Dammit, he cared for Kate. Too much. She was a long-term girl; he was a short-term guy. No ties, no lies.
He’d seen a few successes. Some of the guys in his recon unit managed to keep relationships intact from half a world away. But the odds for him were a gazillion to one. Getting involved? Not for him. No way would he put his heart out there to be run over by a Hummer. Hell, whatever they had now would end as soon as she learned the rest about her precious brother.
Stow that. He rubbed his sternum. He needed to think of her only as his principal. Compartmentalize. Be in the zone. Concentrate on protecting her and not possessing her.
Her phone rang. She lifted it from atop her pack, her eyes wide in stark fear.
“If it’s the kidnapper, keep him on the line. Give Mara time. She’s close.” He turned on his phone, extended and rotated the antenna. His pulse hopped like a jackrabbit as he waited for the satellite link.
She set her antenna. “Same as before, a blocked number.”
Come on, come on, damn you. When the link icon popped up on the screen, he hit speed-dial.
Mara picked up before the second ring. “I’m on it.”
“Fingers crossed,” he said to the DSF researcher, then set his phone aside. Leaning close to Kate, he looped an arm around her quaking shoulders. “I’m here.”
With a shaking finger, she pressed the button. “Is my brother there?”
A bark of a laugh. “I have him. Time is short. When you arrive K’eq Xlapak?”
Max scowled. Same voice. Less muffled. Definitely male. Fuck, still not sure of the accent.
“Soon. I’m not sure.” Her voice shook, and she pressed a hand to her stomach, but she lifted her chin in defiance. “I have to be sure my brother’s... all right. You must let me talk to him. He—”
The kidnapper grunted. “I must do nothing. You must meet me and hand over Kizin.”
Her phone beeped. Kate frowned and pointed to the warning notice on the screen.
Shit, low battery. They couldn’t catch a break, couldn’t switch to their last spare in mid call. Nothing Max could do but hope the fuckin’ thing lasted a few more minutes. He covered the microphone. “I know. Hang in there. Don’t mention the chopper. Tell him we’re lost.”
“I need time.” Her voice rasped like she’d swallowed sand. “Tremors have felled trees and blocked the trails. We have to find our way through the jungle by compass. It’s slow. I don’t know exactly where we are. How can I meet you?”
“I will find you.”
“If you have harmed Doug, you will not get the statue. Let me speak to him. Please.”
Muffled voices came across, as if the kidnapper had covered the speaker with his hand.
Kate bent forward, head lowered, her breathing labored.
Damn the bastards to hell. Max couldn’t help a silent plea this delay would give Mara enough time. “You’re doing good, darlin’. A little longer.”
A shuffling sound as the phone was transferred. “Katie?”
She straightened, her headlamp flickering on the dripping wall. “Doug.” Her breathing hitched and she straightened. “Dear God, Doug, are you okay?”
“Yeah, yeah, but these bas—” A grunt as the receiver was probably snatched away.
These bastards. So the guy in charge who talked to Kate, and God knew how many others.
A sob escaped Kate, and Max squeezed her shoulders. Sucking in a breath, she nodded.
“Kizin will be mine.” The kidnapper’s tone was flat. “Or your brother is a dead man.”
“Don’t do it, Katie!” Doug yelled in the background.
The connection went silent.
She sagged against Max. “The battery died.”
He picked up his phone. “Mara?”
He could hear her tapping keys. “Call came from near the temple site. We’ll find Fontaine. Mr. Devlin says Del Rio’s close.”
After he explained about the underground river, he disconnected.
Mara was right about Del Rio. The next question was what the hell to do if Max and Kate met up with the kidnappers first.
If they lived to find out.
***
Kate dipped her paddle into the inky water.
The river flowed in from the right—the north—and disappeared down a tunnel to the left—toward the south. Stalactites hung here and there in glistening columns. They could be hazardous as the canoe floated southward. Safety would mean staying sharp.
From the canoe’s stern, Max said, “It’ll be all right. You’ll see. We’ll make it.”
