Page 84 of Wildest Dreams

I know in my heart of hearts that Austin didn't kill Clay. I also know my dad didn't either. He was dazed and roughed around, all it had to take was one slip for him to hit his head. The way Austin and my dad dealt with him wouldn't have caused his death.

Rubbing my finger along my bottom lip, I try and wrack my brain for something to give, for something to click on what may or may not have happened to him.

Pacey lets out some form of grunt, and my eyes slice across to where he is sitting. His face a constant scowl. A rumbling, dark cloud hanging over his usual sunshine and rainbow self.

“You okay?” I ask the stupid question and he returns a raise of his eyebrows. The last time I saw Pacey in this kind of mood was when everything went down with Riggs, Harlow and Aspen.

Harlow.

A pain sears through my beating heart at the loss of her. I know she wasn't always the nicest, but people liked her. Sure, she had a few enemies and some probably wanted to see her downfall but that didn't mean that any of those would have wanted to see her dead.

She didn't deserve that.

No one did.

Not even Clay.

But I would keep that to myself.

“All sunshine and rainbows brother, how about you?” he snarls, lip turning like a rabid dog, and I shake my head from side to side.

This hasn't just changed him; it's changed all of us.

Altering our brain chemistry somehow, throwing it out of balance.

It was weird. Couldn't really explain it.

“Don't be a dick man,” I scoff, shaking my head as I sip on my whiskey and welcome the warmth that the amber liquid gives me.

“Not being a dick at all, just a little sour,” he hisses at me, rolling his eyes.

“Pacey!” Riggs snaps, a little more assertive than he was probably wanting to be.

We hear the huff that passes Pacey's lips and we all sigh.

Silence creeps around us, Conrad sits in the corner, eyes moving between me and my brothers slowly as if trying to read the room.

“We need to go down to the mines,” Riggs finally says, breaking the crackling tension that was growing as the seconds passed.

“What?” and I have no idea why I am questioning him, I know it as much as him that we need to see what's down there before Wallen and the fuck head suits get there.

“How are we going to get down there? Your ranch sits over it...” Conrad says softly, nursing his own whiskey, sipping it.

“Don't you worry about the how son, I grew up here, I've been down that mine a few times,” my dad says loud and proud as he walks into the living room and pours his own whiskey.

“Is there anything down there?” and now I ask because I need to know. I need to know if this an outright suicide missionor whether there is something down there that is worth more than life itself to these suits. If it meant they took the mines and left our ranch and land alone, I would gladly pass it up, but I am terrified that wouldn't be enough for the greedy sons of a bitches.

“There was... once upon a time,” he says with a gruffness to his tone, perching himself on the arm of a chair, both fingers wrapped around the crystal etched glass.

All eyes are on my dad.

“Years and years ago, I'm talking about when I was a youngster, a fourteen carat diamond was found down that mine by my grandpa, Dusty,” my dad shuffles, readjusting himself before taking a sip. “He hid it for years, never told anyone about it. I had no idea just what it was, just knew it was my grandpa's special stone.”

We all stay silent as he continues.

“One day some men came, telling my grandpa it was theirs and that he needed to hand it over. He swore blind that he had no idea what they were on about and he was arrested there on the spot. Times were different back then, you didn't get away with half the shit you youngsters do now...” and he fucking eyeballs all of us. Including Conrad. “Anyway,” he clears his throat, “he never came home, my dad—your grandpa—refused to talk about it, and still till this day, we have no idea where he hid the stone. Rumour has it that the Montana Pearl still sits down in those mines, but team after team have been down there, until it was shut off and deemed redundant.”

“What are your thoughts?” Riggs asks, sitting on the edge of his chair, his whiskey swirling in his glass as he softly moves it.

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