Page 60 of These Reckless Hearts

Nothing could have braced me for what the note said. They are words I need to sit down with, to repeat in my head a hundred times, dissecting every last meaning and punctuation to make sense out of it. In a way, words from my father might have been the only ones I would’ve trusted regarding the treasure. His letter says both everything and nothing at the same time. He doesn’t apologize for what he did; he accepts it. He doesn’t even apologize for my childhood, but that’s quintessentially Clark Wilder. I wouldn’t have expected him to change despite the trouble he was facing. And in the end, it was always about the Wilder legacy.

Lance leans forward and snaps his fingers in front of my face. I focus on him, tears welling in my eyes. He’s broken me from my daydream, and I long to go back. I want to be surrounded by my father again. “Sounds like Clark had a lot more secrets than I ever expected.” He shakes his head again as if he has more admiration for him now that he’s unraveled some of my father’s mysteries. “I never saw that coming either. I believed him to be a crazy old man who neither had the intelligence nor the means to find the treasure.”

“My father was a far smarter man than you.”

Lance laughs, the sound echoing off the bare walls. I’ve been ripped from the confines of my mind and placed firmly back in this rickety kitchen chair with the problem still in front of me. My father mentioned the map in the note. After he died, he figured I would dig up the canister, and he was right. It would be my turn to keep it safe how I saw fit, but what he didn’t know was that I would dig it up for a completely different reason. He didn’t foresee Lance Jacobs, and he certainly didn’t foresee Stone, Wyatt, and Lucas as anything more than pesky searchers—a gnat to swat at when the annoyances became too much.

He didn’t know they would change my life.

Lance crumples the note in his hands and throws it carelessly to the ground. I leap from my chair like it’s a valuable artifact, my body protesting, but I end up retrieving it. Smoothing it out, I fold it back up, slipping it in my pocket where the stolen knife waits for me.

I don’t know where Lance’s security detail went. They’re probably right outside and would come running in if they heard us fighting, but I also wonder if his protection is part of the deal? He might have just hired them to follow us, and they wouldn’t care if I slid a knife into his beating heart.

I bite my lip and take my seat on the chair again. It’s an enticing idea to end this right now, but I don’t know if I need a repeat of killing Stone’s father. Stone could barely look at me after the first time.

“You need to stop lying,” Lance demands. “I know there’s a map. I want to know where it is.”

My heart beats in my chest like rapid gunfire. I’ve been taught to safeguard the map as much as I would watch out for my own life. Now that it’s out in the open with someone I don’t trust, I don’t know what to do. I swallow. “There was a map.”

As soon as the words leave my mouth, an eerie calmness takes over. “The thing is, your team of psychos literally flushed me and my entire camp out of the Superstitions. I don’t know where the map is now. Most likely ruined, thanks to yourself.” Lance’s eye twitches, so I keep going. “You don’t think there’s mud caked in my hair for no reason, do you? Your team literally flooded us out. The last time I saw your son, he wasn’t breathing. He was pale, his lips and eyelids a soft blue, the color of a corpse. With everything that was happening, I didn’t see where the map went. I was too preoccupied worrying about Stone’s life, something you should be doing. So, congratulations, you’re an asshole and you ruined the only map to the Wilder treasure.”

Lance leaps forward and tackles me to the ground, the chair digging into my spine as my body erupts in pain again. The back of my head bounces against the tile and stars dot my vision before Lance’s forearm closes over my neck. “You better hope you made a copy!”

I claw at his arm, but his suit coat is in the way and my fingers keep slipping. He places more pressure on my throat until he completely cuts off my air. I choke and thrash about, panic seizing me as my lungs start to burn again. He lets up, and I suck in a breath. Leveling my eyes at him, I growl, “There is no copy.”

Lance roars in my face, spittle dotting my cheeks. I rumble back at him, dismissing the sting in my throat.

“And you say your father was smarter than me.”

“More copies means it would’ve been easier for the information to get out.” I swallow back the tightness and keep going. “You’ve been searching for the treasure for how many years and just now found out that there was a map? Yes, I’d say my father was smarter than you.”

“Then you’re ignorant.” He pushes off my neck and stands. I drag in a few laborious breaths as he paces and runs his hands through his thick head of hair that’s always rung fake to me. Even at his age, he doesn’t have any grays—no doubt a dye job.

“Either way, the map is gone because of you.”

“Then I guess I need you alive for a little longer, huh?”

My stomach drops. Queasiness overtakes me at his implication. I’m now only alive because I know what the map looks like, have burned it into my mind. That’s why we never took copies. My father and I both studied it in every possible way. We could’ve gotten rid of it ages ago, but it was a piece of history. A piece of my family’s legacy that we wanted to come out at some point—displayed under glass, gawked at by strangers, dissected by experts.

I may have it memorized, but it’s not the same.

I right my chair and sit back in it. My midsection protests, but I ignore the pain and pull my shoulders back. “We’re in quite the predicament here, aren’t we?”

“You Wilders have always been a pain in my ass!” He’s screaming by the end of his proclamation.

“The feeling is mutual, Jacobs.” I shake my head. “The fact that any of them ever looked up to you boggles my mind. You’re pathetic. You’re unethical. And I’m not sure you care about anyone but yourself.”

The corner of Lance’s mouth turns up. “You don’t want to talk to me about those boys. You think you know them, but you don’t.”

“They’re notyourboys,” I seethe.

“Lucas only wanted someone to pay attention to him. He was the most easily manipulated, if I set Stone aside for a minute. Lucas was so desperate for a family, it was almost laughable. Wyatt was a harder nut to crack. The loss of his father shook him, and all it took was a little help with lawyers and advice and he would’ve done anything for me, too.”

“You built yourself a nice little entourage.” I swallow the bile rising to the surface. He knew what he was doing to them all along, exploiting their loyalty. I wonder how long it took them to realize Lance Jacobs was a piece of scum using them to do his dirty work? Unmarked hands aren’t a sign of strength and wisdom. You have to get on the ground and do it yourself to grow.

Once they figured out who he really was, there was no chance in getting them back.

“Too bad you hurt them, too,” I snap, the knot in my gut twisting more since I don’t even know what happened to them. I thought I heard a faint call as we were leaving, but that could’ve been wishful thinking—an echo taunting me. “If you hurt me, you’ll never get them back.”

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