Get Lucky (14 page)

The phone rang and she jumped. “Shit,” she hissed. She was working herself into a frenzy and over what? If she would just focus on her work, it could be as if none of this had ever happened. As she grabbed the receiver and answered, her voice sounded foreign to her.

“Elk Ski Lodge. May I help you?”

“London?”

Her heart stopped beating, which created a fierce pain in her chest. The deep baritone in her ear spoke her name, and she swore he stood right behind her.

“This is London,”

“London, it’s me: Marc. Don’t hang up.”

So he assumed she would be outraged. Well, she was. And it was grossly unfair of him to call her at work, where she couldn’t give him a piece of her mind for not even saying good-bye.

“Why did you leave?” she demanded, her heart refusing to beat until the one question that had plagued her was finally answered.

There was silence on the other end of the line. He’d called her and still didn’t have a ready answer to give her, which meant he was considering several possible answers.

“I know who you are,” she blurted out, staring at the computer screen.

“What?” Suddenly he wasn’t speechless. “London, I didn’t want to leave like that. I want to see you again, and soon. I mean that. There was a family crisis and I didn’t think. I jumped in my car and raced home as fast as I could.”

She wasn’t sure what she expected him to say, but that wasn’t it. Although family didn’t mean much to her, London understood the bond that could exist. Meryl came from a family that was always calling, that cared and sought her out on a regular basis. She was always talking about them. Meryl couldn’t hold a conversation without bringing up a brother or sister or parent. London knew what family could mean.

“I hope nothing terrible has happened,” she said, and suddenly felt numb.

Marc was gone. He’d left because of his family. He was calling to apologize and to tell her he wanted to see her again. He didn’t say when. She struggled with the lump growing in her throat. Her anger toward him faded. He was calling and giving her closure.

“Actually, yes, something has happened to my parents.” He cleared his throat. “I don’t know how long it will take to clear this up. If you’re willing, though, I’d like to have your cell phone number. I’ll give you mine if you’ll call me.”

“So we’re going to have some kind of long-distance relationship?” She wasn’t sure why she snapped at him. She didn’t want him out of her life. But long-distance relationships didn’t work and she didn’t want to continue missing the hell out of him. “We can exchange numbers, Marc. But you’re gone. I think you know as well as I do that you won’t be coming back. There’s no reason to keep talking and pretend something could come from the few incredible moments we had together when we both know that isn’t how life works.”

“Why did you say you knew who I was?” he asked instead of commenting on what she just said.

“I googled your name.” London didn’t see any reason to lie. Even if he had been evasive about his life, it didn’t mean she would be vague as well. “I have enough confusing stuff going on in my life right now and didn’t want you to be one of them.”

“What did you find?”

“I found King Fugitive Apprehension. I know you’re a bounty hunter.”

“I guess I should have told you. I’m accustomed to not offering details about my life. I find people for a living. That’s why I had to come home. My parents have disappeared.”

Chapter Eight

Marc leaned against the side of his car, squinting against the bright sun, and waited for his brother to come out of the sporting-goods store. “Are you still there?” Marc asked when a moment of silence seemed to stretch on.

“Give me your cell phone number,” London said, her soft, sultry voice dropping to almost a whisper. “I have some issues to deal with, and it might not hurt having an unbiased party to talk to about them.”

He didn’t think of himself as unbiased when it came to London. “Is something wrong?”

“I’m not sure,” she said slowly.

Marc heard the beeping in his cell phone before she added, “There’s another call coming in.”

“I’ll hold,” he told her.

“Call me tonight.” She rattled off her cell phone number.

Marc reached into his car, scrounged for a pen, and wrote her number on his palm. “I will definitely call you tonight, sweetheart. And London?”

“Yes?”

“I’m going to see you again.”

“Good-bye.” London hung up without saying anything else.

It hadn’t exactly been the phone call he’d imagined, and Marc had worked up so many different scenarios of how London would react to him calling. Glancing up and down the street, he guessed by the angle that he stood approximately right where his parents had been when the last pictures were taken. He and Jake had spent the weekend talking to shop owners along this strip. About all they’d learned so far was that everyone in this town seemed really friendly and willing to talk to them about pretty much anything. But no one had seen anyone who looked like the men in the pictures or their parents.

“Nothing,” Jake said as he met up with Marc a few minutes later. “We’ve hit every shop on this block now.”

