by Lucy Farago
“You okay?” Gone was the militant man who’d forced her to move when all she’d wanted to do was curl up into a ball and weep.
Freezing, but she wasn’t going to complain. “So far.”
Then Monty sat on his heels and turned his back to her. Before she could ask what he was doing, a soft squeak made her flinch. Mice? It was too dark to see, but she reasoned the sound was too loud to have come from the furry little beasts.
“You claustrophobic?” he asked, stemming her panic before she made a fool of herself.
“No.” Why she’d lied, she didn’t know. “But you won’t catch me cave diving. Why?”
“Then maybe you should go first.” He scooted over. “That way you can’t turn around.”
“Go first?” Her eyes finally adjusted, and she saw where the noise had come from. In front of them was a hole, big enough to crawl through and too spooky to see what was on the other side. “You want me to go in there?” Was he kidding? Please let him be kidding. Panic began to bloom low in her gut. Soon it would constrict her lungs and she wouldn’t be able to breathe.
“I’ll be right behind you,” he said a little too impatiently. “There’s a drop up ahead, but a motion sensor will trigger the battery lights when you reach the end.” He changed his tone to reassure her. “You won’t fall.”
“Fall?” she repeated, doing her best and admittedly failing not to sound like a coward. Anything smaller than an elevator she stayed away from. Even small planes made her jumpy.
“Trust me.”
Stay here and risk being found by Daniel and his men or make like Alice and scurry into the dark—air sucking—rabbit hole? Her life was becoming a billboard for children’s fiction. She stuck her head inside the black pit of despair. There was no breeze, no warmth, nothing but space—black, eerie, icy space. If she could sleep alone in a dark forest, she could do this. After several deep breaths, slow and steady, she began to crawl.
Inside, she touched the smooth walls and discovered she was in some kind of pipe, big enough for a large man; nowhere tall enough to stand in but still far too small for her. Inching forward, she counted each step, because singing her cares away would make her look foolish…and crazy. The hatch being closed made every joint in her body lock. “Monty?” she squeaked.
“Right behind you. Keep going.”
Easy for him to say. His heart hadn’t just stopped.
Ten paces too many, a light flickered on. She momentarily shut her eyes against the brightness, then edged forward.
“It’s not a large drop. You can turn around and go feet first if you want.”
Feet first, head first, what she wanted was out. But he was right. The pipe opened into a room about the size of an elevator. Could be worse, she thought. And unless she was mistaken, this was a mine shaft, with timbers shoring up dirt walls. She swung her feet and gratefully landed the short drop to the plank floor, mercifully out of that death tube. She hugged herself against the icy cold and the smell of rich earth, for an uncomfortable flash seeing herself buried alive. “What is this place?” And how did he know it was here?
Monty joined her but, per usual, said nothing except, “Follow me.” She was beginning to rethink her computer-nerd theory and leaned more toward the military.
The shaft morphed into gray concrete walls echoing dripping water in the distance. A few more feet and they passed a padlocked door. This was no mine shaft. Exactly what kind of hole had the white rabbit led her down? Overhead, lights kicked in as they made their way down the tunnel before stopping at another door. Monty reached for the knob and opened it with a resonating click. Light from the corridor did little to the dark room. He entered and she followed, too nervous to do anything else.
“Wait here until I find the battery-operated lanterns.”
Fine with her. But was he a cat? How could he see where he was going?
She heard the rattle of metal and, a few seconds later, Monty emerged with a glowing lantern in his hand, giving her the first look at Wonderland.
“Here.” He handed it to her.
She took it wordlessly because if her mouth could work, she wasn’t sure what she would say. Rabbit hole? She thought not. This was more military than gold mine. One side of the room held a shelf like desk and on it were two computers and a printer. Above them and hanging on the wall were two screens and in the far-right upper corner was a camera. The opposite wall was less wall, more glass cabinet. Her mouth fell open when she realized what it contained. An arsenal of guns, enough for a small army. Too disturbed to consider what she’d stepped into, she focused on the last wall, oddly empty. “Where are we?”
“All you need to know is that you’re safe. At least for the time being. We can stay here until your friends vacate the cabin.”
“They’re not my friends.”
“How would I know? You’ve done nothing but lie to me since we met.”
“Really?” she said, pointing to the computers. “You’re not exactly who you said you were either”
“I never told you anything other than my name. You?”
He had a point, and getting defensive with a man who’d saved her life was neither nice nor productive. “Daniel isn’t my boyfriend.”
“No shit,” he said, predictably heavy on the sarcasm.
“But he did kidnap me.”
“Why?”
