Family Secrets: Books 5-8

by Virginia Kantra

  A familiar pang sliced through her. She couldnt do anything about the farmhouses lack of children. But she could certainly supply flowers.

  She could take a short walk. They were safe here. No one knew where she was. Marcus certainly hadnt hesitated to leave her alone. Still, she dithered over her note. The text was easy enough. Dont worry. Taking a walk. Back soon. Informative and to the point. And not spineless or sappy or besotted or any of the things she felt inside.

  But then she had to sign the darn thing, and all her diplomatic training failed her. Sincerely yours was the correct social closing for everyone from the president of the United States to a Methodist bishop. Yours sincerely covered most of the peerage. But how did you sign a note to the Navy SEAL youd spent the previous night with?

  Sincerely? Hardly.

  Cordially? She nibbled her pen. She did feel cordialthe dictionary defined the word as warm, sincere, friendly, ferventbut it still sounded far too formal for a morning-after note.

  Love? Her stomach flipped. Her hand smoothing the paper trembled.

  In the end, she simply signed her name in neat, elegant script and hoped he wouldnt read too much between the lines.

  The farmyard was studded with the fuzzy heads of clover and dandelions, but Samantha was looking for more than a jam jar arrangement. There were daylilies blooming in a ditch. Daisies and Queen Annes lace bordered the meadow. And didnt she remember honeysuckle growing near the well house door?

  The well house. She hesitated at the top of the narrow dirt track. Was Marcus there? Testing the water or something?

  She started down the path, drawn by the memory of flowers and the hope of finding him. She was no country girl, but she recognized the cardinal that flashed under the trees, noted the pair of gray squirrels chasing each other through last years leaves. The air was rich with flora and drifting pollen. She was smiling when she reached the well house.

  And stopped. The door was ajar.

  Samantha shook her head, amused at herself. Of course the door would be open if Marcus was down here working on something.

  She took a few steps forward. Marcus?

  No reply. The pump clanked and chugged. He probably couldnt hear.

  She put her hand on the weathered door and pushed. It didnt budge. The bottom was stuck tight. Shifting her flowers to the crook of her armthe Queen Annes lace tickled her jawshe laid both palms flat against the door and pushed hard.

  It flew open. She flew in. Her foot reached for the solid plank at the entrance, but it was gone. She flung out her arms to catch herself before she smacked her face on the concrete slab that covered the well hole.

  Nothing.

  Her hands encountered nothing. The well cap was gone.

  She pitched forward helplessly before her outstretched arms smacked the opposite side and her body slammed into the edge. The impact shuddered through her. Her bent legs slid into the hole. Her knees knocked the side where she clung. She hung suspended. Disbelieving. Winded.

  Her mind whirled. Her heart went cold. Because she knew, as her fingers clawed at the slick, packed surface, as her nails broke and her body began its slow, inevitable slide, that she couldnt stop it. She didnt have the strength to hold on. She didnt have a thing to hold on to.

  Marcus!

  Pebbles and dirt loosened by her scrabbling fingers rained over her face. Her body slid another inch before gravity pulled her into the well. Like a roller coaster car plunging into a tunnel, she jarred and rattled down in the dark. Thump. Thud. Bounce. Crash.

  She cried out. And then the freezing water closed over her head, and a shattering pain in her ankles ended her fall.

  Above her in the open doorway, the fallen flowers lay scattered in the sunshine like an offering from Persephone.

  Eleven

  T he back door was unlocked.

  Marcus stared stupidly at the key sticking from the lock. Hed just locked it. Which meant the door was unlocked before. Which meant that when hed left this morning, when he thought hed locked the door, he hadnt. He could have sworn he did, but with all the mistakes hed been making lately, who knew?

  Or Samantha could have unlocked it after he left.

  Or somebody else did.

  His blood ran cold. Panic time.

  Dont panic.

  He unholstered his gun and let himself into the house. She wasnt in the kitchen. He inhaled. Okay. Then she was upstairs. She was sleeping safely upstairs in their bed.

  He took the steps two at a time, jerked to a halt before he barged into the bedroom.

  Easy, moron. Dont scare her.

  His heart pounding, he eased around the door frame, hoping, praying, hed find her still in bed, her round shoulders rising above the sheets, her dark red hair spread over the faded pillowcase.

  But the bed was empty. She wasnt in the room. She wasnt in the bathroom, either.

  His gut knotted. He wanted to hit something. He wanted to swear. He checked the window for signs of forced entry and the room for signs of struggle. Nothing. Nada. Zip.

  He went back downstairs.

