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He reached out and cupped his fingers under hers, lifting her battered knuckles to study them in the light. His features darkened. She nibbled on her bottom lip, expecting a rebuke. Instead, he flipped up his gaze and offered her a proud smile. “You blackened both his eyes. Good job.” After lightly tracing the pad of his thumb over her knuckles, he released her.
She bit back a whimper. “Is that better or worse than breaking his nose in the eyes of the law?”
“You did both. A broken nose caused the black eyes. And they are equal.”
Well. You learn something new every day. “My first time throwing a punch, and I hit the bull’s eye.”
“If someone ever grabs you again, go for their throat and run away screaming,” Beau said with a nod. “You will run away screaming, won’t you, Jane?”
“As fast as your feet can carry you,” Conrad added after sipping his tea. “Scream fire if you must.”
The food in her stomach turned to lead. “You guys expect more trouble, don’t you?”
Conrad set down his fork to rub the back of his neck. “I have an agent monitoring the Headliner, and as of this afternoon eleven subjects have mentioned the possibility of finding gold in your cemetery. Those eleven will tell others. Those people will spread the word further. At some point, someone will sneak onto your property to find out the truth.”
“Whatever day it is, whatever time, I want you to call me at even the hint of a trespasser.” Beau’s green eyes were fierce. “I mean it.”
Jane nodded, her thoughts whirling. Was there or wasn’t there gold in her cemetery?
They finished the meal, and both men offered to clean up. Though she refused—Grandma Lily never allowed guests in the kitchen—they helped her, anyway.
“Beau has a lot to do, and I have a lot to teach you,” Conrad said when the last dish was put away. “We should get started.”
As Beau installed the alarms throughout the house, the agent trained Jane by porch light in the backyard. A wide space with lush grass and graceful willows. Lighting bugs flashed, the scent of magnolia heavier than usual. Stars glittered like diamonds scattered over black velvet. A sultry evening with a powerful man.
He was a hands-on trainer, a bit barky, and he showed no mercy, but she loved every minute. He taught her how to fight as dirty and nasty as possible. Best move by far? The Testicle Relocator.
He kept things all business, and his serious demeanor never wavered. Until she did an impression of him, and he laughed outright. The rusty sound broke and delighted her heart in unison.
“You’re a natural,” he told her, the praise going straight to her head.
Beau finished soon after and took off. Conrad lingered a bit longer. He dusted his knuckles along her jawline before heading to his car with a wink and a smile. “Try not to miss me too much.”
Impossible. “Don’t die on your way home,” she called with a wave, and he laughed outright.
Jane was still smiling as she prepared for bed. What a wonderful night.
As she laid her head upon her pillow, the image she’d found so familiar resurfaced in her mind, and she gasped, jolting upright. Finally! She knew what had niggled at her about the fleur-de-lys. Add a circle to the bottom and a circle with a dot in the center and boom, you had the symbol for the (alleged) Order of Seven. A long-ago gold-worshipping secret society. The same symbol her ancestors had carved in the gold-bearing coffins. The very symbol marked in one of the journals on display at the museum.
There it was. The connection. But was it a decoy or the real deal? Would she find gold in some of her coffins? In any of the other marked caskets?
After the graves were looted, her ancestors logged details describing every detail about every plot and coffin. Jane knew some of their old notes mentioned the Order of Seven symbol.
She scrambled out of bed, one thought rolling into another. She’d seen the pattern on the unearthed casket as well as a photo at the museum. The same photo Abigail had studied—the grave of Silas Ladling.
I’m on to something. I know it! Jane needed a partner, and there was only one person she trusted to do the job and not arrest her.
She snatched up her cell phone and teed up his number.
He answered on the first ring, tension icing his voice. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. You wanna dig up a grave?”
Chapter Eleven
Adam Daniels
In The Hole On This Deal.
Plot 681, Garden of Memories
“Why are we doing this again?” Beau shoveled a mound of dirt from inside a pit.
Jane had hung paper lanterns throughout the area, golden light keeping her companion illuminated.
Midnight had come and gone, insects serenading them with a gentle song as a magnolia scented breeze brushed warm air over her exposed skin. “Because we can.” Jane perched atop a headstone, the perfect spot to see inside the pit. She wore a tank top, jeans and her sturdiest work boots. “Why did you agree?”
