Deadly Influence

by Lakes, Lynde

  Jay grabbed the wine bottle he had been opening, wiped it off with his sleeve, and handed it to her. She raised the bottle, trying to buoy up her spirits. “To getting out of here. Alive.”

  “Take a big swig,” he said. “It’ll ease that pain.”

  The concern in his voice touched her. She stared at him. He had to be freezing without his jacket, yet he had given it to her. This was the real Jay Corning—decent, caring, and heroic. His desire to rescue her had landed him here, trapped along with her. Dear God, she couldn’t let herself love him. It was impractical, impossible. She had to keep her mind on the problem of getting out of here. “We’ll find a way out,” she said, trying to believe it.

  His eyes darkened. “Cling to that hope, okay?”

  “It’s an empty one, isn’t it?”

  Jay looked up and sighed. “When the stairs collapsed, Bud and I thought she would have them replaced. Instead, she just quit using the cellar.”

  “Odd,” Lisa said. “That doesn’t sound like her.”

  “I think grief and depression had something to do with it. The earthquake that caused the damage hit only about six hours after Grandpa’s funeral.”

  “Talk about a bad day.”

  “Yeah. And now we’re having one of our own.”

  Lisa toyed with a string that had come unraveled from the mattress, wrapping and unwrapping it around her finger while she tried to think of a way out. “With the outside entrance sealed by the earthquake and the inside door padlocked, how did the kidnapper get us down here?”

  Jay shrugged. “He would’ve had to unpadlock the door and then use a ladder or pulleys to lower us down here.”

  Jay stood close to where she was sitting, surveying the room. She took another sip of the wine and passed the bottle up to him. He took a swallow, handed the bottle back to her, then strode to the corner where crates were stacked and started moving them around.

  “What are you doing?”

  “I’ll stack these crates and try to get up to the door.”

  “But you said it’d take dynamite to open it without a key.”

  “Maybe I can pick the lock,” he said over his shoulder. “This is all we have.”

  Lisa got up and steadied the crates while he climbed. Suddenly she heard a crack. “Jay, watch out!”

  It was too late. His foot had busted through the decayed wood, and the whole stack of crates tumbled. The damp air, already heavy with mildew, swirled with dust and newly awakened mold. A cacophony of crashing crates echoed around her. Jay landed on his back with a thud.

  “Oh, God.” She hurried to his side and went to her knees. “Are you hurt?”

  “Just my pride.” He coughed from all the dust.

  “It doesn’t look good for us, does it?” Her throat felt tight, dry.

  “Hey, that doesn’t sound like you. We’re not shot down yet.”

  “I know… It’s just that…” Her voice trailed away, and she stared at the crates strewn over the concrete floor. Several of them had splintered. “Let’s take a break and try to come up with a better plan.”

  He glanced at the scattered boxes. “If you have any ideas, I’m willing to listen.” He stood and helped her up.

  “Any dynamite down here?” she asked.

  “Maybe I should have stressed good ideas.”

  She brushed the dirt from the back of his shirt, starting at his wide shoulders and skimming downward, following the tapered cut of the material to his trim waist. The shirt was damp and warm, his aroma enticingly male. She took a shaky breath. Why are we just staring at each other?

  With shaky legs, Lisa sank down on the mattress. He dropped down next to her. She fought her urge to smooth the black, wavy strand of hair from his forehead. “I wish we had some water.” Her throat felt as though she had swallowed a fine lining of dust.

  He passed the wine bottle to her. “The Spanish and Italians drink this stuff like water.”

  “Olé!” she said, then took a sip and passed the bottle back to him. “I’d like to strangle whoever did this to us. His knowledge of this abandoned cellar narrows the suspects.”

  Jay darted a sharp glance at her. Damn it. She expects me to talk about Bud. Who else had complete access to the house? No one. “Let’s not speculate without facts.”

  The disappointment in her eyes made him feel rotten, but no matter what Bud had done in the past, he couldn’t accept that his brother would really hurt their grandma. Admittedly, he was greedy, selfish, a boozer, and a bully, but not a killer.

