Chapter 11
CHAPTER ELEVEN
I startle awake, my skin feeling clammy, like the air has been vacuumed out of my lungs, and the pounding in my head returns.
I should have unzipped the tent door before lying down.
I raise my wrist, noting only twenty minutes have gone by.
Jack is probably standing guard outside with an axe, ready to growl at anyone who passes too close.
I’ll have to teach him how to see the brighter side of things.
It’ll do him good to learn that not everything is a thriller with bad guys around every corner.
Sensing a little dehydration, I crawl out of my tent and immediately scowl at the sun. It’s still way too high for the number of hours I’ve been awake. Why is it not bedtime?
I shuffle into the flip-flops I doubted I’d need, grateful I brought them after all. Not having to shove my hot, tired feet into socks and dusty shoes is pretty close to heavenly.
My body feels like it’s aged ten years as I straighten, hobbling to peek inside Jack’s tent, only to find it empty. I smile at how he’s unpacked some of his things, arranging them neatly at the sides or hanging them from straps at the top of his tent. Total contrast to the chaos in mine.
Maybe he’s already come and gone somewhere else?
A rust-colored film of dust gathers, coating my feet as I shuffle to the picnic table. My movement halts, the sight of what’s pinned on a nearby tree squeezing my lungs. My arms go rigid, my fists curled in tight as I take measured steps forward.
Is this some kind of joke?
Every desaturated mauve shadow takes on a sinister hue as my eyes travel over the nearby rocky crevices. A bird squawks, and my eyes flinch back to the pocket knife ominously pinning my jacket and a torn scrap of paper to the tree.
The knife is sliced rudely through the beautiful coral fabric. I didn’t even get a chance to wear it.
“The hell?” Jack’s gravelly, fury-laced voice makes me jump. “Who did this?” He steps closer, ripping the note away, leaving a tiny corner of paper flapping under the blade.
I may not know him well, but I can tell this is a new level of anger for him.
“Leave the backpack, and nobody gets hurt,” he reads aloud before roughly dropping his hand, nostrils flaring.
Well, that answers my questions about Marigold’s weird little trinket being somehow involved in…whatever is going on. I grimace, biting my lip.
“So…there’s something I should probably tell you.
But don’t freak out,” I begin, raising my hands placatingly when Jack’s eyes become saucers.
“It’s all a misunderstanding, and you’ll see I’m completely innocent in this whole thing.
But you may want to rethink your tactics.
” A nervous laugh bubbles from my chest. I can’t tell if he’s two seconds from handcuffing me or if he wants to put me in a safe house.
A lot is happening on his face, and I’m still learning the nuances of his different scowls.
Jack yanks the knife out of the tree, knuckles white as he grips my jacket. His eyes do that surveying-the-area thing before he ushers me to sit at the table.
“Explain.”
“Your one-word commands only make me want to snuggle up to you,” I say as I take a seat, dusting my hands before folding them in my lap, but he ignores the comment.
“Before I say this, I’d like it on record that at no point have I committed any crime or intentionally taken part in nefarious activities.
” I give him a pleased smile, and he closes his eyes, pinching the bridge of his nose.
“That word intentionally being important right now, I’m guessing?”
“Exactly.” I nod.
Jack hands me a brown paper bag and a cup of cold lemonade before sighing and folding his arms, feet wide, jaw pulsing.
I greedily gulp down the lemonade, mumbling my thanks over and over again.
When the slurpy sounds of an empty cup echo through the straw, I open the bag filled with snacks, pull out an apple and a granola bar, and then I tell him about everything—needing a new backpack, the creepy door handle turning, and finally the discovery I made at the bottom of Marigold.
He’s silent, growling at certain parts, and by the time I’m done, his hand is covering his mouth, the other tucked under his arm as he stares at me like he doesn’t know what to do with me.
He shakes his head, stomping to my tent and ungracefully unzipping it to yank Marigold out, all while grumbling something under his breath. The only words I make out are magnet for trouble, and I can’t help but smile. Because I’m really just a magnet for him. The trouble is all coincidental.
