Lucas jogs ahead of me and leans against my truck door with his arms crossed. “Sorry, Wild Girl. You’re coming with us tonight.” His gaze turns serious as I approach him, and he lowers his voice. “It’s not safe for you here. Plus, there’s an extra bed and everything. You won’t have to sleep on the couch or on the floor. Also, I promise there are locks. Exterior and interior.”
I look around. Todd’s probably passed out, Dickie’s house was always a last resort, and an extra bed with locks sounds too tempting. It’s obviously my best bet, not that they’re going to let me get away with staying anywhere else. But, if I decide now, then they’re not making me, and I can still keep some of my dignity. “Fine,” I say. “But tomorrow, one of you assholes is fixing the lock on my door. Got it?”
Lucas is already sharing a look with Wyatt and Stone well before I get the demand out. There’s something about it that unnerves me. They warned me about someone else looking for the treasure. Maybe they were right. Or maybe this is just some elaborate plan they concocted to make sure I follow through on my word.
Whatever the case is, I’m still on my own and the plan hasn’t changed.
13
I follow Wyatt’s truck out of town. The blazing red taillights cut through the dark night as Lucas sits stiffly beside me on the bench. He’s acting differently than when we made our way to the dorms after the party. I’m itching to ask him what he thought about my room being fucked with, but I can’t quite make myself say the words. I’m still debating on whether I think they had something to do with it even though my intuition is telling me otherwise. For once, I think it might be wrong.
Wyatt puts his signal on and turns down a driveway. I don’t ever come this way out of town because it’s in the opposite way of the mountains, so I have no idea what’s in store for me until the house looms into view when we’re halfway down the driveway. It’s set back from the road about a half-mile, and I almost choke as it comes into full view. It’s legitimately the nicest thing in all of Clary.
I’m astounded, and a trickle of unease courses through me in the next moment. I’m so out of my league. I grew up in a rustic cabin without my own bedroom. Sometimes, we didn’t even have running water. My dorm is a five-star hotel to me. This may as well be a palace.
“Nothing but the best for the Jacobs,” Lucas says, sighing like he can already read my mind.
“You’re staying here?” I ask.
A tick flutters in his jaw. “Lance had it built because he knew we were going to transfer to Saint Clary’s.”
“Why did you transfer anyway?” I ask. I park behind a garage bay while Wyatt pulls his truck into it.
“Why do we do anything?” Lucas says cryptically.
His words hang in mystery, and I just can’t stop myself. I take the bait, if that’s what it is. “Why do you do anything?”
He flicks his gaze to me, then gives me a small smile before pushing the door to my dad’s truck open and jumping out. He’s definitely sobered throughout this whole ordeal. With his sobriety brings more guarded behavior. Ridiculously, I liked the Lucas that opened up to me more. Even when he was saying shit that pissed me off, at least it wasn’t this Lucas who’s retreated back inside himself.
My truck door swings open with a loud creak. I cringe at the sound of the rusty parts moving together when we’re in such opulence. Stone doesn’t seem to mind though. He offers me his hand like I need help getting out of the truck I’ve spent my whole life jumping down from.
I roll my eyes and lower my feet to the ground on my own, making him move back just a little. It’s a small win. Like regaining some of my territory that I’ve lost throughout this. The Jacobs seem to know how to infiltrate someone’s life.
Wyatt is nowhere to be seen, but the garage door lowers as Stone gestures toward the main walk of the house which Lucas is striding up now. On either side, flowery plants dot the landscaping. Every little detail on the outside of the house has been thought of, even ones I doubt the guys have looked twice at.
“Come on,” Stone says. “It’s just a house.”
I fight the urge to snap at him. Not that he doesn’t deserve it but I’m worried that if I do, he’ll see right through me and realize the discomfort I’m feeling from just being next to a house like this, let alone inside it. Seeing something this nice makes me think about everything I didn’t—and don’t—have. I don’t like feeling this way because I know my father did what he could. At least, he did what he could while also fixating on the treasure. My father was a brilliant man who could have made something of himself. He just had one priority above all else, and that never panned out the way it was supposed to.
“Why do you even want the treasure if you’re already rich?” I ask.
As soon as I say it, I want to take it back. It doesn’t show my discomfort, but it does scream jealousy. Not a good look on anyone.
“It’s not about the gold, Dakota,” Stone says, somehow sounding demeaning and scolding at the same time. “You know that.”
Well, I do. Sort of. The gold would be nice though. When you’re Stone Jacobs, you don’t have to worry about that. You can think about what else the treasure means. Finding a missing piece of history. Getting your names written
