Jackson (15 page)

Her foot skidded out from beneath her, sliding on gravel. She caught herself before she could completely fall, but the stumble was enough to allow the man to gain on her. Two steps later, he was able to grab her, and her feet slipped out from under her again as his fingers curled into her arm and he yanked her back.

She yelped as her knees hit the ground. But her desperation to get away overrode the pain. She kicked at his leg, and he yowled and fell to the ground next to her. Her next kick hit him in the gut, but this time he was ready—he grabbed her ankle as she tried to crawl away from him.

“Give it to me, you little bitch!” he said, lunging forward and trying to grab the bottle.

She swung her arm out of his reach and spit in his face.

That only angered him. He yanked on her ankle—
hard
—and swung at her face. She was only just able to twist out of the way, and his fist slammed into the ground next to her head.

For a moment, she was stunned. No one had ever tried to hit her—truly hit her—and she knew that if his punch had landed, her nose would be in pieces right now. But even as that knowledge sank in, a gunshot rang through the woods—back from where she’d left Jackson and the other man.

Jackson.

Instantly, survival mode took over. There was no more thinking. Just instinct. Just desperation.

The man was mostly on top of her now, still scrabbling for the bottle. She brought up her leg and kneed him right where it mattered most.

He screeched and fell back, his hands cupping his injured manhood as he tried to curl into the fetal position. She didn’t waste the opportunity. She leaped to her feet and took off running again—or at least she tried. In a last-second attempt to stall her, he tried to grab her leg. His fingers dug into her calf, and though he didn’t manage to get a grip, the contact was enough to throw her off balance. She stumbled and fell forward.

Right over the edge of the cliff.

CHAPTER EIGHT

When he saw Charlie go over the cliff, Jackson’s vision went red.

He’d come upon them just in time to see the fucker try to grab Charlie’s leg. Just in time to see her stumble and fall. And in that second, his entire world had exploded.

In no time at all, he was on top of the bastard. Beating him. Trying to tear his head off.

But this man was bigger than his companion—who currently lay unconscious back on the trail. This man met Jackson punch for punch. Kick for kick. For every strike Jackson landed, he received one in return. And all the while in his head he kept seeing Charlie go over the cliff. Charlie, who was only here because of him. Charlie, who had somehow become his entire world.

Charlie…

His opponent got him in the ribs, knocking the breath right from his chest. He didn’t have time to recover, and the next swing swept him onto his back.

He hooked his leg around the larger man’s knee and pulled him down to the ground. He had to finish this guy. Had to get over the cliff and find Charlie.
Even if it’s the last thing I do…

Suddenly, a
CRACK
sounded above him, and his opponent went rigid on top of him. For a long second, the man didn’t move at all, and then his eyes rolled back in his head and he fell forward.

Jackson only just managed to get out of the way of the guy’s skull. He scrambled to his feet as the large man landed in an unconscious heap on the ground.

Charlie stood over them, chest heaving, a bottle in her hand—well, the remains of a bottle, anyway. The rest of it was in pieces on the ground. Apparently her makeshift weapon had broken when it hit its mark.

Instantly, he was beside her. He gave his opponent a small kick—just to make absolutely certain he was unconscious—and then he grabbed Charlie and crushed her against his chest. His hands roamed over her body and his lips went to her hair. She was here. In one piece. Apparently unharmed. Her arms went around him, too, and he could feel her shaking.

Thank God
, he thought, tangling his fingers in her hair. Kissing her ear, her temple, her eyelids.
Thank God she’s safe.

That was what he’d wanted all along—to keep her safe. To protect her from the dangerous parts of this life. If something ever happened to her, he didn’t know what he’d do.

His hands slid up her arms. There were scrapes and cuts all over her skin, and purple bruises were already beginning to form. Even though the injuries were far from life-threatening, every single one made the rage boil inside of him—rage at these men for harming her. Rage at himself for letting it happen.

Charlie’s hands moved up his back, searching his body as his hands searched hers. He wanted to go over her inch by inch, to take stock of every little wound for which he was responsible. And then take her back to the guest house and peel off all of her clothes and try to erase those injuries with his mouth and his touch.

He caught her face between his hands and tilted her head back. He had so much he wanted to say to her, but he couldn’t seem to find the words. Instead, his lips fell on hers, attacking her hungrily, letting her taste all of the things he didn’t know how to say. He couldn’t get enough of her. Never wanted her out of his sight, not even for a second.

She returned his kiss with equal passion, gripping him tightly and moaning softly against his mouth. She didn’t have to say anything. He could feel her fear and her relief and her joy and her desire through every place where their bodies met. It further stirred the need inside of him, and he found himself pushing her back toward the nearest tree, wanting her here and now in spite of the impracticalities.

It was Charlie who finally broke away, and though he didn’t try to kiss her again, he kept her in his arms. His hands returned to her face, his thumbs sweeping in a gentle arc across her cheeks. Her face was smudged with dirt, but her eyes shone.

“I thought you’d gone over the cliff,” he murmured, his gaze locked on hers.

“I did.” Her voice was a croak. “But I didn’t go very far. It’s not as steep as it looks from here. A bush broke my fall, and I was able to climb back up.”

“And then take out this guy for me.” He couldn’t keep a smile from creeping over his lips. But the horror of the previous moments still haunted him. “Fuck, Charlie. If I’d lost you…”

“I know.” She laid her cheek against his chest.

For a long while, they just stood there with their arms around each other. What was he going to do? He refused to put her in a situation like this again. But the thought of letting her go back to Atlanta was equally repulsive. There was no good answer. Short of him leaving the Set, he could think of no solution that both kept her safe and kept them together.

