by Chris Lange
She and Garrett walked past the first row of hellhounds to find themselves surrounded by the cold leaping beasts.
What if she was wrong? What if her hunch sucked? What if the access to the invisible complex was anywhere but here? What if the mechanical guards decided to become alive again? Well, she’d have a tough time explaining that to Garrett before they were shredded to gory pieces.
Whatever. She’d follow her instincts and trust her dad. The bond between them had been frayed but if he believed she possessed the means to succeed, that was that. He was a man of his word and convictions. Thinking about it, she began to understand why Garrett held him in such high esteem.
Echoing across the distance, a howl tore through her train of thought. It didn’t sound like any kind of domesticated dog, but maybe a coyote? Zigzagging to avoid the hellhounds, she headed for what must be the heart of her father’s destructive chessboard.
Soon she spotted the centerpiece, the only trapdoor standing empty, a black square in the ground. She urged him forward with a large gesture of her arm, eager to show him her discovery. “Look, Garrett, this is it.”
“If you say so.”
“I do. Jeez, you’re one to raise the roof.”
Maybe she displayed her enthusiasm too much, but he sure concealed his like a professional hid his weapons. Even his voice sounded cold.
“All I see is a trapdoor,” Garrett said. “Forgive me for not being in raptures.”
“Use your imagination, will you? Think positive. Don’t you feel excited?” She scanned his face. “Anything could be behind this door.”
“Under, rather than behind, I should say.”
Damn, but what did it take to raise his heartbeat a notch? An earthquake followed by a tsunami?
When he furrowed his brow, she stamped her foot on the ground and dust billowed around them. “Okay, buddy, sulk all you want, I don’t care. I know the painting is down there, and I’m going to get it.”
“I do not sulk and would you please refrain from calling me ‘buddy?’ Need I remind you that we’ve just been introduced to each other? By all accounts, your attitude and your language are most improper.”
She gaped at him, her indignation rising. Dismissed the trapdoor, dismissed the creatures around them. “You’re unbelievable, you know. Don’t you remember last night? Have you forgotten we made love? Well, I haven’t, and I vividly recall your hands all over my body, your lips on mine, your—”
He motioned her to stop. Which was just as well because she wasn’t sure what her next word would have been.
“Miss Richardson,” he said grimly, “I am responsible for my actions. I beg your pardon, for I have breached your integrity and corrupted your morality. I deeply regret that I treated you with dishonor, and I vow it shan’t happen again.”
She was about to tell him she didn’t mind his breaching her integrity once more when the full meaning of his words sank in. He wouldn’t touch her again. Not in this world, not in this era. Her throat constricted, dejection filled her veins and her high spirits plummeted below freezing temperatures.
Regarding her oh-so-awesome father, Garrett made it clear that his sense of duty was major league. As if that idea wasn’t enough, he now ditched her because he respected her too much. Damn him.
Try as she might, she’d never understand him. They literally were from different universes and she feared their otherness might only separate them.
Guts twisted, she averted his gaze. “Let’s get this over with.”
Oblivious to anything but the deep ache gnawing at her heart, she stepped on the trapdoor. Signs resembling letters appeared to be engraved into the black surface, but it was too dark to make them out.
She kneeled and squinted before she ran her fingers over the engraved characters. When she finally made sense of what she was looking at, the four little words sent her straight to memory land.
Once upon a time.
“Oh, my gosh.” Understanding dawned on her. Not so much of a riddle as a recollection of happy times, year after year. The only moments her father never missed. He was away or busy all the time except on her birthdays. And he wouldn’t have missed one, would he? Oh no, not her birthdays.
She’d been a fool to think her dad celebrated those special days with her out of love. A real dimwit. Naïve, and so easy to deceive.
Dad had planned a long way ahead. He’d wanted her to retrieve his secret box from the garden in case of an emergency, so he had instructed her in everything she’d need for the task. She took it as a training game at the time, not really believing he might be serious. Their so-called game had turned out to be all-too real.
Studying the four words on the trapdoor, Tracy started to wonder what else her father had implanted in her mind, all the while brainwashing her like a guinea pig. At last, she knew what the means to enter the complex meant.
Not an object or a riddle, but a memory. And the precious knowledge had been inside her from the very beginning. Her eyes watered as she perceived Garrett kneeling beside her.
She blinked. “See there?”
“What is it?” Garrett asked.
She moved a little to the side so he could make out the words. With him watching, she traced the first letter with her finger.
“Every year for my birthday, Dad used to write this in chocolate on my cake: ‘Once upon a time.’ I loved old fairytale stories back then so I was convinced he took pains to do this just for me. Because I was his little girl and he loved me with all his heart. I guess I couldn’t have been more wrong.” She paused as someone called out from the train, five hundred feet away.
Weedon, Jessica, and maybe Jake must be looking for them by now, but they weren’t likely to spot them in the near darkness.