“Show it to me.” He drops Marigold onto the picnic table with a thud. “Then I’m getting you out of this canyon.”
“Wh—now hold on just a minute, sir.” I stand, folding my arms to match his stance. “The only way I’m leaving this canyon,” I huff, dragging Marigold back inside my tent, “is on my own time and on my own two feet.”
“Willow, that thing you’ve found is worth tens of thousands of dollars,” he grinds out as a vein appears in his neck. “Someone stole an artifact from an archaeological site, and they want it back. And they’re not happy that you took it.”
Unfortunately for him, the grumpier he gets, the more appealing I find him.
“So much glaring,” I protest, bugging my eyes out for emphasis. “And I didn’t take the weird spearhead thing. I unintentionally assumed guardianship.”
“Regardless, you’re a target now. And I—”
“Then let me help you!” I interrupt him, my face lighting up like I’ve just solved world hunger. “You’re trying to catch these guys, right?”
It looks like it physically pains him to answer. “Yes.”
“Please, Jack. There’s no way I’m ending this hike early and letting you fly me out of here. So you might as well let me help you. I’ll do everything you say, I swear. But also, I insist.”
He purses his lips, eyes narrowing. I hold my breath as his boots take slow, crunching steps nearer.
“How are your head and your cheek?” His voice comes out softer while his soothing gaze flutters over my face.
I swallow the knot in my throat, my neck tilted up to peer into his eyes. “They’re fine,” I fib, not willing to admit the truth. But his scrutinizing gaze is like a hook, hauling a confession out of me. “But I could probably do with more pain medicine,” I add.
Another grunt rumbles out of his chest. He breaks eye contact, staring off into the distance for a few seconds before returning his glare to me.
“You do everything I say. We might need to take alternate routes every now and again. I’m not confronting these guys and risking putting you in danger.
I’m sure they’ll follow us out, and I’ll make sure I have backup when we get to the North Rim.
You stay close to me, no matter what.” He declares, jaw muscles pulsing.
I have no problem with that.
“Yes, sir.” I roll my lips in, looking up at him from beneath my lashes and failing to hide the evidence of a rogue smile.
His eyes do a heavy-lidded glance to the side as he shakes his head.
I’m sure there are all sorts of what have I gotten myself into statements tumbling about in his sexy head right now, while I grin like the Cheshire Cat.
This is all turning out to be delightfully adventurous.
He fishes more pain pills out of his backpack, watching me swallow them before nodding his head toward my tent. “Let me see this thing you’re smuggling.”
“Jack!” I gasp, catching the tiniest hint of a smirk at the corner of his lips. “Are you teasing me right now? Does the stoic Jack Blackstone know how to make a joke?”
“Blackstone?” One brow arches, looking entirely too seductive.
“You haven’t told me your last name, so I’m trying some out. Am I close?”
“Not even a little.” He pats me on the shoulder, leaving me pouting while he hangs his hat on the critter pole and climbs into my tent with his backpack.
“Uh, what are you doing?”
“Do you want an audience while showing me the goods?” he poses, that smirk looking a little more defined now, and that darn curl of hair luring me in.
He thinks he can unsettle me, but I invented this game.
It takes a whole lot more to make this girl blush.
I might actually die and go to heaven if I can make his cheeks assume a rosy hue, though.
“I’ll show you mine if you show me yours,” I tease.
He releases a cough, the slightest crimson tinge creeping up his neck.
The sight is better than any trophy.
“Can you just show it to me, please, so I can put it in my bag?”
“Well, you almost set me up for a perfect that’s what she said, but then you had to go ruin it with specifics at the end.” I sigh, climbing inside and suddenly grateful that I took the time to apply fresh deodorant earlier.
The air is still torturously stuffy with the tent all zipped up.
Jack sits with his legs bent in front of him, hands hooked in front of his knees, looking like a hunched-over giant in my one-person tent.
His eyes roam over every item that emerges from Marigold, but he remains silent, letting his gaze do a whole lot of talking.
