around, cluing Jeremiah
into the gold’s existence. But he’d caught on quick and was of no
use to him anymore, not once he realized Jeremiah wasn’t interested
in sharing the loot. The guys he used to run with during high
school were of no use. They couldn’t break into a piggy bank, let
alone a real one. That’s where these two fit in. It took some
effort, but he’d managed to locate them south of Bryson City,
living in a trailer with two biker babes. The duo had been more
than willing to help. All it took was a few words. Gold . On Ladd Springs .
Grabbing a cold beer from the
refrigerator, Jeremiah returned to the living area and popped it
open. “The office is behind the front desk. And I’ll guarantee you
there’s a safe inside.”
“ How we gonna get in there
without anyone seeing us? They'll know we ain't guests if they see
us behind the counter.”
Jeremiah stared at him, his palm iced
by the cold beer can. Moron. The man was a complete and utter
moron. “Diversion,” Jeremiah said bluntly. “Diversion
101.”
“ Diversion?” the younger
asked with a blank stare.
Glancing sideways, his brother tossed
him a look of disgust. “Distract them so you can get in while
they’re busy doing something else.”
“ Oh... But how we gonna do
that?”
Both men looked to Jeremiah. Pleasure
unwound his mouth into a grin. “I know how to get everyone’s
attention.”
Travis sat in his parked truck, his
lungs pressed tighter than the pages in a legal journal. After
discovering Jeremiah Ladd’s marker had been paid from a bank in
Tennessee—a local bank—Travis decided to follow the man and find
out who his source might be. It had to be someone from Jeremiahs’
old crowd. If the money came from here, it had to be someone he
knew from the old days. Couldn’t have been Clem Sweeney. Despite
the two hooking up during Jeremiah’s last visit to town, Clem was
still in jail and broke as a bone-dry whiskey barrel. Clem might
have been the one responsible for leading Jeremiah to the gold on
Ladd Springs, but he couldn’t help him steal the precious metal.
Couldn’t help him pay his debt either. No, it had to be someone
else.
Glancing around the desolate streets,
the run-down housing and litter-ridden streets, Travis wondered who
around here could have helped Jeremiah pay his way free. This area
was poorer than poor, but this is where Jeremiah had come. Travis
had followed him from a local motel near Fran’s Diner. He had no
problem learning where Jeremiah was staying. A few blind calls
inquiring to speak with Mr. Ladd turned up the right motel when the
clerk offered to connect him with his room. Focusing on the lean-to
of a house, Travis wondered who might be inside with Jeremiah. As
he sat, the humidity built within the confines of his truck cab.
Not a cloud in the sky, it was sunny and warm. Swiping the back of
his hand against his forehead, he hoped Jeremiah wouldn’t stay
inside all day.
The front door of the place swung open
and Travis instinctively ducked, his heart shooting beats into his
ribs. Jeremiah knew what he looked like, and Travis couldn’t risk
being seen while he was spying on the guy. There was no doubt in
his mind that Jeremiah would not take it well. Over the rim of his
dashboard, he chanced a peek. Two men walked out behind Jeremiah.
Two dark-haired men with facial hair, medium build. By the looks of
them they were definitely locals. One hung at the top of the steps
while the other trailed Jeremiah to his truck. The two had words
before Jeremiah climbed in and drove off. As Travis watched,
something struck him as oddly familiar. Were they workers in town?
Had they helped with the construction of the hotel?
Heart pounding hard within his chest,
Travis snapped a few quick shots of the men with his cell phone.
Maybe someone else would recognize them. Debating whether or not to
follow Jeremiah, Travis hesitated. The one man remained outside. If
Travis drove by him now, he might call
into the gold’s existence. But he’d caught on quick and was of no
use to him anymore, not once he realized Jeremiah wasn’t interested
in sharing the loot. The guys he used to run with during high
school were of no use. They couldn’t break into a piggy bank, let
alone a real one. That’s where these two fit in. It took some
effort, but he’d managed to locate them south of Bryson City,
living in a trailer with two biker babes. The duo had been more
than willing to help. All it took was a few words. Gold . On Ladd Springs .
Grabbing a cold beer from the
refrigerator, Jeremiah returned to the living area and popped it
open. “The office is behind the front desk. And I’ll guarantee you
there’s a safe inside.”
“ How we gonna get in there
without anyone seeing us? They'll know we ain't guests if they see
us behind the counter.”
Jeremiah stared at him, his palm iced
by the cold beer can. Moron. The man was a complete and utter
moron. “Diversion,” Jeremiah said bluntly. “Diversion
101.”
“ Diversion?” the younger
asked with a blank stare.
Glancing sideways, his brother tossed
him a look of disgust. “Distract them so you can get in while
they’re busy doing something else.”
“ Oh... But how we gonna do
that?”
Both men looked to Jeremiah. Pleasure
unwound his mouth into a grin. “I know how to get everyone’s
attention.”
Travis sat in his parked truck, his
lungs pressed tighter than the pages in a legal journal. After
discovering Jeremiah Ladd’s marker had been paid from a bank in
Tennessee—a local bank—Travis decided to follow the man and find
out who his source might be. It had to be someone from Jeremiahs’
old crowd. If the money came from here, it had to be someone he
knew from the old days. Couldn’t have been Clem Sweeney. Despite
the two hooking up during Jeremiah’s last visit to town, Clem was
still in jail and broke as a bone-dry whiskey barrel. Clem might
have been the one responsible for leading Jeremiah to the gold on
Ladd Springs, but he couldn’t help him steal the precious metal.
Couldn’t help him pay his debt either. No, it had to be someone
else.
Glancing around the desolate streets,
the run-down housing and litter-ridden streets, Travis wondered who
around here could have helped Jeremiah pay his way free. This area
was poorer than poor, but this is where Jeremiah had come. Travis
had followed him from a local motel near Fran’s Diner. He had no
problem learning where Jeremiah was staying. A few blind calls
inquiring to speak with Mr. Ladd turned up the right motel when the
clerk offered to connect him with his room. Focusing on the lean-to
of a house, Travis wondered who might be inside with Jeremiah. As
he sat, the humidity built within the confines of his truck cab.
Not a cloud in the sky, it was sunny and warm. Swiping the back of
his hand against his forehead, he hoped Jeremiah wouldn’t stay
inside all day.
The front door of the place swung open
and Travis instinctively ducked, his heart shooting beats into his
ribs. Jeremiah knew what he looked like, and Travis couldn’t risk
being seen while he was spying on the guy. There was no doubt in
his mind that Jeremiah would not take it well. Over the rim of his
dashboard, he chanced a peek. Two men walked out behind Jeremiah.
Two dark-haired men with facial hair, medium build. By the looks of
them they were definitely locals. One hung at the top of the steps
while the other trailed Jeremiah to his truck. The two had words
before Jeremiah climbed in and drove off. As Travis watched,
something struck him as oddly familiar. Were they workers in town?
Had they helped with the construction of the hotel?
Heart pounding hard within his chest,
Travis snapped a few quick shots of the men with his cell phone.
Maybe someone else would recognize them. Debating whether or not to
follow Jeremiah, Travis hesitated. The one man remained outside. If
Travis drove by him now, he might call
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