His to Take (Wicked Lovers #9)(118)
Author: Shayla Black

They hung up, and Joaquin began following the driving directions to the campground Hunter had texted from his phone. The roads turned twisty and windy, the scenery absolutely stunning. He’d never been to this part of the country, but he wouldn’t mind exploring here more. Fall was probably a gorgeous time of year to come.

Within a few minutes, they reached the old campground. It had been converted into a bar and restaurant, but the place looked empty now. He glanced at his phone: 3:38. As he curled an arm around Bailey’s tiny waist and led her to the door, he saw that the sign posted said they didn’t open until five.

He looked around the parking lot, down the landscaped perimeter, all the way to the lakefront. “Anything look familiar?”

“I see a fence. And a dock.” She bit her lip, looking tense, worried. “I don’t know. If this is the right place, things have changed a lot. This parking lot wasn’t here. It was just a dirt area. The big tree I remember doesn’t seem that big, after all.”

“Remember, you were smaller, so your vantage point would have been here.” He crouched down. “And since it was fall, the tree would have been full of leaves, not just a bunch of spindly branches.”

“True,” she conceded, easing down to his level and staring up at the treetops. “Is it hickory?”

“I’m not an arborist. It’s possible.”

She sighed. “It’s also possible this is a wild-goose chase.”

“Yeah. But in case it’s the real deal, we’ve got to press forward.”

Bailey rose and meandered to the fence, stroking her fingers along the top of the pickets, now stained a dark cedar color. Joaquin headed for an old, beat-up sign near the shore that read No Lifeguard on Duty.

She looked his way, and her eyes lit up. “I remember that sign.” She glanced between it and the fence again. “It was about that far apart, too. If this fence was still green . . . it would look awfully similar.”

“There’s a path to follow.” He pointed.

“It’s concrete now, but if I come to this support post and jump three times to my left . . .” She demonstrated—and wound up precisely in the middle of the path.

And everything seemed to fit into place. A wave of dizziness overcame her.

Joaquin reached out to steady Bailey. “Whoa. You okay?”

“I remember now—and I think we’re in the right place. In my head, I see Viktor talking me through this little dance before he headed back to a tiny lump of dirt he’d just made at the base of the tree.”

“Are you sure? Because that’s exactly the kind of recollection we need.”

“Mentally removing the trappings of everything that’s changed, I’m thinking we might actually find whatever he buried somewhere around the trunk of the tree. Did we bring a shovel?”

Well, shit. “I wasn’t exactly prepared to dig.” He took a mental inventory of the items in his car. “I’ve got an idea. It’s not perfect, but it might do the trick.”

He jogged back to the car, disappearing behind some foliage for a bit. He hated to leave Bailey for even a moment, but he couldn’t see a soul in sight, just lots of nature’s wonder.

A green compact that had seen better days speeded into the lot, swinging around a corner and almost tilting over on two wheels. Joaquin tensed as he saw the female driver heading single-mindedly to the lot behind the building, closer to Bailey’s position.

A moment later, a harried brunette bolted from her car, carrying an apron and juggling her keys as she locked her vehicle and ran for the back door of the restaurant. The woman let herself into the place, then locked the door behind her with an audible click. With the restaurant opening in just over an hour, it stood to reason that someone had to start cooking or getting the tables set.

Joaquin breathed a sigh of relief, then retrieved the necessary item from the back of his SUV. Then he noticed something that made his blood run cold—the red truck they’d spotted on the highway just after their last stop. Jogging over, he took a quick glance inside. It appeared empty.

After making a mental note of the license plate, he dashed back to Bailey, implement in hand. He was damn glad it would double as a weapon. It would make a nice backup for the SIG shoved into his waistband at the small of his back.

He told her about the truck parked on the other side of the building.

Worry wrinkled her brow. “You think it’s the same red truck we saw?”

“Looks like it. But then again, it might be another employee or the owner. Let’s stay focused on our task, but we’ll definitely keep our eyes open, too.”