Devil's Gold (11 page)

“You reading my mind again, boss?” Steve winked and turned, signaling to the pilot to drop the ramp.

Cassidy turned, and her gaze hardened. “Give me the briefcase, Hercules. You can grab my duffel bag.” She climbed into the Jeep. “But be careful. It contains fragile items.”

Jake eyed the bag that she'd sent sailing out the plane's door. He grinned and went to rescue it from the barren ground. With the likes of Cassidy Lowell around, this assignment suddenly didn't seem quite so boring.

Cassidy watched Jake out of the corner of her eye. She didn't like his type. Too masculine. Narrowing her eyes, she scrutinized him. He certainly didn't carry himself like any biologist she'd ever met. Shaggy black hair hung past his shoulders, softening the sharp angles of his face.

Laugh lines crinkled when he smiled. He and Steve were tossing insults at one another via the two-way radio. She twisted in her seat and waved to her best friend, his face barely recognizable behind the tinted glass of the modified camper.

Wind whipped strands of hair against her cheek, and Cassidy held it back from her eyes. She loved the feeling of riding in the open-topped Jeep but refrained from allowing it to show in front of her biologist. Something about him struck a caution cord.

She cocked her head, thankful that her sunglasses masked her scrutiny. Strong hands. Strong arms. Confident to the point of cocky. Nope. She'd never met a biologist like this before.

Sighing deeply, she rooted in her handbag for a ponytail holder, quickly gathering her hair and pulling it through the loop. Better. Maybe now she could focus on the road instead of blinking back tears from wind-whipped hair.

“You okay?” Jake's question interrupted her thoughts.

“Fine.”

“You're very quiet. Don't you have any questions regarding where we're at with our investigation?”

Sighing in exasperation, Cassidy snapped, “Shut up, Jake Anderson. I'm concentrating on my personal anguish.”

“You're what?” The glare she tossed him over the rim of her glasses quelled any further response. Good. She had no desire to talk, about either herself or the assignment.

She felt the mountains closing in. Cassidy chewed on her bottom lip; she'd thought she could handle it. Had convinced herself, in fact. But now, with the familiar backdrop of peaks and plains, she felt her heart hammer against her chest with such intensity she was certain it couldn't be healthy.

You're a weak one, Dr. Lowell
. She hummed the tune from
The Grinch
, trying to find words that would make her laugh and not weep. “This is my job. I can do this. It's only Jackson.”

“Excuse me?” Jake said.

“What?”

He leaned across her toward the glove compartment, his arm brushing against her thighs. “You said something.”

If this was his idea of flirting, she wasn't impressed, nor was she interested.

Flipping open the compartment, he retrieved a pair of sunglasses and popped them on his face. “So, what did you say?”

“Nothing.”

“Yes, you did. Something about this is my job …”

She crossed her arms over her chest and bit back the irritated none-of-your-business blurb, not wanting to sound like a complete idiot. “I tend to talk to myself.” Narrowing her eyes, she dared him to comment further.

Jake glanced at her quickly, her reflection wavering in his mirrored glasses. “Nothing wrong with that,” he said. “I do the same. Actually, I'm such a social moron that most of the time I'm the only person interested in listening to what I have to say.”

Cassidy bit her lip, but it was too late. Laughter bubbled up and spilled from her mouth in waves of pent up emotion. She couldn't believe how horribly she'd been behaving. It wasn't like her. “Yes,” she hiccupped. “I think that's it exactly.”

“Friends?”

She eyed him, squinting against the sun that poured through the windshield. She rubbed her forehead and tilted her face to the warmth of the rays. “No. I'm the boss, and you're my biologist. But considering we're both in the same proximity, we might as well appear slightly sane and speak to one another instead of ourselves.”

The corner of Jake's mouth twitched up in a grin, and he shook his head at Cassidy. She put on her sweetest smile, waiting for him to say something that would no doubt piss her off. Cassidy didn't like the sudden affinity he'd created; she'd do her best to keep her guard up.

He winked. “Strictly business then. Last week the pre-unit arrived and began gathering data from the locals.”

Cassidy focused her attention on his words, snatching a small pad from the side of her messenger bag in case she needed to take notes. “Locals?”

“Park Rangers. The local authorities responsible for all aspects of Yellowstone.”

“I know what the Rangers do.”

Jake nodded. “Right. You worked here, didn't you?”

“It was a job.” He cocked his head in her direction, and she figured he was probably shooting her a very nasty look behind those aviator glasses. “Continue.”

“We've verified the statistics. And you won't like them. In less than a week, more than sixteen wolves have dropped off the radar.”

Cassidy fell into silence. Her mind whirled around facts, figures, and possible answers. “That's impossible.”

“My thought exactly.”

The entrance to Yellowstone loomed ahead. Wooden guard houses paused traffic, collecting fees and handing out maps. Jake slowed the vehicle, and Cassidy averted her eyes from the large timbers that marked the entrance and stared at her hands, feeling a sudden wave of insecurity.

Jake flipped open his identification wallet, and the guard waved them through without demanding an entrance fee.

Cassidy gave up trying to prevent her eyes from feasting on the familiar surroundings. Even though she didn't want the pain, she couldn't fight the call. The depth of green that painted both sides of the road drew her attention. Behind the dense brush and hundred-foot lodge pole pines hid a vast array of wildlife. She'd been fascinated as a child, intrigued as an adolescent, and incurably addicted by eighteen.

This is what had shaped her.

Her passion for animals had begun right here, at her father's side. She missed him.

Cassidy needed to concentrate on her assignment. But the geysers called. She could almost feel the mist of Old Faithful, and the sulfur scent of the hot springs that surrounded Yellowstone's hydrothermal basin crept into her senses. It felt like a champagne cork had exploded, allowing her memories to shoot out and touch the crystal sky above.