“If anyone can get us through this, it’s you. I know you’ll do whatever it takes.”
“This river’s dangerous, but so’s the jungle. And none of our pursuers can follow us down here. We have the only boat.”
The canoe rocked as he adjusted the tent and pack between them. He turned off the halogen lamp, saving its last battery for emergencies. Only their headlamps would light the way as they paddled into the yawning black maw ahead. If she reached up, she could touch the ceiling. She had headroom, but Max? She twisted slightly.
He slouched in his seat, looking not unlike a surly teenager.
“Comfy?”
He winked. “I’ll need a back massage when this is over. Or more.”
“Deal.” Cheered, she dug in her paddle and pulled back hard.
“Take it easy, darlin’.”
Shook her head and stroked hard again.
“Time’s short, but so’s the reach of our beams. Paddle steady. The current will take us.” Max’s beam swept a jutting rock to their right.
Her pulse jumped. She’d nearly propelled them into that. If they damaged the canoe or overturned... She yanked her paddle from the water. “Oh God, Max, I didn’t think.”
“Chill. Oh, right, you’re already chilled.” His deep chuckle and the bad joke were probably meant to ease her fright. Not working.
Resigned, she smoothed her paddle strokes. Silence settled over them as they glided along. The only sounds were the lap and drip of water, the plash of paddles, and their labored breathing.
Her headlamp caught a sleek, silvery shape undulating past the canoe. “What kind of fish could be down here?”
“Beats me. Mexico has a connected, underground river system where I did some cave diving.”
“Even on vacation you do extreme sports?”
“Darlin’, on vacation I hardly move except to eat. The only exercise I want is in bed.”
The thought of vacation with Max eddied heat through her. Would they even see each other once they returned to the States? That thought wiped out the warmth. “If not vacation, then what?”
“DSF contracted to protect artifacts and fossils for a university team who were researching a connected river system. They found mammoth fossils and smashed pottery where the Maya made offerings. Another team identified dozens of fish and crustaceans. No monsters down here. Don’t worry. Tomás said nothing to fear.”
Except high water or a tremor. The words whispered through her, and the next dip of her paddle rapped her knuckles on the side of the canoe.
***
Several times the tunnel narrowed then widened again. Max hoped like hell his encouraging words to Kate held true. She’d been nothing but perky when they stopped to eat but he could tell her smiles were only a façade. She was scared. Dios, so was he.
But she didn’t complain or break down. Kept doing what was necessary. They had to make it. He had to keep his commitment and make sure she did too. If they didn’t make it—no, not an option.
But when they stopped for the night, should he tell her how he felt about her? How could he find the words? If he did, she wouldn’t laugh. Not Kate. She’d let him down gently. No future for them anyway, but— Shit. Coward. A thick constriction bound his chest. Fucking emotions. Action suited him better.
He switched his paddle to his right hand. His neck and his butt hurt. For once he wouldn’t mind being shorter by a few inches.
&nbs
p; The villagers fished the river but they obviously hadn’t ranged down this far. No torch-blackened smears on the walls.
An hour later, they entered a large chamber similar to the entrance but with no surface access. His light-up watch dial indicated night was closing in, and the halogen lamp showed him the tunnel ahead widened yet again. But damn, more twists and turns in this sucker than the Brazos.
He rolled his shoulders as he straightened, grateful for the brief respite.
And then he heard it.
A distant rumble, like thunder. Then louder.
When ripples danced on the water’s surface, he knew. One of Kizin’s tremors headed this way. A clump of dirt and roots fell from above and splashed beside the canoe. The constriction spread and congealed in his gut.
“A tremor?” Kate had stopped paddling. Her voice was high pitched. “What do we do?”
He scanned the cavern walls with his headlamp. A ledge jutted out about fifteen feet up. Solid looking beneath. High enough, wide enough? Their only chance. As long as it held. “Now’s the time to paddle like hell. I’m taking us over to the left. Water’s coming. Maybe the tremor or maybe it rained upstream. Gotta get up high.”