“I’m not really sure.” She tucked her free hand inside the sleeves of her coat. Even wet, it was better than nothing. They might be safe, but this place was far colder than outside, with nothing to keep the damp chill away.
“You’re cold. And wet again. Let’s get warmed up.”
She glanced around the sterile room, wondering what she’d missed. Get warm? How?
He walked over to the empty wall and she watched as he slid open a pocket door she hadn’t known was there. The wall split in two. “We can finish our conversation in here.”
Shit, had she thought her life was children’s literature? More like James Bond.
Chapter 4
As long as the last team member hadn’t moved anything, he’d be okay to retrieve the other lanterns without breaking his neck in the dark. Normally, everything would be powered by military generators, vented through a hidden hole in the side of the mountain. The underground caverns had stores of fuel, as did the room beneath the cabin. But his team had stolen key components to those generators and all he had was the panic button he now couldn’t get too.
After realizing the man who’d been shooting at them wasn’t the same one who’d come looking for her, he’d debated if it was prudent to bring Taylor to one of their secret bases. Then, when he’d doubled back and seen the hunting party they’d sent after her, he’d had no choice. Whatever she’d done to piss these people off, they’d come fully armed to find her.
He headed to the small kitchen and in the dim light easily found the other lanterns under the sink. He grabbed two more. Taylor still stood, mouth ajar in the open doorway to the control room. “Are you coming in?”
She glanced over her shoulder at the lifeless computers. Leaving would be foolish. But given she’d snuck out of the cabin to find a lipstick… Give him a hard drive to build, a matrix to figure out, and he was cool with that. Ask him how the female brain worked and he was one lost puppy. Wisely, she stepped inside. As she took in the underground facility, he left one lantern on the counter and placed the other on the coffee table in front of the sofa. The room lit up in a soft glow.
“Are you special ops? Or a spy or something?”
“Something.” He had no choice in bringing her here, but that didn’t mean he’d tell her anything about ICU. He’d fucked his team once and he wouldn’t do it again. To do the jobs they were hired for, the ones the public had no clue about, they functioned on a need-to-know rule. And she needed to know nothing. If he told her who he worked for, she’d want a
n explanation as to why a private eye agency had a secret bunker in Alaska. “You’re safe. That’s all that counts.” He headed to the gas fireplace and opened the metal panel below to turn on the pilot light. Then he stood and flicked the switch on the wall. Flames erupted amid the ceramic logs and the cold glass quickly fogged from the sudden heat.
“Look, it’s not that I’m not grateful. I am. But people are trying to kill me. I was taken from my home, drugged, and flown to some remote area. The plane crashed. I spent two days—alone—on a mountain. I was sick and, more importantly, shot at. Excuse me for wanting to have some control over my damn life. Is that too much to ask?” she said, relatively calmer than someone might expect.
If he didn’t have a responsibility to Ryan and the rest of the team, her questions would be valid. His boss had, none too gently, pointed out that he worked on a team, and if his island didn’t sink soon, they were going to sink it for him. It was his way of reminding Monty he was not alone, whether he liked it or not. Monty had made a commitment when he’d signed up, and the shitheads were all he had. The annoying fucks were more family to him than his own, and he’d nearly gotten them killed. But he understood her wanting some control over her life.
“We’re inside an abandoned gold mine. It was converted by the army into secret bunkers during the Cold War, and then again into what you see here.” Ryan footing the bill. “The hole we crawled through used to be bigger. It looks like natural stone, but it’s man-made, to hide the entrance. Then it was camouflaged by those trees outside.”
“Oh. I saw another door in the tunnel. There’s another room?”
“Yes.” Some tunnels were hidden, vast and mazelike. Unless you knew where you were going, finding a way in didn’t mean you’d find a way out.
“There are more tunnels?” she asked. “Is this a top-secret facility? Do you work for the government?”
“On occasion.” And not directly. Even if he wanted to tell her he worked for ICU, she’d want to know why they had access to these old government facilities, facilities no one was supposed to know about. He may not have had a choice in bringing her here, but that didn’t mean he’d trust her with government secrets. She hadn’t exactly been forthcoming or honest with him.
“Are you going to fill in any of the blanks?” she asked, far too annoyed for a woman who should be a tad more grateful she wasn’t freezing her ass off or, worse, dead.
“Are you?” Two could play this game.
She shivered. She looked vulnerable and, even though she’d slept for nearly two days, tired. He was an ass. “Let me get you dry clothes. Sweats for now. You can outfit yourself later.”
At her puzzled expression, he said, “Later. Let’s get dry first. I’ll be back.”