  He had four ripe peaches tied into the bottom of his shirt. Hed gone out this morning to the old orchard behind the barn, hoping to find something to tempt Samanthas appetite. A smoother man would have picked her flowers. A smarter man would never have left her alone.

  Marcus paused in the kitchen to unload the fruit. He couldnt hunt a potential kidnapper with peaches bouncing at his waist. He set them on the kitchen table, four red-and-yellow fuzzy peaches, only slightly squashed, and thats when he saw it. The note. Propped against the sugarbowl.

  Dont worry. Taking a walk. Back soon.

  Samantha

  His breath exploded in relief. Dont worry? Hed just lost ten years off his life.

  Taking a walk where? Along the trail? Down to the farm pond? Where was she, damn it?

  And how soon was soon?

  Samantha gasped from shock and cold. She was lucky. She wasnt dead. She hadnt drowned.

  But she just might freeze to death.

  Shed been too stunned and disoriented to brace herself agaist the sides as she fell. But her very ineffectiveness had probably saved her from breaking a bone. The few feet of icy water at the bottom of the well had saved her life.

  But, oh, it was cold. She was cold. She was shaking with it, with cold and reaction and fear. She wrapped her arms around her own body, trying to trap in heat. Think positively, she ordered herself.

  At least she wouldnt need ice packs for the bruises she was sure were forming under the water. It came to her armpits, deep enough to cushion her fall and shallow enough that she could stand. Two more positives.

  Now all she needed was a way out.

  Her chest constricted, making breathing difficult.

  Hello? Help! Hello?

  Her voice echoed from the walls. It sounded loud to her ears, but she was dismally aware that there was no one near to hear her.

  It was black at the bottom of the well. But she could see the lip of the well, a dim circle of be
aten earth, shadowed by the displaced slab and the squat metal pump. A pipe ran down the side.

  A pipe. Hope trickled through her. Could she climb up?

  She unfolded her arms. The cold pierced her chest. Her fingers were numb. Her hands were shaking. But she made herself fumble blindly along the slippery, dank walls until she brushed and siezed on cold, hard metal.

  Her fingers explored it in the dark. It wasnt very thick, less than an inch in diameter. Could it possibly hold her weight if she climbed? Did she even have the strength to try? She tugged, testing it. No.

  She looked up again. The opening was several times her height above her head. Twenty feet? Thirty? Her heart quailed.

  Hello? she called again, her voice quavering in the dark. Help me!

  But there was no reply.

  Where was Marcus?

  Where the hell was she?

  Marcus had waited five full frustrating minutes already. Soon, shed said, and there was no point in launching a thorough recon of forty-eight acres if at any moment she was going to stroll through the door.

  But she didnt. Five more minutes spent pacing the linoleum like a neurotic Doberman and hed had enough.

  He grabbed her note and scrawled at the bottom, Out looking for you. Stay put. And then, because that sounded as terse and pissed off as he felt, and she hadnt really done anything more boneheaded than go for a walkwithout protection, God, what was she thinkinghe signed it. Love, M.

  He slammed the door and went to find her.

  She had to keep moving.

  Pain stabbed her ankles. She couldnt feel her feet at all. But Samantha knew she had to keep the blood flowing to her fingers and toes, had to keep her body temperature up.

  She tried bobbing up and down. That was bad. Her knees protested and her breath escaped in little sobs. So she walked in tiny circles and flapped her arms, like a chicken trying to fly. And she yelled for help. For Marcus.

  But no help came.

  Marcus never answered.

  Tears burned her eyes and escaped down her cheeksa stupid waste of body heat. Dont be a baby, she told herself, and cleared her sore throat and called again.

  She imagined her breath hanging over the icy water in a vaporous cloud like a ghost. Which was ridiculous. She didnt believe in ghosts, and anyway, it wasnt that cold.

  But, oh, it felt it. Pinchingly cold. Crampingly cold. Achingly cold. She found herself drawing in her body, pulling in her stomach, as if she could hold herself away from the water.

  To distract herself, she looked up at the circle of light and the jutting curve of the concrete well cover. She pressed her trembling lips together. She was lucky she hadnt cracked her head when shed slipped.

  She rubbed her arms briskly, which didnt do any good, and attempted to wiggle her frozen toes. Although if she were really lucky she would never have fallen in the first place. The concrete slab would have been over the well where it belonged, and she would be back at the farmhouse with Marcus, where she belonged.

  A thought disturbed her mind like a dropped pebble, sending out ripples of disquiet.

  Why wasnt the cover over the well?

  Shed watched Marcus move it into place herself, his well-defined muscles flexing under his plain white T-shirt. Shed never known, couldnt imagine, another man who could lift that solid slab by himself so easily.