Scooting forward in her seat, she gripped the edge of the dash.

“How does it feel, Sunshine?”

“What?” Her mind was only partially on the conversation.

“To be home?”

Cassidy bit her bottom lip and sat back in her seat. A million memories flickered through her mind blinking on and off rapidly, leaving her confused and slightly disjointed. The buzzing of whispered words long past rang in her ear. She inhaled and shredded the mist that threatened to emotionally cripple her. Glaring at Jake, she pointed a nail-bitten finger in his direction. “My feelings or lack thereof are none of your business. I'm here on assignment, and that's all you need to concern yourself with.”

His shoulders moved in a slight shrug at the sharpness of her words, and he turned to face the road again. “Whatever you say, Sunshine.”

Irritation scratched the back of her neck. The ghost of summers past had a hold on her, and it was making her ultra-sensitive. She mentally smoothed away her annoyance and focused on the facts of the assignment.

Wait one damn second.

There was definitely something about Jake Anderson that warranted this sense of aggravation. She frowned, thinking about their conversation.

Did he keep calling her
sunshine?

Her mouth dropped open, and she snatched her glasses off, glaring at him. “You're a real condescending jackass,” she finally said.

“I think, Goldilocks…” He reached over and tugged on her ponytail, causing her to pull back and smack her funny bone on the hard metal of the Jeep door. “You bring out the best in me.”

W
HEN
J
AKE PULLED IN FRONT OF
L
AKE
Y
ELLOWSTONE
H
OTEL
, Cassidy's breath caught. Her eyes followed the length of the bright white pillars supporting the four-story front porticoes. Its history dated back to the late nineteenth century, and she could recite it as easily as she could the Lord's Prayer. Pale yellow paint decorated the antique building's exterior, an odd contrast to the dark, woodsy setting.

Memories played through her mind, unnerving yet comforting.

She'd spent most of her childhood romping across the long slope of grass that dipped toward Lake Yellowstone, making this place a home away from home. She was here, and she'd better deal with it. Running her hand down one of the imposing columns, she let her eyes sweep upward to where it connected with the roof leaving a comfortable corner for nesting birds. She closed her eyes and imagined the past, remembering the scent of fresh sawed wood laced with burnt pine from the ever-steady fire that disintegrated discarded debris. It seemed so real that a tickle of warmth and comfort filled her chest.

She felt the heat from Jake's presence against her back and then the touch of his hand upon her shoulder. “Snap out of it, Sunshine. The day's a wasting.”

She sighed, slipping back into the present. “Nostalgia's an evil thing.” Cassidy needed to concentrate and focus. A truck backfired in the parking lot and she jumped, her hand clutching at her chest to stop the pounding of her heart.

Jake patted her back. “Easy, kiddo. It's just a bum muffler.”

Cassidy moved away from his touch and swore beneath her breath. This had to stop. If every bang and jolt brought visions and nightmares of Africa, she'd become a raging lunatic before autumn had a chance to smack the mountains with color. “Sorry. I must still be a bit raw from that landing.” She stepped away from the pillar and snagged the messenger bag Jake dropped by her feet.

Steve pushed between them. “Need to drain the main vein,” he said.

Cassidy groaned, and Jake chuckled. “Take a left down the main hall and follow the signs to the presidential suite,” Jake called after him.

“Ten-four.” He waved and disappeared into the lobby.

“Do you know this is the oldest standing hotel in Yellowstone?” She walked slowly past him and headed toward the front entrance.

Jake glanced around and shrugged. “It sure has a nice view.” He kept pace with her.

“That it does.” Walking toward the glass door, Cassidy continued her history lesson. “The building was first completed in 1891. Of course, the architecture was less sophisticated than what you see today, but still it was mighty impressive. Stagecoaches would pull right up here, next to the front doors.”

Jake pulled the door open and allowed her to step through. “In 1903,” she continued, “Robert Reamer decided it needed a facelift and added his own colonial touches. Those false balconies and dormers outside were his idea, as well as additional columns.”

“And you would know this because?”

Cassidy paused, ignoring his question. She absorbed the large, gracious lobby with hardwood floors that gleamed in the late afternoon sun. The scent of fresh brewed coffee wafted from the lounge to the left. A wavering reflection of the lake played through the full-sized windows that arched across the front. She ignored his last question and continued to soak in her surroundings. “This place declined drastically over time until it was known as nothing more than Bat Alley.”

“Bat Alley, huh? I guess there were more than cobwebs hanging from the rafters.”

Cassidy moved toward the heart of the lobby and stopped in front of a large picture. Tapping on the grainy surface of a face that rose behind a group of men, she smiled. “This is my father. He helped bring back Robert Reamer's dream. It took these men almost ten years of triumphs and failures to realize that man's vision. But it was worth it, wouldn't you say?”

“Yes,” Jake said softly. “I'd agree.” Dropping her duffel bag, he peered closer at the picture. His scrutiny didn't sit well with her.

Squaring her shoulders, she stepped back and looked at her biologist. “And here ends our history lesson for today. Shall I get checked in so that we can get on with this game?”

Jake picked up Cassidy's bag and headed down a side hall. “No need. We're in the presidential suite.” Shock kept her rooted in place as she watched him walk down a wide hallway carpeted with thin multicolored commercial Berber. After a few seconds, he turned to look at her. “Coming?”

“We? Did you say we?”

“Yes, Sunshine. But don't worry, there's two bedrooms. The sitting room has been relegated to command central. We drew straws for room assignments, and you won.” He shrugged. “Or lost, depending how you view it.”