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“Tell me one thing. You love him more than you love your sister?” I ask calmly.
She glares at me, hugging her arms closer to her chest. “Libby and I hate each other, we—”
“Bullshit, girl,” I interrupt her as gently as I can. “If you hated her, you wouldn’t be so desperate for me to save her.” While she stares at me, her swollen lip quivering, I continue. “Things happen, Sierra. Bad blood. Scars to the heart. At the end of the day, you’re still sisters. Look at me and Blake. Family love’s real, and it holds—and real love would never hurt you like Declan.”
Reaching out, I lightly touch her arm, just below the creeping bruises.
They look just like fingertips.
She flinches and won’t meet my eyes.
“That’s not love, Sierra.” I let my hand drop away. “He’s using you. And you’re so used to being used that you mistake it for love.”
“No!” She closes her eyes tightly, pressing her lips together. “That’s…that’s cruel of you to say.”
“I don’t want to hurt you,” I say. “I get it, he’s all you think you have. But if you help me save Libby, then you’ve got her for life.”
Sierra doesn’t say anything else, her shoulders hunching.
Then she curses softly under her breath, thrusts her hand into her pocket, draws out her phone and shoves it at me.
“Six nine one seven,” she chokes out, her voice breaking. “The unlock code. Declan’s in the contacts under Hot Stuff.”
“Thank you,” I say with everything in me, giving her shoulder another squeeze as I stand, swiping her phone and unlocking it.
I don’t know what I’ll say.
I’ve got a few ideas.
Pacing the office to keep myself calm, Sierra’s head turns to follow me. I tap the speed dial and then wait, listening to the ring.
If he doesn’t pick up, I don’t know what I’ll do.
It’ll likely get me arrested, and I won’t feel the least bit sorry.
Just as long as Libby’s safe.
On the third ring, the bastard picks up.
Gone is that slick, silky-talking menace, replaced with the growling, snappy prick he truly is.
“For fuck’s sake, girl, where the hell did you run off to—”
“Is that any way to speak to a lady?” I snarl.
I can’t believe I get that out in a mild, sardonic tone.
The sound of his voice alone makes me livid.
Declan goes dead quiet, though in the background I can hear noise—men shouting, things clattering. Sounds almost like a construction site.
“Holt Silverton.”
Ah, there’s that sneering, slick-talking tone again.
“Who else?” I work my jaw. “Listen, I don’t feel like fencing with you, Eckhard. I know you aren’t with the bank. I know you aren’t what you say you are. I know what you want, and I’ll bet you know exactly what I want, too.”
“Do I now?” he asks slowly, feigning ignorance. “Oh—that’s right. You’re a bit sweet on the brattier Miss Potter, aren’t you?”
“That’s one way of putting it.”
And that’s one way of confirming he’s still got Libby.
Shit.
“So you’re looking for the Ursa treasure?” I ask. “Because you can dig that whole town up and you won’t find squat. Those old bandits were too smart to just leave their whole cache in town. They left clues, though. Clues I’ve already found. Without me, you’ll never figure out where the stash is.”
“What is it? Silver? Gold?” Declan sneers. “Why should I believe you?”
“Because I know damn well you’ve been digging all night, and you’ve got nothing but broken glass and old pickaxe heads.” I pause for effect, then add, “And you don’t even know what you’re looking for. I just told you. Silver, Declan. Enough unrefined silver ore that you could get yourself out of a hell of a lot of trouble and live pretty high on the hog once you’re done.”
Silence again.
“Name your terms,” he growls back finally.
“Libby,” I say. “Safe and unharmed. That’s why you took her, isn’t it? Information? Tell me where to meet you. I’ll show you where to find the cache, and you let us walk. Nobody has to get hurt.”
He makes a scoffing sound. “How do I know you won’t just double-cross me and try to take the silver for yourself? I know that little bitch needs it bad to pay off the bank.”
Because there’s no damn silver, I think to myself.
All I say is, “Some shit matters more than money. Libby’s life, for one.”
“How sentimental.”
“Guess I am. It says an awful lot that you haven’t once asked why I’m calling you on Sierra’s phone, or if she’s even safe.”
A dark, ugly edge slips into Declan’s voice. “I don’t have to ask. I know that little whore turned tail and ran to you. She’s got no fucking spine at all.”
As if he does.
As if any man with a spine would hit a woman, much less resort to his dirty, underhanded tricks.
That’s okay.
I’ll find a way to make him pay.