“I know.” Marc clasped his phone to his belt and opened his car door.

“Who were you talking to?” Jake asked, sliding in on the passenger side.

“London.”

“Oh yeah? Got something going on there?”

“Kind of hard to do when she’s in Colorado and I’m not.”

They pulled into a gas station and Marc stopped at the pump, wishing they could pull off some kind of lead. He didn’t feel right about returning home, but they’d been here all weekend and they didn’t have solid proof their parents had even been here.

“It’s really hard to believe no one would have noticed strangers on the street, especially when Dad is six foot, four inches,” Jake complained when they stood inside the station staring at the candy bar selection. He grabbed a Snickers candy bar and winked at a young woman when she came out of the back room carrying a bucket of ice. “Nice ass,” he mumbled under his breath when the woman turned her back to them and stretched to dump the ice into the soda fountain machine. “Even if it was dark,” he continued, snagging a bag of Doritos, “the men on either side of Dad weren’t that much shorter than he was. People notice really large men, just like they notice hot women.”

“People notice rude people more,” the young woman said, walking past them to the counter.

It didn’t surprise Marc that her comment didn’t sway Jake.

“Tell me about it,” Jake said, placing the junk food he’d selected on the counter, then leaning against it, putting himself eye to eye with the clerk, who couldn’t be more than twenty years old at the most. Jake had no scruples. “A job like this would have to make you a tough lady, putting up with bullshit all the time.”

She straightened, glancing from Jake to Marc. Mascara was on thick, and when she batted her lashes it appeared a black canopy flashed over her dark eyes. “You’re nothing compared to some people who come in here.”

“Darling, I’m as harmless as a pussycat. Most guys my size are extremely gentle by nature.”

She snorted, proving she was young but not gullible. “That is so not true,” she said, grabbing his bag of chips and scanning them, then reaching for the candy bar. “These guys in here a couple days ago were real pigs. Kept going on about some lady that was with them and how hot she was. I could see her out in the car. She was old and didn’t look happy at all. They weren’t doing anything for her.” The girl giggled. “I guess that is proof that size doesn’t matter.”

“Trust me, size matters,” Jake drawled. “Did you see those guys Friday night? Were there two guys? Both wearing long trench coats and kind of seedy looking?”

“There were four guys.” She wrinkled her nose, again shooting Marc a furtive look before returning her attention to Jake and wetting her lips. “Yeah. It was Friday night and they were wearing long coats that went down to their knees. They thought they were all that, worse than you,” she added, smiling innocently at Jake.

Marc guessed her anything but innocent.

“Darling, I can trust you, can’t I?” Jake changed his tone, dropping it to a deep baritone as he moved his hand across the counter and tapped her wrist with his fingers. “We aren’t cops or anything.”

The girl’s eyes went large.

“My brother and I are here looking for my sister,” he continued, pulling his hand away and focusing on his fingernails. He took a moment, allowing some silence to pass and build the moment. Jake was the master; no one who knew him would deny that. He could work a lady any way he wanted. “I won’t give you all the details, but let’s just say a gambling debt went bad.”

“That happened to my uncle Charlie,” she said, snapping her fingers and pointing at Jake with stubby nails that were painted green.

Jake nodded. “Then you know,” he said quietly.

“So that lady with all those men was your sister? You sure? She really did look kind of old. Maybe it wasn’t her.”

“These guys were as big as me and my brother?”

She smiled. “No. Not at all. They were big, but not that big.” She blushed and messed with Jake’s candy bar and bag of chips. “Was there anything else you needed?” she asked without looking at either of them.

“Just peace of mind, darling. You remember which way they went?”

“Yeah. I heard them talking. They were headed down to Canyon Diablo. You’re driving into bum-fucked Egypt, though, if you’re chasing the wrong guys,” she said, and finished ringing up Jake’s purchases.

Jake straightened and pulled out his wallet. “It’s worth it for my sister. I kill for those I care about,” he added, once again using his lazy drawl.

She took his money and rang in the purchase. “I hope you find her. Where you-all from?”

“North of here,” Jake lied. “Not too far. We’ll catch them.”

“I hope these aren’t your guys. They were freaks. Kept talking about action figures. What a thing for grown men to talk about!” She shook her head and counted out Jake’s change.

