by Debra Webb
“If the blow hadn’t put him down,” Levi argued, “he might have gotten off a shot.” Taking him down and assuming control of the weapon simultaneously was the right choice for the situation. “What were you doing while I was taking him down?” She could have jumped in any time.
She ignored the question and glanced toward the truck. “The driver’s getting out. We have to run.”
Gunfire erupted. Two, then three shots hit the sand a few feet away.
Levi rushed after Casey who’d already covered some major ground. She’d turned off the flashlight which basically left them running blind but it was way better than providing easy targets.
“We should head in different directions,” she suggested as he moved up next to her in a dead run.
Not a bad idea since the driver was still attempting to hit a target, but Levi wasn’t taking the risk that she would give him the slip. Since she hadn’t jumped in back there he had to assume she had no plans to play partner with him.
More gunfire shattered the silence. He considered stopping and returning fire but that would mean losing pace with Casey. She was after the same thing he was and Levi needed to know why. His boss would want to know as well.
Determined not to lose Casey to an abrupt diversionary tactic, he grabbed her by the arm and held on when she tried to shake him off.
“What’re you doing?”
“Making sure you don’t get away.”
She didn’t waste energy arguing, just kept running.
Keeping pace alongside her, he almost stumbled when the sandy dirt beneath their feet changed to something bouncy. The sound of wood splitting pierced the air
“Wait.” Casey stopped. She turned to him, gave him a shove with her free hand but he wasn’t letting go of her. Before he could regain his balance she went down. Levi lunged forward, dragged by her downward momentum.
His legs dangling into a deep hole in the earth, he held tight on to Casey’s arm with one hand, while he grabbed the nearest cactus scrub with the other. As Casey’s arm started to slip through his grasp, the air stalled in his lungs. His fingers clamped down on her wrist.
Got her.
What the heck had just happened? Casey hung like a rag doll from his grip on her wrist. Splintered wood jabbed at his chest. His entire being shook with the effort of clutching this clump of flora. They’d fallen into a…mine shaft, that’s what happened. The weapon he’d confiscated had either gone down the hole or was on the ground somewhere.
A roar blasted through the night. The truck. Levi listened for any other sound. No more gunfire. Apparently, the driver had decided to cut his losses.
“Can you pull me up?” Casey shouted.
He pulled hard on the scrub. Boards creaked. The old shaft had been covered in wooden boards that were now dry rotted, allowing them to collapse beneath his and Casey’s weight. There was nothing reliable to grab besides the scrub. Not that he could have turned loose of the plant anyway. His mind scrambled for a solution.
“Can’t do it.” The admission didn’t come easy but this was no time for vanity. His right shoulder was feeling the burden of hanging on to her in this awkward position. He tuned out the ache. Didn’t matter if his shoulder ripped out of its socket. He couldn’t let go.
Silence thickened for two, then three beats.
“If you can’t pull us both up, then let me go.”
“Are you nuts?” He wasn’t letting go as long as he was able to hold on. No way.
“If we both fall there won’t be anyone to go for help.” She hesitated a moment. “We don’t know how deep this thing is. I dropped the flashlight so I can’t check it out. At any rate, there’s a big possibility that we’ll be injured in the fall. The best way out of this is for you to let go of me and head back to town for help.”
She was crazy. He tightened his grip on her wrist. “Not happening, lady.” He gritted his teeth against the strain ripping through his shoulder.
“This isn’t the time to be a hero, Stark. Let me go and get help. We’re both screwed if you don’t.”
Levi closed his eyes and tried with all his might to pull his torso up onto the ground. An inch forward, two back. Damn it! He growled in frustration.
She twisted her arm in an attempt to loosen his grip. “I said let go.”
“No way,” he roared. “Just be still and give me time to figure this out.” Despite the cool night air sweat oozed from every pore of his body.
“Wait.”
Levi ordered his respiration to slow so he could hear. His heart pounded so loud in his ears he could hardly hear his own thoughts.