Too bad.
“Before I opened my presents,” she said in a shaking voice, “Dad would tell me to blow out the candles. I used to ask him if my wish would come true. All he ever replied was that wishes were for foolish people, and the important thing was to read the words and blow out the candles. Always blow out the candles.”
When Garrett remained silent, her fingers began to shake a little, the surrounding darkness facilitating the display of images in her mind. “I never got the hang of it but I took his statement for granted. He was my father, so he was right.”
Her childhood recollections were now tainted with manipulation and betrayal. She cast Garrett a sideways glance. This damn hot man made passionate love to her last night, but would he also betray her tomorrow?
“Garrett, I’m sure this recollection is the way in. Are you ready?”
He took hold of her hand.
She leaned forward and blew on the inscription.
Unlike a candle in the wind, the trapdoor lowered, taking them down, enshrouding them in a world of even deeper darkness.
Down they went, briefly.
Once they stepped onto solid ground, the trapdoor went back up. She heard a clicking, shutting sound. She stepped forward and light burst from bulbs overhead.
Garrett took a long look around. “I’d wager the light is connected to heat sensors.”
Surprise halted her progress. Surely, that kind of technology hadn’t been invented yet. “Where have you heard about heat sensors?”
“William.”
Right. Regardless of time periods, knowledge had to be passed on. Her father sure taught him well. Shrugging, she licked her lips. “How are we going to get out now?” She scanned their surroundings, astonished by what she discovered.
Seeming less impressed, he placed a hand over his holster. “I believe we ought to evaluate this location first.”
“Okay.”
The huge place didn’t look like a laboratory. If not for the bright lights, she’d have called it spooky. The room appeared built on m
etallic structures bearing solid concrete, the floor black as night.
Great ebony arches supported the ceiling, standing guard over a big telepod in the center of the room. Here comes another telepod.
The whole setting gave the impression of an enormous mother spider sheltering its egg. Not a sight she favored much.
Curiosity enhancing his features, Garrett walked briskly toward the telepod. “By George. I’ve always known William to be a man of genius. However, this is rather unanticipated.”
“Yeah, he’s a real rocket scientist if you ask me.” She seethed with sarcasm, but she couldn’t care less while she brooded over the fact that her father used her like a pawn in his end game. Yet she didn’t voice her resentment, fearful of an even worse revelation.
The better part of the massive room was clustered with a range of computers, equipment, wires, and electronic devices only William Richardson knew how to bring into play. Even if he was a mastermind, she couldn’t think of any extenuating circumstances for his past behavior toward her.
Actually, the deeper she went into his underground world, the more hurt and betrayed she felt. Her godlike dad was turning out to be uncaring, treacherous, and manipulative. And she couldn’t handle that.
“Miss Richardson, look over there.” Garrett walked straight to the other side of the lab.
Lost in her distress, she followed him without a second thought.
A thin layer of dust covered the workbench of a twenty-first century kitchen featuring a ceramic glass cooktop, a microwave oven and a coffeemaker at the ready. Further along, she laid eyes on a rest area furnished with a dining table, chairs, a leather couch, and a double bed ready to be used.
Right at the back, Garrett pushed open a curtain disclosing a fully equipped bathroom. “William must have needed this equipment after long hours of work.”
“Sure. Why don’t you spring to his defense?” Although she tried to hold back the biting anger, she was sure that had come out as a high-pitched yell. Especially since his lack of understanding showed on his face.
“I’m afraid I don’t comprehend your emotion.”
Of course not. Why would he? One didn’t grasp irritation, or misery, or deep hurt, because one had been brought up to contain such improper sentiments, and one didn’t realize the terrible implications even when they sprang at one’s face. She gripped the back of a kitchen chair.
“No, you don’t, and how could you? You’re blinded by his talent and achievements, that’s all you can see. Gosh, you’re just like him.”
“What should I see?”
“Open your eyes and look.” With her five fingers still wrapped tight on the back of the chair, she used her free hand to motion to the area around them. “Dad didn’t build this lab just to work. This is his getaway. Do you think he’d have restored this place if he’d been happy at home with us?”
Garrett drew in a long breath while he unfastened his weapon belt before dropping it on the kitchen table. “Well I—”
“He could have worked from home, but guess what? He was never there. And why is that, do you think?”
“His reasons are his own.”
She banged the chair on the floor, knuckles whitening, heart swelling and retreating with each breath. “Let me tell you his reasons. Dad is nothing but an inconsiderate selfish man, and he’s been living a double life all those years.”
“William is too honest a person to—”
“Please, Garrett.”
Maybe he meant well, but hearing her father’s praise right now was beyond her abilities. She held her hand up. “I can’t take a lecture right now. This is all too devastating.”
Even though Garrett didn’t grasp her state of mind, he seemed to understand that she wasn’t to be pushed. “Let’s look for the painting.”
