Trouble & Treasure - Dave Moyer (reading rainbow books .TXT) 📗

eyebrow arching up. “I reckon I can figure out why you are all flushed, miss,” the man laughed, “You know, it used to be the same in my day; this old place was where all the lovers went to get away from prying eyes.”

I blinked, confused. That would be when Sebastian leaned in, looped an arm around my middle and yanked me over to him. He didn't bother answering the man, he just offered him a half grin.

The man laughed heartily. “Well, sorry to have disturbed you two.”

Before I could clarify the situation, and point out that I hadn’t, and never would be, caught in a compromising situation with Sebastian Shaw, Sebastian began to pull me down the steps.

“Well, you two enjoy the rest of your day, but not too much.” The man chuckled as he waved us goodbye.

Sebastian had a firm hold of my waist as he tugged me towards the car.

“Get off me,” I said as I wriggled free, huffing heavily, hair messy against his shoulder.

“Suit yourself,” he let go of me, walking easily towards the driver-side door, “Hurry up and get in the car.”

As I did, I heard a shout from the church. Obviously the kind old gentleman had realized how much vandalism we’d gotten up to. I patted my hands wildly in front of my face. “Drive, drive.” I snapped at Sebastian as I saw the form of the previously kind old gentleman running out of the door and towards us.

Sebastian hardly had to be encouraged, and brought the car around in a screeching turn and bombed down the drive. Chapter Eleven

Amanda Stanton

After we made it onto the main road, Sebastian driving too fast, I turned in my seat to face him. “You know, if we’d found something that weighed as much a stone, you wouldn't have had to destroy those scales.”

“Well excuse me if we didn't have time to sit around and try and find a fucking stone of weight. Have you forgotten, Amanda, that you have half of the world breathing down your neck, trying to kill you?”

“You keep on saying that, but I think you mean we,” I pointed out, swallowing the tide of fright that lapped up at my belly.

“True, but I can look after myself. If I stopped looking after you, however, that would be your part in this game done,” he leaned in but kept driving, only one hand on the steering wheel, and took his eyes off the road to look over at me, “Do you need me to paint you a picture of what that would look like?”

Despite the fact he was driving I balled up a fist and hit him on the shoulder. It wasn’t hard, but it wasn’t that girlie either, and he leaned back and rubbed a hand on it.

“What did the parchment say anyway?” I asked, keen to get the conversation onto something that was important and didn't involve Sebastian's inflated sense of self-importance and competence.

“It was another clue.” He stopped rubbing his shoulder and let his hand rest on his lap. There was something infuriatingly maddening about men who didn’t drive with both hands on the steering wheel.

“What did my great-uncle's clue say?” I straightened in my seat, nervous about what it could be, and a great deal more nervous at the horrible situation I’d found myself in. “Where are we going? Are we going to find a clue? Are we going somewhere safe?” my voice was quick as I fired off each question in turn.

“Why don’t you shut up, sit down straight, and leave the rest of it up to me,” he said, tone as arrogant as his suggestion.

I snorted with derision. “Where did you learn to talk to women like that?”

It was his turn to snort. “Oh, Amanda, don't you worry, I know how to talk to women,” he assured me, playing with the collar of his shirt.

“Are many women won over by your macho man display? Or do you find yourself leaving bars with drinks dripping off your face? Do older women hit you in supermarkets with their bags? Do young girls scream in your face, kick you in the shins, and run off down the street?”

With eyes narrowed, he gave me a sarcastic look. “Believe me, honey, if I wanted to talk nicely to you, I would.”

I ignored the kick of adrenaline that zipped up my stomach at that thought, and more importantly at the charming and yet sarcastic smile that preceded it. I swallowed determinedly. “I doubt that, Sebastian,” I continued, on a roll here, “I think you are the kind of man who thinks you're good with women, because you happen to be attractive, but not because you have any charm or an engaging personality.” My words came out, but they didn't come out right. I’d intended to insult him, and I had meant to point out how irritating and undesirable he was.

Keeping one hand on the steering wheel, he leaned across to me as much as he could, not facing me, but keeping his eyes on the road the entire time. “Amanda, I'll tell you a secret: all it takes is being attractive.” He straightened up, that stupid smile still on his face.

Oh yes, he was arrogant, but oh yes, I happened to be blushing like a burning hot ember.