“There’s a ledge. I think I can make it.”
Hope welled in his chest. Thank God.
She moved around. He grimaced at the pain now searing through his shoulder.
“Got it. You can let go now.”
She sounded calm, as if she might even be telling the truth. But she wasn’t. “If that’s true, why aren’t you holding your own weight?” The tug of her weight on his arm hadn’t eased in the slightest. She was lying.
She swore, long and loud. He almost laughed. She wanted to be the hero instead of him. Talk about competitive. Granted she did have a point about going for help…but he wasn’t letting her go.
A weight stamped on his hand—the one desperately grasping the scrub.
Levi’s attention flew upward. The guy he’d put down in a choke hold stood over him, growling in Spanish. Oh hell.
“What’s going on?” Casey demanded.
Levi couldn’t answer. And he couldn’t fight the guy without letting go of something. The only thing he could do was ignore the pain of each booted stamp on his hand and arm.
And hang on.
The SOB grabbed Levi’s wrist with both hands and pulled to loosen his grip on the clump of scrub. “Die, gringos!” he screamed.
Don’t let go. Levi focused on clamping harder even as his fingers were ripped from their desperate hold. Levi clutched at the bastard’s leg.
The bastard twisted free.
Levi grappled at the sand…at the splintered wood…
Until his fingers closed on air.
Chapter Four
Chicago, 10:50 p.m.
Victoria Colby-Camp put her toothbrush away and studied her reflection. She’d taken her hair down from the French twist she wore every day. It hung well past her shoulders. The silver streaks had multiplied quickly these past few years. Her dark eyes remained clear. She had stayed fit and, frankly, she didn’t look so old. But sometimes she had to admit how very tired she felt.
The attack in Pozos on top of the abduction just a few months ago weighed heavily on her. Was it past time she and Lucas retired completely? She worried as much for her husband as for herself. Certainly her son Jim could run the Colby Agency without her at his side. Lucas was there more to be near Victoria than anything else.
Why not let Jim take the helm? She and Lucas could spend more time with their grandchildren. They could certainly do more traveling. Perhaps if she and Lucas put more distance between them and the business of investigations they could finally escape the sometimes dangerous and always unpredictable world in which they had both undeniably thrived for decades.
The idea scared Victoria just a little. Nearly thirty years of running the Colby Agency had for the most part been her life, particularly during those years while her son was missing and following her first husband’s death. Did she really know anything else? She took a breath and steadied herself. Far more terrifying tasks had been conquered in the past. Besides, retirement was no enemy to her or her husband.
Emotion crowded her chest. Still, could she really leave Chicago? That was the only way to really distance herself from the business. Goose bumps spread over her skin like prickly reminders of all the emotion that would accompany such a decision.
Victoria pushed away the troubling thoughts and padded from the en suite to join her husband in bed. He tossed the newspaper aside and tucked his reading glasses
on the bedside table.
Lucas saved the newspaper and the books he enjoyed for bedtime. That was the only time one would catch the man wearing a pair of reading glasses. Victoria had to smile, her insides softening with affection. Her husband was one of a kind. She wasn’t so sure they made men like him anymore.
Drawing back the covers, Lucas welcomed her into their bed. He pulled her close and she snuggled into her special place next to him. Their bodies fit together perfectly. This was where she belonged.
Wherever they lived, whatever they did, that would never change.
Chapter Five
Mexico
Casey groaned. She reached up to touch her aching head. What the heck happened?
“Don’t move.”
Stark. At least they were both alive. It was dark. Pitch-black dark. The memory came back. They’d fallen into a mine shaft. Casey cautiously felt for the wall of rock that likely surrounded them, but hit nothing but air. Adrenaline sparked in her chest. They couldn’t have hit bottom and survived. Impossible. Besides, hadn’t all these old shafts flooded decades ago? She’d read that in her research. Surviving a fall into one of the mine shafts in the area was highly improbable.
