Page 78 of Nothing But Air

“So one of them is lying?”

“That’s what headquarters is trying to determine.” Virgil turned back, expression grim. “The other claimant says part of the Roosevelt inheritance is tied up in whatever treasure is hidden down there. Not just gold. Documents. Letters. A key, maybe. The information isn’t real clear.”

“Marcus never mentioned any of that.” Noah’s hand had found his pocket again. “Why wouldn’t he tell us?”

“Maybe he didn’t think it mattered. Or maybe he knew we wouldn’t let him go if we understood how personally invested he was.”

The implications settled over Meg like cold fog. Marcus was down there with Eden and Teague. With ulterior motives none of them had understood. And they had no way to reach the team.

“The solar storm could explain the radio silence,” she started.

“Or it’s convenient timing.” Noah’s voice had gone flat. Dangerous. “They’re out there with someone who might not be trustworthy, and with the chopper down, we have no way to warn them.”

Virgil held up one hand. “We wait. With both teams out of communication, the storm seems the likely culprit. And you know more than anyone, Noah, that events can cause a delay in communication. I’ve spent a lot of time with Marcus the past few days, and I think he has a good heart.”

Wait? Just…wait?

Teague and Liam were responsible for keeping their teams safe without the full picture.

Meg looked at Noah. Really looked.

The tension had returned full force—etched into every line of his body, the set of his jaw, the white-knuckle grip on his pocket. He was imagining worst-case scenarios. She could practically see them playing out behind his eyes.

“He’s right. It’s the solar storm,” she said firmly. More firmly than she felt. “Has to be. They’ll check in once the interference clears.”

Noah met her eyes. Held them. Something passed between them—gratitude, maybe. Or just the shared weight of hoping she was right.

“That being said”—Virgil removed his glasses and rubbed the bridge of his nose—“I need you to man the radios round the clock in case they do check in.”

Noah nodded and sent her a look. So much for a romantic date anytime soon.

His thumb traced a circle on her palm.

“When this is over,” he said quietly, “we’re having that picnic. Even if I have to kidnap you and knock out any ranger that gets in my way.”

“That’s very romantic. Also possibly assault.”

“Worth it.”

Meg smiled despite the worry settling into her chest like a stone.

She really hoped it was the solar storm.

And not something else.

Nine

Teague had fallen forty feet today. But it wasn’t that fall that scared him.

He knelt beside the brook, working the intake hose of the filtration system into a shallow pool. The water was cold against his fingers. Clear enough to see rust-colored pebbles lining the bottom.

His ribs protested the movement. A dull ache that sharpened when he twisted wrong. The scrapes on his arms stung, and the gouge in his elbow throbbed with each pulse.

But he’d live. He’d taken worse falls.

“Hand me that coupling.” Xander crouched beside him and held out his palm.

Teague passed him the piece, watching as Xander threaded it onto the pump assembly. Late-afternoon sun filtered through the scrub oak, dappling the ground with shifting shadows. They’d found this spot about a quarter mile from the cliff—shade, flat ground for bedrolls, and water access.