Chapter 10 #2
“We need to get down. Now.” Teague was already organizing the descent. “Before anything else decides to fall.”
They rappelled in tense silence. Marcus first, under Xander’s watchful eye. Then Teague, ribs screaming. Then Eden. Xander brought up the rear.
By the time they reached the canyon floor, the sun was well above the rim. Sweat cut tracks through the dust on Teague’s face. He unclipped from his harness and turned to face Marcus.
The man stood apart from the group. His expensive gear was coated in dust. His hands wouldn’t stop shaking.
“We need to talk.” Teague kept his voice level. “About what just happened. And about why you’re really out here.”
Because whatever was driving Marcus—whatever secret he was hiding—had just nearly gotten them all killed.
And Teague was done pretending he didn’t see it.
Two days into a treasure hunt with Teague Hamilton, and Eden still couldn’t decide if she wanted to kiss him again or push him off a cliff.
She’d survived watching him nearly fall to his death, then nearly die in a cave collapse trying to save her.
He was both the embodiment of everything she feared and everything she wanted most. She should do the smart thing and keep her guard up, and yet she couldn’t convince herself to regret the kiss they’d shared.
He’d put himself in harm’s way once again. But how could she be mad when he’d done it for her?
The dirt crunched beneath her boots as they followed the trail in complete silence.
Each step stirred clouds of fine red dust, the air thick with sage and the faint mineral scent of the Colorado River deeper in the canyon.
Heat pressed down from the midday sun, shimmering off limestone walls that rose a thousand feet on either side.
Up ahead, Marcus trudged along the trail, still clutching that ridiculous rock hammer. The one he’d used this morning to nearly bring a cave down on top of them.
Teague adjusted his pack, grimacing slightly. The bruises from his forty-foot fall yesterday had to still be screaming at him, not to mention the deep scratch now gracing his shoulder, but he hadn’t complained once.
She dropped into step next to him. “Do you want me to take some of your weight?”
“No.”
“Then maybe Xander—”
“I’m fine.”
Stubborn man.
But she let it go, and they reached camp as the sun climbed toward its peak.
Their gear bags clustered near a fire ring of blackened stones, bedrolls spread across the pale limestone in bright splashes of color.
Xander stood near the water filtration system, his massive frame casting a shadow across the equipment.
The ranger’s blue-gray eyes tracked Marcus with quiet intensity. He didn’t say anything, but he didn’t need to. Xander communicated plenty with silence.
Teague dropped his pack and turned to face Marcus. The easy humor vanished from his expression. “We need to talk.”
Marcus’s grip tightened on his rock hammer. Limestone dust coated his expensive hiking clothes, and his brown hair stuck up at odd angles. “About what?”
“About the part where you almost got us killed.” Teague’s voice stayed level, but there was steel underneath. “What were you thinking?”
“I was trying to help—”
“Help with what, exactly?” Eden stepped forward. “You ignored every warning. Rushed into an unstable cave. Started chipping at the walls while rocks were falling around us.”
Marcus’s face cycled through several colors. White. Pink. Red. Back to white. “I thought I saw something—”
“What?” Teague stepped closer. “What are you really looking for, Marcus? Because this isn’t just about Roosevelt’s cache. There’s something more going on here for you. Has been since day one.”
Something flickered across Marcus’s face. Not quite fear. Not quite guilt. Something in between.
“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Really?” Eden crossed her arms. “Because you’ve been searching every cave like it holds something smaller than a sizable chest. You brought gear you don’t know how to use and a rock hammer you never mentioned.” She held his gaze. “What are you looking for?”
Marcus shook his head. “I can’t—there’s nothing to share.”
Teague let out a slow breath. “Until you can be straight with us, you’re grounded. No more climbs.”
“What?” Marcus’s voice pitched higher. “You can’t do that.”
“Already did.” Teague’s tone left no room for negotiation. “You stay in camp with Xander while Eden and I finish today’s climbs.”
“But the cache—”
“We’ll find it if it’s there.” Teague turned away. “Eat something. Hydrate. Rest. We leave in an hour.”
Marcus stood frozen, his face working through anger and frustration and something that looked almost like grief. Then he stalked off toward his gear, rock hammer still clutched in one white-knuckled hand.
Eden moved closer to Teague, lowering her voice. “Think he’ll actually tell us?”
“Eventually.” Teague rubbed a hand across his face. “But not today.”
“And in the meantime?”
“In the meantime, we keep him from getting anyone killed.” Teague’s grin returned.
“You say that like it’s easy. This may not be the time for your ridiculous level of optimism.”
“You’re just a pessimist.”
“I prefer ‘realist.’”
“That’s what all the pessimists say.”
That grin again.
They ate lunch in silence—trail mix and jerky washed down with filtered water that tasted of minerals. Marcus sat apart from the group, food untouched. Xander checked the climbing gear with methodical precision.
And Teague sat close enough to Eden that their shoulders touched. A steady warmth she was trying very hard not to become addicted to. But would that be so bad?
Maybe she’d been too hasty in comparing him to Landon. Landon had always been about the danger for the sake of the thrill. Teague only sought danger to protect—to save.
I made sure you were safe. I won’t apologize for that. Ever.
The memory of the words still sent a thrill down her spine. She had never felt more protected, more safe with another human being.
She had definitely opened the door. But could she go all in? For the first time in a long time, the thought didn’t come with the thread of fear.
An hour later, they were on the trail again. Just the two of them.
“You know,” Teague said, breaking the comfortable silence, “this was supposed to be straightforward. Find some caves, locate Roosevelt’s cache, reopen the campground. Maybe get a medal.”
“You wanted a medal?”
“I wanted the option of a medal. There’s a difference.”
She laughed—a real one that surprised her. The sound echoed off the canyon walls, startling a lizard into a crack in the limestone. “And now?”
“Now we’ve got a radio on the fritz, a guy with secrets, and a few injuries plaguing us.” He grinned. “So much for straightforward.”
The trail wound through juniper and sage, the scent rising around them in the afternoon heat. A hawk circled overhead, riding the thermals with effortless grace.
The next climb was shorter—eighty feet to a cave entrance that looked more like a shallow overhang from below. Eden led, moving with confidence that was slowly returning to her muscles and mind.
The rock was solid under her hands. Good edges. Bomber jugs. The kind of features that inspired trust. She placed protection methodically, each cam sliding into cracks with satisfying precision.
No second-guessing. No panic. Just movement and breath and the simple joy of solving problems in vertical space.
Teague followed, his movements careful but steady. She caught him wincing when he reached too far, but he didn’t slow down.
They reached the cave together, and Eden checked it first. Her headlamp cut through the shallow space.
Empty.
“Nothing.” She backed out. “Maybe ten feet deep. Natural formation. No signs anyone’s even been in here.”
“That makes three caves and nothing to show for it.” Teague sat on the ledge outside the entrance, legs dangling over the edge. The canyon dropped away before them, the afternoon light painting everything gold. “Only two more caves after this. If Liam’s team doesn’t have any better luck, then—”
“Then we go back to the map, find more options and keep looking.” Eden settled beside him, close enough that their thighs touched. “There are many more caves.”
“Ever the optimist.”