  No other man

  The phrase shivered through her, chilling as the water, disturbing as the thought of what might lie beneath the surface.

  No other man. Who besides Marcus had the strength to remove the well cap? Who else had the opportunity?

  Samantha? Sam! Where are you?

  It was Marcus. And her suspicions evaporated. Even with the distortion of the well shaft and the water, he sounded scared. And really annoyed. He sounded as if he cared.

  But it wasnt his emotions that convinced her. It was her own. It was the way her heart turned to the sound of his voice like a sunflower to the sun.

  D-down here! she yelled.

  She heard muffled swearing, which for some reason made her want to giggle. And then the dark outline of his head appeared in the circle of light.

  Are you all right?

  All right was a relative term. She was certainly better. Marcus had come for her. And the internal glow produced by his presence, while it didnt actually warm her, certainly cheered her up.

  F-fine, she called.

  More of his body blocked the opening. Even though she was really, really glad to see him, Samantha shuddered, her own body instinctively protesting the loss of light.

  How the hell did you get down there?

  F-fell, she said, her teeth chattering. She wrapped her arms more closely around her chest to hold in the last of her body heat.

  No, I meant His legs swung around. His big booted feet dropped down. Her heart jumped in her throat. What did he think he was doing? Howd you get the cover off?

  I d-didnt, she protested. It was off. Shouldnt you g-get a rope?

  And leave you alone? She saw him shake his head before he lowered himself into the mouth of the shaft. Naw. I dont think so.

  He was climbing down. Unsupported, unprotected, bracing his hands and feet against the slick earthen sides of the shaft.

  Fear made her tone sharp. Better me alone than you with a b-broken neck and b-both of us at the bottom.

  Babe, relax. His muffled voice was perfectly calm. I know what Im doing.

  Its too f-far.

  Thirty-two feet, he told her cheerfully. Piece of cake.

  He was spread-eagled, his body spanning the width of the well. She flinched as something dislodged from the wall and struck the surface of the water.

  Marcus stopped instantly, suspended in the darkness over her head. You okay?

  She nodded, forgetting he couldnt see. But a moment later she heard the scrape of his boots as he resumed his climb down the shaft.

  I have pretty good night vision, hed told her their first night at the farmhouse, and apparently he hadnt lied.

  Not about that.

  She heard him above her, breathing. Another stone plopped into the water.

  She shrank back, her shoulder blades brushing the icy wall behind her.

  Thats good, he said. Hold still.

  Something swung in the dank air before her face. The cold water surged around her breasts. She heard his boots crunch on the pebbled bottom, and then he was there, real and warm and solid, wedged into the well beside her.

  He pulled her close. She leaned on him, absorbing the heat and reassurance that rolled off him in waves. For a minute he held her, held her tight, his chin pressed to her hair.

  Nothing broken? he asked.

  She shook her head against his chest. She was shaking all over.

  Okay, heres what were going to do, he said conversationally. Youre going to put your arms around my neck, and Im going to climb out of here.

  Her heart plummeted. He couldnt possibly neogiate these wet, hazardous walls t
wice. Maybe he had made it down. But to go up this slippery, verticle pit, pulling his own weight, carrying hersHe couldnt do it. No man could.

  T-too risky, she said. Youre not S

  No Superman cracks, he warned.

  She clenched her jaw enough to answer. Spider-Man.

  He laughed, and even though she was scared and sore and freezing, his laughter made her feel fractionally better. Hopeful. Guess well see. Come on, honey, hold on.

  She was almost too cold to lift her arms. But she got them around his neck and lifted a leg to straddle his thigh.

  She was numb below the waist. But the awkwardness of the position made her ask, Shouldnt I be on your back?

  Nope. He managed to unbuckle his belt underwater. He looped it through hers and fastened it again in a makeshift safety harness. I might brace my back against the wall. I dont want to scrape you off.

  She shuddered. Definitely not.

  Im going to need both arms, he said, sounding apologetic, as if she might actually expect him to climb a 32-foot well shaft one-handed. So you have to hold on tight, okay?

  Hold on? Her heart lurched. All the way up?

  What if I let g-go?

  Then Ill catch you, he said patiently. Ill be under you in the shaft. You wont fall.

  How could he be sure?

  Trust me? he asked.

  The remarkable thing was that she did. She was a diplomat. She was trained not to trust anyone. And yet even after shed been kidnapped and shot at and trapped down a well, she trusted Marcus. After he got them both out of here, she was going to have to ask herself why.

  She nodded once in answer.