The Relic Runner Origin Story Box Set by Ernest Dempsey (non fiction books to read TXT) 📕

bartender both could mention Dak, but he hadn't done anything to cause any trouble. Paying Merrick a couple of hundred dollars might make the young server think Dak was up to no good, but he doubted it. If anything, the young man would likely deny even mentioning he was there. Unless he was pressured.

Dak let his concerns melt away with the heated liquid around him. There was no reason he couldn't get a good night's sleep. He'd wake up early in the morning and head toward Purgatory Peak. That was why he'd come to Cuchara, to take out Billy and maybe—if he was lucky—find out where Nate went.

His mind set, Dak leaned back and rested his head against the seat back until the water came up to his earlobes. He looked up through the opening in the canopy surrounding the cabin and stared into the cloudless sky at the stars twinkling in their black canvas.

Dak blinked slowly, enjoying the moment. Then he forced himself out of the water, dried off, and went back into the cabin. He had to be up early in the morning and sleep would come at a premium.

He spent the next thirty minutes setting traps at every entry point, including the door onto the porch. The alarm system was a trick he'd learned in his childhood, using common kitchen utensils and dishes to alert him if an intruder entered.

If someone were to try to slide up a window or crack open a door, he would know it by the sound of a crashing plate, bowl, or drinking glass.

When he was finished setting his traps, he rinsed off in the shower and climbed into bed. Dak's confidence in his alarm system was so high, he fell asleep within two minutes, his mind wandering to a café in Istanbul.

Eleven

Cuchara

Tyler paced back and forth across the span of his living room, occasionally stopping to look out through the massive windows that spanned much of the front wall that faced toward the valley.

The clock on his microwave told him it was a few minutes after midnight.

He stopped pacing and turned toward the door leading out to the huge deck that wrapped around three sides of the cabin. He pushed the door open and stepped into the chill, thinking he'd heard a sound coming from the valley below.

After a few misty breaths, he managed to convince himself it was just his imagination. The sound of the breeze blowing through branches, howling at certain points along the slopes beneath him, was the only sound that reached the top of the mountain.

Tyler chose this spot for a reason.

He had a wide field of view from up here and could see or hear pretty much anything approaching. An electronic gate blocked the driveway leading up to the cabin. The driveway itself was nothing more than a gravel trail that wound up the mountain slopes. Cameras around the gate also alerted Tyler to anyone curious enough to wander too close. Even if a trespasser decided to circumvent the gate and go it on foot, they would face a long uphill journey. In a vehicle, it would take nearly fifteen minutes to reach the summit.

That was more than enough time for him to prepare.

Still, anxiety racked his mind.

"How did he find me?" Tyler asked out loud. His voice died in the cool darkness, sucked up by the trees. "I was careful. I took every precaution." Anger and frustration overshadowed each word.

He had been careful.

The other men from the team didn’t even know he was here, as far as he was aware. He'd been able to keep tabs on Collier for the simple reason that the man was a loose cannon, a true sociopath in every sense of the word. Nathan Collier always rubbed him the wrong way. The guy enjoyed killing; took a sick sort of pleasure in watching his enemies perish, and often in gruesome ways.

When parting ways with the others—all agreeing never to make contact again—Billy did everything he could to track Collier, if for no other reason than to make sure the man never tried to hunt him down and take his share. Billy always had suspicions that one of the others would do that, make a play for a larger chunk of the fortune they'd gleaned from their discovery in Iraq.

Even with most of his money secured in various accounts and shelters under his new identity as Tyler Mumford, there was still a good amount of it in the safe in the cabin's basement. He'd always believed that bullion was a commodity that needed to be kept on hand, and so Tyler invested heavily in it.

Gold and silver could be exchanged anywhere in the world, so he kept nearly a quarter of his remaining funds on site in case he had to bug out and drop off the grid.

He spun around and stormed back into the cabin with no answers and more questions than he had when he stepped outside.

If it was Dak who'd killed his new friends, Tyler needed a plan. Would he stay and fight? Or should he take his resources, load up, and leave? He’d disappeared once. He could do it again.

Or could he?

If Dak had tracked him down once, he could do it again.

Paranoia gripped Tyler as he stalked into the kitchen and stopped at the corner where a collection of bourbon bottles occupied the marble countertop. He reached for a bottle of Blade and Bow and simultaneously slid a tumbler closer to the edge, away from the backsplash. He poured a couple of fingers into the glass, set the bottle down, and took a big gulp.

The smooth burn tickled his throat as he swallowed. He let out a relieved sigh and poured a second drink, then capped the bottle. Tyler turned with his glass, content to sip this one, and made his way over to the couch where the fire crackled in the hearth.

He ran through the crime scene again in his head—the bodies laid out on