  Lisa shrugged and gently traced a prominent tendon in his hand, her touch setting his blood on fire. “Sooner or later, you’re going to have to face it that the man behind all this might be family. Maybe even—”

  To stop her from saying Bud’s name, he grabbed her and kissed her. It was crazy to think that by cutting off her words it would keep his brother from being the guilty one. Only when Jay deepened their kiss did he admit that he had only been fooling himself. He had kissed those moist, tempting lips because he wanted to, lips that were warm, pliable, and tasted of wine. Defending Bud was only an excuse.

  At first, Lisa’s eyes widened, and he expected her to push him away, but after only a small hesitation, she drew him closer. He had ignited the fire that had been smoldering between them for days, and, if he was lucky, it was about to rage out of control. His heart pounded as he dared to imagine just letting go, letting their emotions carry them to a hot, passionate world where no one existed but the two of them.

  What was he thinking? She had just come out of surgery, and if that wasn’t enough to cool his jets, when this was all over, their lives would go in opposite directions. He mustn’t start anything he couldn’t finish. He fought with every inch of decency he had in him to regain his dwindling control. He paused and glanced up at the missing stairway. Who was he kidding? Their chance of getting out of this one was slim to none. It was starting to make perfect sense… They were here… now. If they had to die down here, why not in each other’s arms? And he could be very gentle. He feathered kisses from her ear to the warm, tender hollow of her neck, while he sought the soft mounds of her breasts.

  “Jay,” she whispered, leaning back in his arms.

  He cupped her face in his hands and traced her lips tenderly. “You want me to stop?” He hated the huskiness in his voice.

  “Don’t you dare. We both know we’re trapped.” She sank against him and offered her lips again.

  He didn’t care if she was talking about the way they were trapped in the cellar, or if, like him, her feelings ran much deeper. They both knew this was probably all they would ever have. He thrust away the ridiculous justifications and lowered her to the mattress. Her fingers dug into his shoulders, urging him closer. Mesmerized by the sweetness of her lips, the moist depths of her mouth, and the softness of her body, time seemed to stop. “Don’t be sorry about this,” he murmured, tracing the line of her breastbone with a featherlight fingertip. Then he boldly slipped her silky pajama top from her shoulders. She yanked his shirt off, pausing as she lifted them over his biceps. Then, breathing hard, they shed their clothing in abandon, and when they lay naked beside each other, their passion fired by the strong possibility that their unwanted adventure was likely to end in death, he let go of the guilt and went with his passion. They were two hot, glistening bodies, grasping a last taste of life.

  Lisa’s mouth went dry, anticipating the release of the volatile energy that had been building between them. A quivery sensation rippled through her. She stroked his warm, bare chest. The dim light transformed his body into a silvery silhouette. Her core heated to a shivery liquid as their kisses grew more frantic. Wild with fever, she arched her back and thrust her hips forward, inviting him to love her. Pain shot through her, but she ignored it. For whatever time they had left, she wanted to let go of the worries and fear. Whatever happened later, he had her heart now. She couldn’t stop her moan of ecstasy as he explored the smooth contour of her belly and the moist triangle
of curly hair with his hands, his lips.

  “Please don’t ever regret this,” he murmured. “I couldn’t bear it.”

  “I told you I won’t,” she whispered, believing it with all her heart.

  He eased on top of her and thrust her hands above her head and French kissed her for several mind-numbing seconds. She struggled to pull her hands free. When he released them, she quickly slid them down his muscled chest and around his waist, then lower, and dug her fingers into his hard, unyielding buttocks. His throbbing penis pressed against her lower belly. Her limbs went weak, her core, receptive, quivery. She reached down and caressed his pulsing manhood, fascinated by the hot, throbbing hardness. He moaned and rained kisses over her belly, caressing her as his hand slid between her thighs.

