, sending him staggering toward his buddy. He wondered if the smaller man had the presence of mind to control the knife.

He didn’t wait to see. He still had his keys clutched in his hand so he leaped for the door and unlocked it. He could fight two guys all night, but unless he knocked one unconscious, it would be pretty hard to subdue them both at once. If he could get one of them to follow him inside, and lock the door again before the other one got there, he might be able to keep a prisoner and ask a few questions.

He ducked behind the door, waiting to shove it closed the moment one of them came in. Even if the other was right behind, the impact of the door might bounce him back out.

A few seconds passed. Drew heard mumbles and scuffles outside. No one appeared in the doorway. He tensed at the sound of footsteps on the tarmac, but they faded into the night. He hesitated, suspecting a trap if he stuck his head outside again.

A door slammed.

Drew crouched low and rushed through the doorway, hoping that if anybody was waiting beside the door they would swing or grab higher up.

He heard a car engine start. Headlights flashed on behind the building. The SUV bounced over the rough desert with a screech, like fingernails on a blackboard, as they scraped past a patch of some tough brush. He hoped it messed up their paint job.

Drew considered following in his truck. If he went through the gate, he could probably catch them by the time they hit the road. On the other hand, he didn’t like leaving his helicopter out unattended. He should check the hangar and his truck carefully as well, in case of sabotage. They probably wouldn’t have done anything yet, if they’d hoped to bribe him into giving up information, but better safe than sorry.

He returned to the hangar, rubbing the back of his head. It throbbed a bit now that he had time to pay attention. He had to figure out what to do. The good news was they apparently didn’t know where Erin and Camie were. Drew had hoped that by sounding open to bribery, but asking for more money, he might delay them a day or two. That had failed. Nor had he found out who they were or if they were connected to Mitchell. But he had found out they were serious. What would they do next?

They wouldn’t give up, that was for sure. They might approach Drew again, with more cash or a bigger threat—he’d have to stay on his guard. They might search Erin’s house again, looking for a clue. They’d shown how easily they could get in and out. Drew didn’t have time to mount a 24-hour guard, and he didn’t know people here well enough to be sure of trusting someone else. He had to hope her clues were well hidden. The thugs might also rent a plane and do sweeps, looking for signs of the treasure hunters. Hopefully they would be looking in the wrong area, but maybe they had somehow figured out that the treasure wasn’t at Victorio Peak after all.

Erin and Camie should know what was happening. Then they could be prepared. But they’d said they’d keep their phones off, not just to conserve the batteries but for fear that somebody might track them through the signal. That meant they weren’t even checking messages. The only way to reach them was to fly down and find them.

Drew smiled. Somehow he didn’t at all mind the thought of heading down there the next day and finding out just what those interesting women were doing.

Erin and Camie woke when dawn lit the desert. Camie heated water over a camp stove so they could make oatmeal and tea. It felt good to heat up from the inside, though Erin knew the next couple of hours would bring a 25 or 30 degree temperature rise, and she’d be glad for her light-colored clothing, wide-brimmed hat, and sunscreen.

They secured their sleeping bags in rubber tubs to prevent critters from sneaking in while they were away and then tidied camp, tucking everything under a slight overhang that would provide some shade and help mask their gear from the air. They’d studied the petroglyph map the afternoon before, compared it to the photograph, and made a plan. With small backpacks filled with water, snacks, and other necessities, they headed out to search for treasure.

Camie adjusted her hat, trying vainly to contain the curls too short for her ponytail. “Remember to watch out for snakes, especially if you have to step down off a rock and you can’t see the base of it.”

“I got it. You know, for all the talk about snakes, I’ve lived here for two years and haven’t even seen a rattler.”

Camie grinned. “We’ll see if we can rustle one up for you. They’re pretty cool—from a distance.”

Camie turned on her GPS and they started walking. Tiger kept pace with them, sometimes disappearing for a few minutes but never for long. When he got tired, he planted himself in front of Camie with a loud meow, and she let him ride on the top of her backpack. The sun rose at their backs, breaking up the deep shadows of the arroyo with sparkling patches of sand and glowing reddish rock.

The early birdsong faded, to be replaced by the occasional faint scuffle of a lizard skittering away or the buzz of insects. Once, Erin heard a faint sound on the cliff edge near her head and looked up, expecting to see Tiger. A broad cow face gazed back at her, its jaw working as it chewed its cud.

Erin chuckled. “Don’t look now, but we’re not alone.”

Camie glanced at the cow. “The BLM rents land to ranchers. We’ll probably see plenty of cows today. Maybe even a ranch house. And if we’re really lucky, a sexy cowboy or two.”

A week ago Erin would have said cowboys weren’t her type. Now she kept her mouth shut.

The sky above was a glorious blue from horizon to horizon. Erin knew that if it stayed clear, it could easily get into the 80s. At least people were right about the dry heat being more tolerable. It might be tempting to wish for some cloud cover, but in the southwest desert, clouds often meant rainstorms and that would bring their treasure hunt to a screeching halt. Finding shelter would be almost impossible, too. Big trees could attract lightning, and the arroyo, which might offer occasional shelter with an overhanging cliff, carried the danger of flash floods. That meant they would be stuck out in the open or huddled next to some lump of rock. The monsoon rains—brief afternoon thunderstorms—supposedly came mostly in late July and August, but in Erin’s short experience, they could hit year round. At least yesterday’s western clouds had vanished.

They kept the pace leisurely, checking the landscape carefully against the marks on the map. The arroyo deepened and became more of a canyon, with lovely wavy sandstone walls. The rock-walled canyon might have changed over the last century, but not as much as the arroyo, where the walls had been dirt and loose mudstone. Flash floods could remove or deposit several feet of dirt on the canyon floor and transport boulders the size of small cars, but the sandstone walls would change slowly, worn down by water and wind almost imperceptibly. Their map should hold true.

The canyon walls grew taller, rising to over 20 feet. They closed in suddenly, narrowing to an opening maybe three feet wide. A gray cliff eight feet tall blocked their way, forming a high step up into the next section of canyon. Erin could imagine water rushing through that slot and pouring down the gray cliff, smoothing the rock into sensual curves and depositing the loose, pale sand under their feet.