She managed a nod before loosening the fingers gripping the chair, relieved to see he’d give her a respite.
They didn’t bother with drawers or filing cabinets, given the size of the work of art. Instead, they focused on bigger pieces of furniture liable to contain the much desired item. They checked the whole living area but all their efforts came to nothing.
As a last resort, she even rummaged through files on a writing desk. She heaved a long sigh, contemplating the fact that there was no other place to check out, losing heart completely. “This is pointless. We’ll never find it.”
“It must be here.”
“All right, where is it then?”
His reluctant silence made her feel worse, especially when he spread his hands in a patient gesture. “I don’t have the faintest idea, but I shall do everything in my power to locate it.”
“Do you know what this means, Garrett?”
He cocked his head gently while warm tears brimmed in her eyes.
Her mouth quivered. “It means we’ll never find Dad. He might be hurt, bleeding, or dead already, and look at me. Here I am, crying and babbling, doing nothing to save him . . . just doing nothing when he is probably . . .”
Garrett brought her into his arms and held her.
She leaned against his strong chest, the steady beat of his heart accentuating the rhythm of her pulse. Yet she refrained from snuggling when Garrett whispered over her head, “Don’t be anxious. All shall be well, Miss Richardson.”
Hearing her full name on his lips was the final bounce on a somewhat bumpy road.
In a matter of hours, she’d been threatened by a whacko, thrown into another universe, attacked, abused, and given no time to adjust to her uncommon situation, or to her father’s disappearance.
Whether in good faith or not, Jake had been pestering and insulting her while Garrett, the man she was supposed to trust, toyed with her feelings. And now, she’d just reached the point where too much was too much.
She tore herself away from his embrace, heedless of anything in her outrage. With a brutal gesture, she swept clean the desk beside her. Her father’s files flew like bullets, crashing to the floor and spreading out in all directions.
But her frustration still boiled inside her. She started kicking at the papers, kicking at the desk legs, banging her fists on the work table, crying out with fury.
Garrett tried to reach out, but she backed away from him.
“Don’t you touch me.” Hands balled into fists, pulse overloading, she confronted him like a wrestler about to leap on his foe. “Do not speak to me!”
She was way past talking, reasoning, soothing, or anything resembling lukewarm sentiments. She’d bottled up her darker emotions for too long, carried along in a whirlwind of agitation she never asked for. Now she desperately needed to let them out, but for the life of her, she didn’t know how.
Garrett grabbed her arm and dragged her across the room, his gaze glinting with resolve.
She squirmed against him. “What are you doing? Let go of me!”
“Not as long as you’re out of control. You need release, Miss Richardson, and I shall give it to you.”
When they reached the living room area, he released her, then quickly pulled down his pants and sat on the kitchen chair.
Her bottom lip dropped as the sudden sight of his nudity cleared her mind.
He looked straight into her eyes. His fully disclosed erection awaiting her touch, he spoke in decisive, meaningful words. “I am yours for the taking.”
Chapter 13
At first Tracy just glared at him, unable to understand what he was telling her to do. When his gaze didn’t waver, she acknowledged the determination etched on his features, in the set of his mouth.
He wasn’t pulling a stunt but actually offering his help, and his quick nod confirmed her suspicions.
She had to swallow hard. “You’re insane.” Her voice was almost inaudible, a whisper arisen from misery but, at last, bring
ing her back to reality.
This time he glared at her. “Do it!”
His commanding order and harsh tone quickened her pulse and stirred up a different kind of disorder in her mind. His naked desire in plain sight, he wasn’t in the least afraid of blowing wide open his private life, and he obviously expected her to make good use of it. Seriously?
“Garrett, I—”
“Do it!”
His eyes fixed on her, he repeated his command without an ounce of sympathy. Only purpose. Wavering might strengthen his resolve, and tremors slithered up her spine when another injunction whipped her. “Don’t just stand there like a stricken Vestal at sundown. Sit on me.”
She knew he was feeding off her anger, trying to shock her and push her over the edge, to the place where rationality packs its bags and flesh prevails. The trick worked. His deliberate, abrasive words suddenly aroused her, sending shards of desire throughout her limbs as she lowered her hands.
She removed her panties, the loose white fabric easily sliding over her ankle boots. Lifting her dress up, she came to him, close to him, above him. She spread her legs, yet he didn’t move a single muscle, didn’t in any way alleviate her unease over her own boldness. Still, she hesitated. “This is madness.”
“Get down!”
His voice again, so rough and commanding, impossible to resist.
A tremor of excitement made her fingers tremble around the hem of her dress as a rush of moistness filled her. Wide open to receive him, she moved to rest on his erection and heard his intake of breath when she touched him.
Not quite taking him inside, she saw the flicker of lust alighting in his eyes. She put her hands on his shoulders, taking some weight off her legs. Then she took a bit more of him inside her, just a touch.