Marc’s insides hardened. They had their guys. He hadn’t dared hope for a lead this strong. It was all he could do not to slap Jake on the back. Instead, Marc pulled out a couple twenties and dropped them on the counter. “Gas on pump one,” he told her, and followed his brother outside.

“So what do you think?” Jake asked, looking at Marc over the hood of the Mustang as Marc pumped gas. “Think we should check out of that motel and head down to Canyon Diablo?”

“I think we should head back to the room and check a few things out online.” Marc glanced around the gas station parking lot and also at the cars driving up and down the street. “Last I knew, though, Canyon Diablo was a ghost town.”

“I know.” Jake grinned at him.

“‘Ghost town’ meaning there isn’t anything there.”

*   *   *

None of this sat right with Marc. Granted, it had taken them the weekend to come this far, but it still seemed a bit too easy. They didn’t have Mom and Dad back, but Marc couldn’t shake the unnerving sensation that he needed to be watching his back more than he was. He stared at the TV in their motel room, not seeing or caring what was on but instead trying to get a grip on their current situation.

“You’re right about nothing being there. Apparently there are the remains of a few buildings and some graves. But at one point the town was wilder than Tombstone, according to this article.” Jake sat at the table in the corner of the room, hunched over the laptop they’d brought. He stretched his long legs under the table and ripped open his Doritos. “I do still got it, though,” he added, rocking the chair back as he popped a Dorito in his mouth and gave Marc a crooked grin.

“Yeah, you still got it.” Marc shook his head at Jake. “Just don’t give it to me.”

“You wouldn’t know how to handle my gift with women.” Jake dug out a few more Doritos and tossed them in his mouth, then licked his lips with a dramatic flare. “Canyon Diablo isn’t too far from here. We might be better off leaving our shit here, though, and just driving down there to see what there is to see.”

“Probably.” Marc leaned back on the bed, shifting his attention to the ceiling. “That girl at the gas station might have heard them mention Canyon Diablo and it doesn’t mean that was where they were headed.”

“What are the chances whoever sent us those pictures would have known we would recognize the buildings in the background?”

“I agree,” Marc said, focusing on his brother. “I keep trying to wrap my brain around all of it. There’s no way they would have known we went on vacation here as kids. The chances are too slim.”

“You think we’re being set up?” Jake rocked back in his chair.

“Something doesn’t feel right.”

“A lot of it doesn’t feel right. We get pictures and broken action figures?” Jake clasped his hands behind his head, forcing his already-tousled hair to stick out through his fingers.

Another time his appearance might have been worth giving him shit over. Marc was too distracted trying to see the full picture to take time to harass Jake. He couldn’t help thinking he was missing something and it was right under his nose.

“We’ll drive down there. We’ll type in ‘Canyon Diablo’ in the GPS in the car. I don’t know whether we’re wasting our time and gas or if we seriously should watch our asses.”

“I know. Me, too.” Jake leaned forward, causing his chair to bang against the floor. “We are heading down to a place that was once one of the most unlawful towns in the West. Might be a good idea to go armed and loaded.”

“You worried about ghosts?” Marc laughed and shook his head.

“Most definitely,” Jake grumbled and wasn’t smiling.

Their boots crunched over the snow as Marc and Jake walked across the uneven terrain. It was an extreme contrast from the Rocky Mountains although, strangely enough, just as breathtaking. Marc imagined the settlers who helped build the buildings that once made up this town. All that was left were white rocks, remnants of the foundation from a store or post office, long since gone.

“You can almost feel the energy from the derelicts who once stood right here,” Jake said, squatting down and staring at the dilapidated ruin in front of them.

“I think you’re feeling the harsh north wind,” Marc said, squinting and taking in the horizon.

“No way, man. Men stood here and controlled their destiny. There weren’t any laws controlling them. Whoever was the better shot, or had more muscle, ruled the land.”

“There’s something to be said about a life like that,” Marc mused, turning slowly and taking in the vast stretch of land. Other than his car parked on the highway, there wasn’t anything to see for miles. “Sometimes you run into people who still live that way, too.”

“That’s what we have here.” Jake stood, turning to look in the same direction as Marc. “Someone else has been here recently,” he said, pointing to the ground and walking around the ruin.

Marc followed, spotting the footsteps in the snow when Jake pointed to them. An eerie sensation crept over Marc’s skin. It could have been anyone here. Tourists probably stopped by from time to time, standing as Marc and Jake were, staring at what once was, then headed on their way.