  “I want you now,” she moaned, arching her hips to meet his seeking fingers. She clung to him as he gently entered her and began the slow, rhythmic pace of pulsing passion. With pounding hearts and pumping bodies, they raced for release. She cried out as he brought her to an unrivaled pinnacle. She exploded again and again, shattering into so many pieces that she knew she’d never be the same. When she thought she couldn’t take any more, he convulsed inside her, and together they plunged over the edge into a star-spangled release that left them weak, but still clinging to one another with their last ounce of strength. He carefully rolled off her and they lay side-by-side, trying to catch their breath. After a few seconds, he placed her head on his shoulder, stroked her hair, and she felt herself relaxing.

  Later, her afterglow faded and worry filled its place. With Meta still in danger, there would be little, if any, sleep. She gripped the sheet, feeling helpless. If they lived, she’d have to forgive herself for yielding to her urges with a man who would disappear back to his military life, leaving her brokenhearted. How ironic, this time she knew the risk of dropping her guard, but this might be all she’d ever have. She’d always been able to control her desires, but this was different. It was her last grab at life. And if miraculously they lived, making love to him would be a cherished memory, well worth the pain after he left. Amazing—she still believed in miracles.

  Chapter Eleven

  Afterwards he held her, never wanting to let her go. Making love to her had been like coming home, and that scared him.

  Lisa shifted in his arms and looked up at him with those wide, vulnerable eyes of hers. “I love you, Jay.”

  Her words hit him like ice water thrown in the face. The wistfulness in her voice begged him to say he loved her, too. He had never said those words to a lover, and a good a woman like Lisa needed to hear them, needed the whole commitment—the forever after. But he couldn’t give anything lasting to her. He loved her, no doubt about that. Nevertheless, if they got out of this, he would have to leave her. His job made that an unpleasant fact, and he couldn’t lead her to expect more. He silently kissed the top of her head. Guilt twisted in his gut. He had preyed on her vulnerability, and now they both would have to pay the price. “Lisa, I—”

  She put her finger to his lips. “Don’t say anything, Jay. Don’t you know when a woman is kidding?”

  Lisa hadn’t expected loving someone to hurt this much. She could accept that their fear of no tomorrow had led them to find comfort in one another. But damn him, didn’t he even care enough to give her hope for one night? “Hey,” she said. “Don’t look so glum. I always tell my men that I love them.” She shrugged. “Doesn’t mean a thing.” She struggled to escape his arms and failed.

  “How did you ever make it as a cop or a bodyguard?” he said, tightening his hold.

  She struggled again, tempted to kick him in the shins. Wasn’t it enough that he couldn’t say he loved her—did he have to insult her, too? She glared into his taunting dark eyes. “I don’t know what you’re talking about!”

  “That’s what I mean. You can’t lie worth a nickel. You love me, and I would have to be blind not to know it.”

  “I don’t.” She pushed at him in vain. “Let me go.”

  “Look into my eyes, damn it! Can’t you see it, Lisa? I love you, too. But the way things are, I can’t promise you a damned thing.”

  Before she could fully absorb what he was telling her, he bent and covered her lips with his. His kiss, full of tenderness and regret, made everything clear. If they never got out of this mess, she could die happy. He loved her.

  When he paused for a breath, she whispered, “I never ask for promises.” And she wouldn’t now, but deep in her heart, she knew she’d never wanted them more.

  She eased out of his arms. “Now, let’s figure out how to get out of here so you can live a long life.” She glanced sideways, teasingly. “So you can be forever sorry that you didn’t find a way for us to be together.”

  He shook his head and smiled. “You’ve had a mouth on you from the beginning, Lisa.”

  She curved her fingers and gestured with them. “Come. On your feet. You know you can’t give up, not as long as there is a breath left in you.”

  He stood. “Yeah, right,” he said and started stacking the wooden crates again, testing as he went along, as though arranging them to distribute his weight more evenly.