She dug in with her paddle.
Waves kicked up, splashing into the canoe. A mineral-coated stalactite snapped off with a crack like a pistol shot and dropped to their right.
In a few strokes, they made it to the ledge. A lip below was wide enough to stand on. They climbed out and he dragged the canoe behind him. Waves lapped the rock. The cavern shook, raining pebbles and dirt from the ceiling and walls. The ominous rumbling sound grew to a gurgling roar.
“Will this be high enough?” she yelled, gripping the bumpy rock.
“No choice. We have to hunker up there. Stuff your camera bag into the pack.” When she started to object, he said, “Pack’s waterproof. It’ll float.”
Mouth tight, she complied, making certain the flap was secure before turning to the wall.
He boosted her up so she could climb. Reminded himself she knew what she was doing, even on the slippery rock. She found footholds, cracks to grasp with her fingers. Pushed herself upward with her legs. Slipped backward but caught hold.
Waves crashed against the ledge. Water covered his booted feet. The cavern was cool, the water frigid in comparison. Shivers raced up his spine.
When Kate made it onto the ledge, he handed up the tent and the backpack.
The roar became a muffled booming as rushing water filled the tunnel. They had only seconds before the surge hit the chamber. He followed her up the rock with the canoe’s mooring line in his teeth. The ledge could barely hold the two of them and the pack.
His mouth was dry as West Texas and his hands were clammy. Time for balls-to-the-wall effort. He took a deep, steadying breath. Distanced himself from everything but what he had to do. Hauled the canoe up with them. They’d be done for if they lost their transportation.
A liquid monster burst from the tunnel. It churned and thrashed as it clawed up the walls. In no time the roiling flood clawed toward their perch. The entire cavern shook and rumbled like the earth was coming apart.
Chapter Twenty-Six
Max planted himself in front of Kate. Pushed the heavy backpack beside her as a buttress. “Stay back against the wall as far as you can.”
“Get back here with me.” She clamped a hand on his shoulder.
“Better if I stay here. The canoe will be my protection.” He gripped the craft by the middle thwart, held it like a shield. His back against Kate, he braced himself. Their rock ledge was lumpy and slimy, smelling of minerals. Soon it would be even wetter.
Waves attacked the canoe’s keel. Sucked at the craft. Even without wind, the rushing water roared louder than an entire troop of howler monkeys. His headlamp showed only clawing waves and glistening rock.
Icy water splashed around the canoe. Over it. Over him. The intense cold soaked him. He gasped.
Kate shrieked. The icy water had reached her too, drenching her.
He dug his heels into the limestone. His shoulder muscles burned but he hung on. The rock shivered and quaked, cracking like gunshots when chunks fell away. He prayed to every god he could name, including Chac and Kizin, that enough of this cold, wet slab would hold, that it wouldn’t become their grave. The idea of dying down here scared him shitless.
They couldn’t even alert Thomas. No satellite coverage beneath tons of rock.
“Max, the tent!” He felt her reach for the bag as another chunk of ledge broke off.
“Let it go. Stay back!” He propped himself harder against her to hold her in place.
She cried out but did as he said. As the tent bag fell away, he heard the splash. When her hands gripped his shoulders and hung on, he concentrated on blocking the waves that could sweep them to their deaths.
Kate gritted her teeth against the pain radiating from her shoulder—the same shoulder she’d hurt the day before—or two days before. She no longer knew. She’d slammed into a jutting rock when she tried to save the tent. Now she lay sprawled against the ledge with Max’s warm bulk pressed against her. She held onto him and the unforgiving rock with every muscle in her body.
The waves subsided as the tremor calmed. Barricading themselves against the water had seemed like an eon, but she guessed lasted only ten minutes.
“Water’s not rising any more,” he said.
“I’m so wet I can’t tell the difference.”
She let go of his shoulders and sagged, limp and shivering. How some people got a high from an adrenaline rush, she had no idea. Adventure was one thing, but this near-death thing she could do without. The pack lay beside her, drenched on the outside but safe, with Kizin sealed within.