Finally, Charlie pulled back again.

“I found something,” she said, slipping out of his arms. She bent over, picking through the bits of broken glass around their feet. Among the remains of the bottle were a number of rolled up bits of paper, each tied with a string.

“What are these?” he asked.

“I found this bottle in a tree with a star carved on the trunk,” she said. “I think this might have been what Vincent left.”

He’d forgotten all about their reason for coming out here in the first place. “Are you serious?”

Her face erupted in a smile that nearly blinded him. “Dead serious. Now help me make sure I don’t miss anything.”

Over the next few minutes, he helped her gather up the rolled up bundles of paper that had scattered around the unconscious man’s body. There were ten bundles—nine that looked like tiny little scrolls tied up with string, all roughly the same size, and one that was larger and misshapen.

He held the large one out to her. “Want to do the honors?”

She took the bundle out of his hand and turned it over on her palm. Her lips pursed as she studied it from every angle. Finally, she tugged at the string. The knot came apart easily, and the paper curled back.

Inside was a pile of diamonds.

“Oh my God,” Charlie breathed.

Jackson let out a whistle. But as Charlie shifted her hand, he realized they weren’t just looking at a horde of precious stones.

“It’s a necklace,” he said. He reached out and grabbed the chain peeking out from beneath the sparkling gems. As he lifted it, the links and clusters of diamonds fell into place, revealing the most elaborate piece of jewelry he’d ever seen.

“This has to be fake,” said Charlie, her gray eyes wide.

He shook his head. “I don’t think it is.”

He wasn’t the expert on these things, but this necklace had to be worth hundreds of thousands of dollars—possibly so much more.

“Look, there’s a note,” said Charlie. She unfolded the bit of paper further. “It says, ‘
Dearest Alyssa—I always told you that one day I’d capture the stars for you. As my final gift to you, I’ve made good on that promise. This is but a piece of my treasure, but I’ve left you clues for all the rest. Remember that I’ll always love you. The greatest adventure of my life was loving you.
’ ”

Jackson grabbed one of the rolled up bits of paper and tore off the string. Inside, he once again found Rinaldi’s scrawl—and another rhyming verse that made him cringe.

“It’s another riddle,” he said.

“There are nine of them,” Charlotte said. “Does that mean there are nine more places to find?”

“Possibly.”

Together, they tore open the rest of the tiny scrolls. They all contained more riddles, and a couple even had small sketches. This necklace was only the beginning. From the looks of things, Rinaldi’s game was just getting started.

This was ridiculous.
Beyond
ridiculous. But Rinaldi hadn’t done anything in his life halfway—why should they have expected anything different with the hunt for his fortune? And if this necklace was any indication of what they might find in elsewhere with the help of these clues, then the reward would be worth every bit of trouble—and well beyond what any of them had anticipated.

But as much as this discovery excited him, nothing could compare to the look on Charlie’s face right now. She practically glowed, and her eyes were even brighter than the diamonds that glittered in his hand between them.

“We did it,” she said, her lips curling up into the most beautiful smile he’d ever seen. “We’ve found Vincent’s treasure.”

“Part of it, anyway,” he said, stepping close to her again. Her expression mirrored everything he’d ever felt about expeditions like this. Once again, he felt like she was coming alive in front of him, becoming herself in her truest, most beautiful sense.

He’d told himself over and over again that she shouldn’t be a part of this. But as he looked at her now, he wondered how true that really was. The girl in front of him didn’t belong in some dull insurance company job back in Atlanta. She belonged here. Doing this. With him.

“What do we do now?” she asked.

He knew what he should say—that it was time for her to go home. Time to have a very serious talk about what they were doing and how they saw themselves making this work. But fuck doing the responsible thing. There was only one answer to her question.

He dipped his face down toward hers, his lips curling into a smile. “Go find the rest, of course.”

* * *

Charlotte understood now.

It wasn’t that she
hadn’t
understood before, but now it felt like the whole world had opened up in front of her. She felt wild. High. She’d never experienced a rush like this before.

She and Jackson were on the ferry back to Split to meet up with the rest of the Set. They’d had no choice but to leave their unconscious opponents among the olive trees, but Jackson had phoned in an anonymous tip about the location to the local police force. It would buy them some time, at least. Meanwhile, the necklace and Vincent’s accompanying set of riddles were stowed safely in her bag, and though she longed to pull them out and study them, she knew she shouldn’t. Not here, anyway. So she stood next to Jackson at the ferry’s rail and looked out over the water. The sun beat down on her skin and spray splashed up in her face, and though part of her wanted to stand here in this beauty forever, another part of her couldn’t keep still.

She couldn’t stop touching Jackson, either. And he couldn’t stop touching her. Her arm was around his waist, and his hand was everywhere—at her lower back, then drifting up her spine, then playing with her hair, then stroking the side of her neck. She’d always responded strongly to him, but this was different—her whole body was abuzz, and his seemed to be as well. They were two vibrating energies, drawn closer to each other with every breath.

“Is it always like this?” she asked. “After you find something, I mean?”

He turned his face so that his lips brushed against her hair. “Like what?”

“You know, like…” How did she put this into words? “I feel drunk. And like I could conquer anything. My body feels like it’s… Like I’m…”

He laughed, and it was a low, deep sound that shivered right through her. “That’s the adrenaline. Nothing like it, huh?” He kissed her temple.

His kiss set off a fresh rush of sensation, and she couldn’t get close enough to him. She turned her face up to his, catching his lips with hers. He returned the attention enthusiastically, then smiled against her mouth.