It wasn't until he joined one of the major roads that I plucked up the courage to speak again. “I'm not sure if you have forgotten this, but the side of this car is riddled with bullet holes,” I pointed to the passenger-side window and the driver's side window, “And both of these windows are smashed. What do you think is going to happen if we pass a police car?”

“I will give them the chase of their life.” He grinned.

“Grow up. Seriously, you're a lawyer, right? Did you get your degree on the Internet? Or is this some game, do you pretend you're a lawyer so you can ingratiate yourself with old ladies and have them make you pancakes and call you dear?”

“I'm a lawyer, and I also know a lot more about what’s going on than you do. So why don’t you shut up?”

I punched him on the shoulder again, this time harder. “Tell me what was on that clue, and you tell me where we are going next, or...” I faltered as I tried to think of a damn good threat.

“Or what, Amanda? Are you going to wrestle it from me?” he said, stupid grin pushing high into his cheeks.

I darted a hand out and snatched the parchment right out of the pocket of his shirt before he could grab my hand. I turned to the window with it, hiding it close by my chest so I could read it before he could snatch it back.

Although he swore at me, he didn’t try to wrest it from my grip.

I managed to read the clue. It was in my great-uncle's familiar cursive handwriting, and it spoke of shadows and light, more specifically entailing that the whereabouts of the next clue was in a place where the shadow crossed the light.

I sat straight, carefully rolling up the parchment and placing it neatly on my lap. A place where the shadow met the light? Well, that wasn't the most explicit of clues. Not only could it mean anything, I didn't think I had any idea to narrow it down.

“You have no idea, do you?” he sounded amused.

I turned to him and narrowed my eyes. “I'm not sure if you've forgotten, but the only reason we have this clue,” I gestured with it lightly, “Is because I figured out the last one.”

“Right, I knew where it was, without any of your help, Amanda. Or did you forget it was me who found those scales?”

“Yes,” I insisted, “But it was me who figured out the clue. You obviously didn't have any idea there was something in the scales until I figured it out. Plus, seriously, you didn't have to go and hit it with a spade.”

He laughed out loud at that and for far too long. “You have seen way too many movies. Trust me, if you can hit it with a hammer, hit it with a hammer; it's quicker than all that clue bullshit.”

Indiana Jones would have jolly well taken it to a museum, I wanted to point out. But there was no point in comparing Sebastian to Indiana – Sebastian not only didn’t wear leather, foregoing the manly look for a suit, but he didn't have a good bone anywhere in his body, and he sure as hell didn't care about the history behind the items he coveted or destroyed. Excuse me for thinking that possibly it might have been better to follow through with the clue rather than the spade.

“So where are you taking me?” I asked.

“Petrol,” he said.

I glanced over and noticed we were almost at empty. Then I gave him the look he deserved. “You came with an empty tank?”

He sneered at me. “Excuse me if I didn't prepare to cart you around the country, looking for clues and running from goons. Today,” he adjusted his collar, “Was meant to be an ordinary day, not like last night.”

I pressed my lips together stiffly and gave him a stern look. “How are we meant to get petrol? People are going to see our car and they’ll call the police.”

Sebastian didn't answer, and neither did he look pleased. It was clear he was having trouble with that idea too.

I gave a deep sigh, wondering where I would be this time tomorrow. Would I be in prison? Would I be with that man Maratova? Or Romeo? Or would I be... dead? As that horrible thought found its way into my mind, I drew my hands together and began to rub them.

He glanced my way and leaned down to turn on the heater, despite the fact two of the windows were smashed.

I didn't have time to think his gesture was sweet, because it gave me an idea. I recognized the section of road we were driving down, and realized it wasn’t too far from a barely-used side road that connected onto the lane-way near my great-uncle’s manor.

“Your car, why don’t we take that?” I asked excitedly.

Sebastian made a show of looking conspiratorial, darting his eyes from side-to-side and leaning down into his collar. “We are in my car,” he whispered.

I rolled my eyes. “Your other car, the one that you said you'd parked in the lane-way last night, the one I gave you the keys for this morning. If we could get to that, and if that isn't riddled with bullet holes, then we can drive that instead.”

While the beginnings of a sarcastic smile spread his lips, it dwindled. Perhaps he thought it was a good idea, because it was a good idea. We could hardly continue driving around the countryside in a car that looked as if it had driven through a war zone.

“If you continue down this road, there's this side road, it's not obvious, but I can point it out,” I kept gesturing towards the road, “We should be able to take it, though it is rough, and it might damage the suspension.”

“Well, you know what? I already have to book this