“I think it’s more than one set of footprints. You know it really sucks when you don’t have a clue who you’re hunting,” Jake complained.

“Right now we’re hunting our parents. But I agree. We don’t know shit about their captors.”

“And they know everything about us.”

Marc stared at the footprints in the snow. It hadn’t snowed since they’d been here, so the accumulation had been on the ground for a while. The prints were pretty clear, the indentations looking as if whoever made them wore boots from the heel and sole imprints. He turned around, staring at their own footprints.

“You know, we make pretty good footprints in the snow, too.” Marc retraced his steps, staring at the two sets of prints leading from his car. “It’s odd how these other prints start at the ruins and not from the road.”

“You’re right.” Jake met Marc’s gaze for a moment, his expression strained, before returning his attention to the ground. “And they don’t seem to go anywhere,” he added, following them around the rocks that were once a building.

“They’re either the ghosts you were feeling or someone attempted to brush away their tracks.” Marc walked over the tracks he’d made walking from the road and stared carefully at the snow. “Look. See there. It looks as if someone swept the snow. Look how it’s different here than it is over there.” He pointed to either side of his tracks.

Jake was right behind him. “You think someone was here and didn’t want anyone to know they were?” he asked, lowering his voice although they were very much alone.

Marc got a prickling sensation down the back of his neck and he pressed his hand against his flesh, rubbing his skin as he searched the ground around them. He hated being at a disadvantage. Worse yet, that eerie gut-wrenching feeling that he was overlooking something obvious was starting to get on his nerves. He wasn’t one to get panic attacks, but he worried that if he didn’t figure out soon what it was he was overlooking that it would be too late.

He jumped, grabbing Jake, when an explosion ripped through the air.

“What the fuck?” Jake howled as Marc tackled him to the ground.

They were big men and Jake was taller. Marc still took him down, instinct taking over to protect his younger brother as another shot sounded. The ground was hard, cold, and uneven. Small rocks stabbed different parts of Marc’s body, but he endured it, looking around frantically.

“We’ve got to make a run for it,” Marc said, grabbing Jake’s arm and dragging him to his knees. “I don’t see a goddamn soul anywhere.”

“Let’s go!” Jake scrambled to his knees just as someone shot at them again.

They were using a pretty powerful shotgun with damn good range. And they obviously weren’t concerned about anyone hearing them fire. Whoever was shooting also had damn good aim.

Marc swore he felt the bullet graze the side of his neck. It was worse than a nasty bug bite and he slapped himself, twisting in the direction of their shooter. Rugged ground covered with snow went on forever. There were groups of boulders sporadically here and there. If someone hid behind any of them they’d been positioned there for a while.

“Crap! Marc!” Jake hissed.

Marc turned and saw blood soaking Jake’s shirtsleeve. “Son of a bitch.”

He grabbed his brother, wrapping Jake’s uninjured arm around his shoulder, and ran, hauling almost all of Jake’s weight as he bolted for the car. There was another shot, then another. Reaching his car, he yanked open the passenger door, shoved his brother inside, and raced to the driver’s side.

“Man, I’m fucking bleeding worse than it hurts,” Jake complained. His face was lined with worry.

Marc wasn’t sure whether Jake looked paler or not. But he was bleeding worse than a stuck pig. “Keep your blood off my car,” Marc said. “And hold on.”

“No problem. You know me. All about bleeding neatly,” Jake hissed. “Just give me something to press against this hole in my body.”

Marc reached underneath his seat and grabbed his gun, turned on his car, and twisted to search his backseat for something to use as a temporary bandage. Finally yanking a shirt out of his duffel bag, he thrust it at Jake.

“Hold on,” Marc repeated, and spun his car around.

“Jesus Christ!” Jake swore, falling into Marc, then slamming against the car door as the tires spun on the highway.

“I told you—”

“I’m fucking holding on,” Jake snapped, and pressed the wadded-up shirt against his shoulder. The entire side of Jake’s shirt was quickly turning red. Not a good sign.

“We’ll put a Band-Aid on you here in a minute,” Marc said, gripping the wheel as he shoved it into first and accelerated, giving his car enough gas to make it fly down the road. “But first, turnabout is fair play.” He worried Jake might be more hurt than he at first thought. Giving him shit would keep him alert, though. Marc needed to find out who was shooting at them, and why.