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“Put your hands down,” Sam bellowed from his spot by the window.
“But the light—”
“Put them down!”
The man pulled a pair of night-vision goggles from his face, taking more than a few strands of greasy, shoulder-length gray hair with it. Red suction marks circled his twitching eyes. A ten o'clock shadow darkened a familiar jawline. He caught sight of her in the doorway and broke into a crooked smile that made her heart stutter. Curiosity besting her sense of self-preservation, she stepped closer to him. His eyes didn't have the same gold flecks, but they were the same hazel color as Sam's.
“What in the hell are you doing here, Uncle Harlan?” Sam stood arms akimbo, naked as the day he was born.
Josie's blood started pumping again, but for a whole other reason than fear. She jabbed her short nails into the palms of her hands. This was not the time to get distracted by Sam's tight ass or strong thighs or his…damn, she was a lost cause.
“Does Mom know you're here?”
“No. No one knows I'm at your house.”
“Not at my house, here in Dry Creek.”
Uncle Harlan cleared his throat. “Um, no. And I'd like to keep it that way. Your mother doesn't like me very well.”
“Doesn't like you? You're lucky she didn't fill your skinny behind with buckshot after you stole Rebecca's diary and then lost it in a poker game. The only reason you still get invited to Thanksgiving dinner is because of her promise to Granny Marie. If it was up to mom, she'd bury you hip high in an ant hill.”
“That sounds about right.” He rearranged himself so he sat with his back straight, the soles of his feet together and interlaced his fingers around his bare feet. All in all, he looked pretty Zen for a guy who'd just gotten caught in the middle of a B and E. “Why don't we meditate on this latest development.”
“Are you completely nuts? You just broke into my house.” Sam grabbed a small, grimy duffle bag, the contents of which clanged together. “With burglary tools and, what, night-vision goggles?”
Sam's disapproving tone had no impact on Uncle Harlan, who sat straighter. “A concession I had to make to age. I can't lurk around in the dark as I used too, my eyes won't let me. Getting old is hell on the body, but the yoga helps. You should start now, Sam. It does wonders.”
“But you had the lights on.”
“True, but it's not like I could turn the rest of the lights on in the house.”
Sam stomped over to his uncle and loomed over him. “You're after the map, aren't you?”
Uncle Harlan grimaced and waved a hand at the swinging parts of Sam's anatomy only inches from the older man’s face. “I don't mind your nudity; however, can you take a few paces back?”
Throwing up his hands in annoyance, Sam roared, “You break into my house in the middle of the night and then complain that I'm naked?”
Peering around Sam's legs, Uncle Harlan wriggled his snowy eyebrows at Josie. “I'm sure you had your reasons. Very good reasons.”
“Leave her out of this.”
Uncle Harlan grinned his crooked smile and doffed an imaginary hat at Josie. “Sorry to interrupt.”
Despite the fact that she should be annoyed at him, she couldn't help but warm up to the bedraggled black sheep of the Layton clan. “Maybe you should go get some pants on; I'll keep an eye on the prisoner.”
The old man's eyes twinkled at her jaunty salute to Sam.
Sam rolled his eyes and stomped out of the room, grumbling something about old fools and idiotic treasure hunters.
“So you're after Rebecca's Bounty?”
“For fifty years now.”
Fifty years of searching and no treasure? Josie's gut sank as her visions of an easy find faded away. Snips was not the patient sort. He'd send his goon after her—or worse, after her parents—if she didn't find it.
So she'd find it, that's all there was to it.
“Of course, up until this week, I hadn't heard there was a map. Now that changes everything.” He nodded and reached out a skinny arm toward her. When she obliged, his bones popped and cracked as she helped him into a standing position. He placed both hands on the small of his back and completed a shallow backbend, setting off a cacophony of pops as his bones set to right.