I can sense his judgment when I pull out an abundance of socks and a satin sleep mask.
He’s like a TSA agent making me unpack my contraband.
Once Marigold is finally empty, I reach my hand in for the artifact.
Jack’s gaze blisters under a lowered brow. “You had this just stuffed under all your things?”
“Well, excuse me for not knowing Marigold had the equivalent of a Birkin bag stuffed in her tush. This is giving K-drama energy, and I’ll have you know, the male lead is supposed to have softened up a little at this point.”
“We’re still talking about the same thing, right? I didn’t black out while you started yapping about a new topic?”
“Wait, I know what this is,” I say, pointing at him. “You’re hangry. You chose to brood while I ate, but your lunch bag is still out there. The squirrels are probably having a feast right now.” I fold my arms, squinting with a hard smile.
He purses his lips, jaw jutting to the side.
“Dammit,” he mutters before fumbling his large body past mine to crawl out of the tent.
I hear him cursing at the squirrels and shooing them away before he stomps back inside, bringing his storm cloud along with him.
It takes three tries for him to get the zipper closed, and I clamp my lips together, taking measured breaths to stifle a snort and prevent it from erupting into a very unladylike guffaw.
Jack ignores me, wolfing down a granola bar and nearly putting me in a catatonic state as I watch his jaw muscles work while he chews. This shouldn’t be attractive, but for whatever reason, it absolutely is.
He finishes, unbothered by my blatant staring, and wipes his hands on his cargo pants.
“Now, are you happy?” he demands.
“Are you?” I retort, still trying not to laugh.
He rolls his eyes and moves to pick up the box again. With almost comical reverence, he opens the lid, lifting the tissue paper to reveal the stone spearhead. His hand immediately covers his mouth, his eyes not wavering from the object.
I wet my lips, leaning in. “What is it? Is it what you thought it was?”
My eyes roam his face, then trace over the artifact, trying to see something in it I might have missed. He tortures me with his silence as his wheels turn.
“I’ll take any kind of response, by the way,” I continue when he doesn’t answer. “What’s going on? How do we feel about the object in question? Are we pleased right now? Sad? Constipated?”
He’s still speechless as he takes the artifact from the box and turns it over in his hands.
The Lord is testing me. Is patience something I also need to learn this trip? This broody man’s lack of answers make me feel like the biggest Gen Z, culture-of-instant brat, and I’m not liking this side of myself.
Jack finally puts me out of my misery, letting out a heavy sigh before speaking. “It’s even more valuable than I thought. To my knowledge, this is the most intact Clovis point ever found in the Grand Canyon. It’s also made from green obsidian, which means it’s incredibly old and obscenely rare.”
“Oh.” I frown, the silence growing while we both draw the obvious conclusions. “That’s good and bad, right?” I continue after a minute. “I mean, yay for science, but this means those people who want it, really, really want it.”
His eyes finally blink up at me, brows drawn together. “Yeah.”
And then he’s carefully closing the box, nestling it into his backpack.
In two seconds, he’s out of the tent and swinging his bag onto his back.
“I need to send a message from my ranger phone. I can’t make calls on it, but I can text.
I’m not sure who to trust with this, ‘cause there’s a chance someone on the inside is involved.
” He retrieves his hat from the pole, doing that tapping against his thigh thing.
He opens his mouth to speak, then pauses, eyes roving the ground before continuing.
“You should come with me. I don’t wanna leave you alone here, but I need to get to a more reliable spot to make sure my message will go through. ”
“Okay.” I nod, climbing out far less gracefully than he did. “I also need to pee, but I can do that without you watching, right?” I flutter my eyelashes teasingly.
He clenches his jaw. “You should take this more seriously.”
“It’s hard to be serious with someone whose last name I don’t know, Jack Turner.”
He turns, hiking his backpack higher on one shoulder. “Keep guessing, Princess.”
I stifle the moan that wants to squeak out. I guess I’m a sucker for nicknames.