  She shivered. They were both acting positive, but things didn’t look good for them. She recalled a recent newspaper article, “Doomed Lovers Unearthed In Italy.” Construction crews had discovered the embracing skeletons at a site outside of Mantua, Italy. Archeologists claimed they were a man and woman from the Neolithic period, buried between five and six thousand years ago. When she’d read the article, she thought the facing skulls and skeletal frames curved into an eternal embrace were romantic in a melancholy way. Now, confronted with the possibility of no escape from this potential tomb, she found nothing romantic in the story. If she and Jay failed to find a way out, how many years would pass before their bony remains would be discovered?

  “Look for an axe or crowbar, will you?” Jay said, spurring her into action again.

  As she looked through the myriad of junk, she started feeling a buzz from the wine and realized that her pain had faded. If she ever got out of here, she would have to recommend that Dr. Hendricks prescribe wine and lovemaking therapy for his patients. The combination was a miracle drug. She shook her head. Considering that either they would die down here or he would leave her, she didn’t understand her lightheartedness. Maybe it was because she had never been in love before, and her upbeat nature compelled her to savor it for as long as it lasted. She felt drops of water on her head and laughed.

  “What’s so funny?” Jay asked as he climbed on the crates and tested their strength.

  “Not funny—ironic. If we don’t die of starvation, we might drown. That big pipe is leaking.”

  Jay stopped what he was doing. His eyes brightened, as though a lightbulb had switched on behind them. He jumped off the crate he was standing on and rushed over to her.

  “If I wasn’t already in love with you…” His words trailed away as he kissed her on the mouth. “You’re wonderful!”

  “I know. But you didn’t have to stop what you were doing to tell me that.”

  “Yes, I did!” he said, dancing around her. “The pipes—that’s our way out.”

  “I’ve never seen anyone so pleased about leaky pipes,” she said. Perhaps the wine had gotten to him, too. “You aren’t making any sense.”

  “Yes, yes, I am. I had forgotten the unique thing about this old mansion. Grandpa built it like a ship.”

  “So?” Meta had mentioned that feature to Cornel Drake as if it were a big deal. “So, how does that help us?”

  “The pipes lead to a trapdoor and a passageway that connects throughout the house, and out of this concrete dungeon.” Jay began following the pipes, knocking softly on each section of the wall, listening, then moving on, repeating the process several times.

  Suddenly jazzed with hope, she followed his lead, tapping and knocking.

  “I found it!” he shouted. “We’re going to be okay.” He kissed a small door, ab
out the size of a notebook, as if it were as cherished as a trophy.

  “Hold up a minute,” she said. “Don’t you think it’s odd that the entrance is free of webs and debris?” Ignoring her, and without much effort, he yanked it open. “And, we found this too easily, opened it too easily. What if the killer knows about the passageway? Maybe he’s waiting, toying with us.”

  “Quit being paranoid, Lisa. You think he made the pipe leak to get our attention?”

  “I don’t rule anything out,” she muttered. It did seem like a stretch, but she couldn’t help her fears—staying alive meant more to her now than it ever had in her life. She prayed her worries were unfounded. Yet as Jay moved the crates and helped her climb up and into the passageway, her fear escalated.

  Crawling through cobwebs in a dark, dusty passageway meant only for a plumber was exhausting, but she kept going. As she paused to rest, she felt Jay’s warm breath on her ankle, him gently massaging the tight muscles in her calf. He seemed to know what she needed and gave it willingly, everything but the thing she had come to want most from him—forever. She bit her lip. It was her own fault. She had known from the start that there was no future for them. She shouldn’t have let her guard down or let herself fall in love with him.

  “How’re you doing, Lisa?” Jay whispered huskily.

  “Never better,” she murmured, looking over her shoulder into the blackness, wishing she could see his face.

  He slid his hand higher on her leg and patted her thigh. A tingly warmth spread upward between her legs. “Good,” he said. “Then keep going.”

  Fighting desire, she inched ahead, occasionally slowing almost to a stop to squeeze around rib-jabbing pipes.

  “Grandpa said he’d painted the insides of the trapdoors with fluorescent paint to make the exits easy to find.”

  Lisa saw nothing but blackness. “Good. I hope we find one soon.” She was running out of steam.

  “Hey, Lisa, back up. You passed an exit.”