“I think we’re on some sort of platform.”
At least Stark had fallen beside her. “Not possible.” He had to be mistaken. Still, if not a platform, what had broken their fall? “These old mine shafts are hundreds of feet deep and there are no ledges or platforms. The miners were hoisted up and down.” She tried to remember if she had seen anything besides sandy dirt and scrub before falling. Nothing came to mind. The rush to escape their captor had happened too fast.
Her fingers tightened into balls of frustration. The urge to move—to investigate her surroundings—was almost overwhelming. But she wanted to stay alive more. Due consideration was needed before taking any action.
“We fell maybe eight or ten feet,” Stark said. “Not that far but whatever we hit isn’t stable.”
She’d been too busy trying to grab on to something to notice. Admittedly she was still a little shaky from the blow to her head. Good thing Stark had been paying attention. That said, the scenario of their landing didn’t add up.
“If you’re correct in your calculations, we can’t be in a shaft unless…” Holy-moly. Unless some environmentally challenged imbecile had used this shaft for dumping and part of the junk tossed inside had gotten wedged at this point. Her heart stumbled. If whatever had stopped their fall moved… Stark had said it was unstable. Unstable meant movement. Her heart quickened its pace.
“You should’ve let go of me when I told you to,” she complained. Now look at the quandary they were in. This temporary reprieve was just that—temporary. Better to die hard and fast than to be forced to contemplate it for a few minutes.
“That’s right,” he grumped back at her. “This is definitely all my fault. It had nothing to do with the nimrod dancing on my hand. If you’ll recall, I was managing to hang on until he showed up.”
“Timing, Stark. You should have dropped me minutes before that and you would’ve had ample time to climb out and crack the guy’s skull.” She was right. He was wrong. Enough said about that. Of course if this ledge or garbage or whatever hadn’t broken her fall she would be dead anyway. At least with one of them above ground their odds of getting out of this mess would have greatly increased. That was strategic thinking. Now they were both screwed. If this chunk of whatever moved and falling hundreds of feet didn’t get them, the arsenic and lead-laced water surely would.
Her uncle would not be happy. Lucas wouldn’t be either.
“Let’s say this isn’t one of those deep mine shafts,” Stark suggested with admirable optimism. “We could, presumably, move around without that much risk.”
Big fat if. There was no way to be certain except to give it a test. Casey reached out again, this time daring to lift her upper body from whatever they were lying on. She stretched until her fingers hit a wall. She scraped at it, then rubbed the tips together.
Dirt.
The three hundred or so mine shafts in the area had walls of stone. She’d done thorough research on the area. Evidently Stark had not. Anticipation forced her heart to pump harder. The dirt was a good sign. “You could be right.” It was a gamble but they couldn’t just lounge here as if they were dead already.
Something scurried across her leg. Casey clamped her jaws shut to hold back the instinctive squeal.
Rats.
An epiphany dawned and a smile tugged at her lips. Even rats needed to climb out of their holes from time to time. How far up or down did rats crawl? Another question contradicting their positive analysis of the situation zinged her. If they were only eight or ten feet down, lying atop a garbage heap, why couldn’t she see the stars above them?
Her smile resurrected and widened to a grin. They’d fallen hard and fast, then the momentum had slowed because the opening had narrowed as they slid along at an angle until they hit this ledge or whatever. She touched her chin where it had scrubbed the dirt. Oh yeah, she remembered now. She’d been a little rattled after the fall, but she was on her mental toes now.
Casey scooted forward a bit and reached above her head. The heap beneath her groaned and stirred.
“Whoa. What’re you doing?” Stark grabbed her arm. “Take it easy.”
“Climbing out.” Ignoring him and the way his touch sent a streak of electricity along her skin, she cautiously moved up onto her hands and knees. The mound beneath her shifted slightly a second time. She froze.
