Page 88 of Nothing But Air

“At Marcus.”

“That’s what I said.”

“You thought I was staring at you.”

“Were you?”

“Earlier. Definitely earlier.” He kept his voice light. “Hard not to, after last night.”

Color touched her cheeks. “We’re not talking about last night.”

“We’re definitely talking about last night. Maybe not right now, with witnesses. But soon.”

“Focus, Hamilton.”

“I am focused. I can multitask.” He nodded toward Marcus. “What do you think his deal is?”

Eden’s expression sobered. “I don’t know. But he’s getting worse. Yesterday he was nervous. Today he’s…”

“Desperate.”

“Yeah.” She met his eyes. “You finally see it.”

“I should have listened to you from the start.”

“Yes, you should have.” But the corner of her mouth curved. “Though I have to admit, I’m enjoying this new version of Teague Hamilton who admits when he’s wrong.”

“Don’t get used to it.”

“Too late.”

They arrived at their destination—another cliff face, another cave entrance about a hundred and fifty feet up. This one looked more promising than yesterday’s shallow depression. Maybe fifteen to twenty feet deep. Just enough protection to hide two million dollars in Roosevelt gold for several decades without it being found.

Teague pulled Xander aside while the team organized gear. “I need you to help me watch Marcus.”

“He’s acting odd, all right. Worse today.” Xander’s eyes flicked toward Marcus, then back. “What’s the plan?”

“I’ll stay between Marcus and Eden on the wall. You bring up the rear, keep him in sight. If he does anything suspicious, we abort and get everyone down.”

“You think he’d actually do something dangerous?”

“I think desperate people make bad calls.” Teague watched Marcus stare up at the cave with unnerving intensity. “And I’m not taking chances.”

Xander nodded. “Got it.”

Teague found Eden sorting through the rope, checking for damage with methodical attention.

“How are you feeling?” He kept his voice low. “And I want an honest answer, not the ‘I’m fine’ version.”

She glanced up, and that new warmth flickered in her eyes. “Good. Actually good. Not ‘I’m pretending to be fine’ good.”

“Just good?” He moved closer. “I was hoping for ‘great.’ Maybe ‘fantastic.’ Possibly ‘best I’ve felt in years thanks to a certain ruggedly handsome team leader.’”

“Your ego is exhausting.”

“And yet you kissed me anyway.”

“Temporary insanity.” But she was fighting a smile. “You want me to lead this one?”