She ought to be numb but her shoulder disagreed. Pain radiated through the bone and muscle.
“We survived,” he said. “The water didn’t reach us. Stalactites didn’t fall on us.”
She pushed against his back. “You’re crushing me.”
“Darlin’, you never complained before.”
“First time for everything.” He exuded heat but his hard body pressed her injury against the harder rock. She prodded his spine with a finger. “I want to see below.”
Sitting up, he slid the canoe aside, keeping it securely on their ledge. He was rubbing his arms. They must ache after holding the canoe to fend off the waves. To protect her. She wouldn’t complain about her shoulder.
Their headlamps showed the river swirling about five feet below. The black water gleamed like oil, reflecting their twin points of light.
He curved an arm around her and she couldn’t help wincing. “You’re hurt. What happened?”
“It’s nothing. I’m okay.”
He withdrew his arm and peered at her shoulder. “Not okay. You’re bleeding.”
She explained as he lit the lantern. The light showed the sharp rock that had dug her like a knife. She let him pull off her shirt and bandage the wound.
“Small but deep. You should have stitches,” he said. “But the good news is all that water washed the cut clean.”
“Yes, all that water. Like you predicted, we’re trapped. We’ll drown or s-s-starve.” Fear and pain added an edge to her voice she couldn’t hide.
“No, we’ll make it out.”
“Have you received a message from Kizin or what?”
He chuckled, a wonderful, resonant sound that warmed her inside. “Water always seeks its level. Look. It’s down more. It’ll recede. Drain out the downstream tunnel.”
“How long?” She heard the desperate hope in her voice.
“Several hours, probably. The chamber will return to the level it was and we can go on. We should get some sleep while we can.”
She cast a look around at the wet rock ledge that saved them. Nothing but more rock and loose shale. “I wish we had some wood to build a fire.”
Who’d have thought hypothermia would be a problem in Costa Verde? They couldn’t afford to lose aler
tness or their strength. The river’s exit lay miles away.
“We need to eat something, put on dry clothes. These will dry when we make camp. You can have a fire then.”
She managed a wobbly smile. “Good plan. You can keep me warm while we wait.”
“Darlin’, we think alike.”
Keeping each other warm consisted of holding on tight. For anything more, the ledge was too slippery and narrow, and she hurt too much. Being held in his strong arms revived her more than the change of clothes and cold tortillas. Clicking off the lantern and headlamps threw them into darkness black as... hell, black as a cave. Not even a glimmer of light found its way from the surface. They had only sound and touch to orient them.
She snuggled against his biceps. “This made me remember something that happened on a dig a few years ago in Arizona. One of the grad students drowned in a flash flood.”
“In one of those dry washes?”
“You guessed it. We were warned to watch the weather and keep a lookout up high. Our dig was a mile away, but she thought she saw pottery in the wash. On her time off, she slipped away to search.”
“Alone?” He brushed a strand of hair from her cheek.
Kate nodded against his arm. “There’d been a storm up in the hills. The water must’ve been on her before she knew it. They found her body a few miles downstream.”
“That shouldn’t happen to anybody. But she was careless. We haven’t been careless.”
She caressed his chin cleft with an index finger. “Thanks to you.”
“Hey, you’ve done your part. More than I expected. Your dad would be damned proud. And we’ll make it. Hold that thought.”
They had to make it. If they didn’t Mom would lose both her children. She had done her part, hadn’t she? More than she’d ever thought she could do. But was Max right, that Dad would be proud? Maybe, if he knew everything. Or maybe you do know, Dad.
Unable to reply with her heart in her throat, she kissed Max.
“Good night, Lara Croft.”
***
In the morning, Max reckoned the flood level had fallen enough that they could paddle onward. Dry, warmer, and rested, they headed into the downstream tunnel. The water hadn’t receded to its original level, forcing Max to lie back even lower. Kate barely had head room.
On Deadly Ground (Devlin Security Force Book 1) Page 24