Stark froze, too. He didn’t even yell at her, though he definitely muttered something unintelligible.
When Casey’s pulse rate slowed to a more reasonable level, she started again. One hand forward, then one knee. Repeat. Pausing after each repeat to check the area in front of her as best she could in the dark, she slowly but surely moved beyond the slight angle that had blocked her view of the sky.
Stars spread across the inky night sky like silver rhinestones on a black satin dress. “You were right,” she called over her shoulder. “We’re down about eight feet, maybe a little more.” Still taking care, she eased into a standing position. The opening of the hole was another four or five feet above her head. Not close enough.
Stark moved up beside her. “Feels pretty steady here.”
Nothing had shifted since the initial movements. A few minutes more of that good fortune and they could be out of here. She turned to Stark. “You think you can hold my weight?”
He turned his face toward hers. She couldn’t read his eyes with nothing more than the starlight. “I think I’ve already established that.”
“I guess you did.” She scooted behind him and grabbed his shoulders with both hands. She felt his muscles bunch beneath her touch. Understandable. She ached all over. She imagined he did as well. Couldn’t have anything to do with that crazy mingling of heat she experienced whenever they touched.
Casey took a breath and plunged upward, scaling his backside like a monkey. “Don’t look up,” she warned as she settled first one foot, then the other on his shoulders. She thanked God for the wide-bottomed, swishy skirt which made maneuvering a whole lot easier. So long as he didn’t look up and get an eyeful of her half-naked bottom. Skimpy undies could be a nuisance at times.
She rose to her full height and her head and shoulders broke into the night air. Freedom. She scanned the terrain, then listened for a full ten seconds. Clear. No guys wearing sweatshirts. No truck and no gunfire. Now all she needed was something to grab on to. Casey scratched at the ground beyond the boards, but she couldn’t reach anything that would give her the necessary leverage.
“Can you push me a little higher?” Just a few more inches would do it.
His right hand touched her heel. Holding on to the edges of the boards, she lifted that foot so his palm and fingers could cradle it. The left was trickier. She swayed, but Stark steadied her as he lifted her.
And she was out of the hole up to her thigh
s.
She grabbed two handfuls of scrub and directed all her energy into hauling her lower body up. Her skirt caught on the splintered boards; she yanked it loose, ripping the delicate fabric at the hem.
Casey scrambled onto all fours, pressed her cheek to the ground and gave silent thanks. She did a one-eighty and peered down at Stark. “I made it.”
“I never had a doubt.”
He sounded chipper enough but he had to be wondering what she would do next. Man oh man, his head was a good four or five feet below her reach. Even with him extending his arms as far as possible she wouldn’t be able to get a hold on him. Not to mention she would need leverage up here to give him any assistance. Hanging her upper body over the edge wouldn’t work.
“You still have that tire iron?” The surrounding area appeared to be clear at the moment, but trouble could step from behind one of the ruins at any time. A weapon might come in handy. She’d dropped the switchblade along with the flashlight.
“Here you go.”
The tire iron appeared in front of her. She stretched down into the hole as far as she dared and grabbed the tip of it. Placing it close by just in case, she shifted her attention back to Stark and how the heck she was going to help him. The hole was too wide for him to use his arms or his legs against the side walls to climb upward.
“Take off your belt.” It might not be long enough but it could work. She had to try all options.
The hiss of leather against cotton signaled he was complying with her request. She shivered. It was cold. Not to mention her adrenaline had run rampant and it was now receding. Shivers were to be expected.
Stark tossed the belt upward; she snagged it on the first attempt. After looping it around her wrist, she pushed the tail end through the buckle, then pulled it tight.
Casey dangled the end down to him and braced herself. “Let’s give it a try.”
“You won’t be able to handle my weight.” All traces of optimism had vanished.
“We won’t know until we try.” Truth was, she wasn’t all that optimistic herself. Her arm and head were over the edge. She was strong but not nearly that strong. Still, she had to try.