Extra clothes were kept in another chamber. He didn’t have to see the expression on her face to know she panicked a little every time he left her alone. So he opted for the sweats kept in the bedrooms instead of returning to the tunnel and stressing her out.
After grabbing what he thought would fit and a couple of towels, he found her kneeling on the area rug, trying to warm up by the fire. “Stay here and change,” he said. “It’s warmer. I’ll take the bedroom.”
She nodded and accepted the dry clothes. “Thank you.”
He smiled; not that it would ease the fear she tried to hide from him, but what else could he do? “Hurry. Your lips are turning blue.”
“That’s not the only thing turning blue,” she said on a shaky laugh.
He took his time changing out of his wet clothes, wanting to make sure he wouldn’t walk in on her half-dressed. His mother hadn’t taught him much, but she’d made sure he understood how to treat a lady. She figured teaching her son manners would make her more socially accepted. What a joke.
Taylor remained huddled near the gas flames. The coffee table doubled as storage. He removed the lantern he’d put there, opened the lid, found the softest blanket, and covered her with it. Then he stepped back and leaned on the paneled wall, better to watch her. She smiled her thanks. He forced himself to ignore the really stupid things it did to his gut.
“The place usually runs on generators,” he explained. “We don’t have any. But we do have plenty of gas and supplies to wait out that posse looking for you. But I need to know everything. I can’t stay down here forever. And when my friends show up, I won’t have them being ambushed.” Daniel and his crew had come prepared for a hunt rather than a search.
She pulled the blanket he’d given her tightly around herself. “I don’t know who they are. I assume they have something to do with what I found on my computers. I’m a matchmaker.”
“You run a dating service.” That’s what he’d assumed when he’d read her card. She found you the perfect mate with bullshit algorithms.
“Yes…but more. Have you tried online dating?”
His ego was a tad insulted that she might think he’d need to, but he told himself not to take it personally. Online dating seemed to be the way of the future. Yet another thing people needed someone else to do for them. “No,” he said, refusing to be offended.
She rolled her eyes. “It’s not just about looks, you know. It’s more about lack of opportunity. People pass a certain age, or their jobs don’t allow for meeting new people. How do you meet women?”
“Is that a rhetorical question?” Because he didn’t want to answer. The last girl he’d dated—the girl he’d dated seriously—was dead. She’d chosen her military career over him and hadn’t lived long enough to regret it. But he had. She’d died a hero. He went on thinking if he’d only been good enough for her, or less needy, maybe she wouldn’t have volunteered for that second deployment.
“I offer something for everyone,” Taylor explained. “Some prefer to pick their own dates. Then, there are those who want to narrow the playing field, so to speak. Their profile sheets are far more extensive, and they can select to work one-on-one with one of my staff members to find that compatible mate. And then there are those who want the personal touch. Me.”
“What’s the difference between option two and you?” They sounded the same to him.
“Except for basic information, I don’t use computer data to help me select. I study my clients, what they like and don’t like, and I find them someone I think they can build a relationship with.”
“Isn’t that counterproductive. I mean, learning about your clients takes time and maybe some trial and error. That’s dating.” He shifted his weight to his other leg. “Don’t your clients want it fast, and now?” It was the way of the world.
“You’ve described a one-night stand,” she said, impressing him with the same look he used on the guys when they questioned his brilliance. “Those who want to work directly with me understand love doesn’t happen overnight, or rarely happens overnight. I insist they go on several dates before settling on one person. It’s…” She paused, searching for the right words.
He debated telling her his IQ could handle whatever she could throw at him, but she wasn’t an employee of ICU, nor did she know what he did day in, day out.
“It’s not unlike a great dress,” she continued. “It might look good on the hanger, but try it on and it’s not you. And vice versa. And sometimes people don’t know what they want. The little black dress is a good option, but it could be they’re intimidated by the gold sequins.”
“And you shove them in the gold sequins?” He wouldn’t trust his friends to pick him up a pizza, never mind a stranger choosing his woman. “Are you warm enough? I can crank up the flame.” He nodded toward the fireplace.
“That would be nice, thank you. And I try to put them with someone they’re really looking for. That’s the beauty of it. Some want the decision to be taken out of their hands. They’re afraid to step out of the box and need that shove.”
“And there you go again with the shoving.” But in all honesty, he could see how
that would work. He knelt on one knee in front of the fire and again pulled down the metal grate at the bottom.
“Not everyone. Some people know exactly what they want in a mate and simply haven’t found them.”
“That sounds easier.” He found the right knob and turned the flame to high.
“Not always. This is nice.” She indicated the fire with a blanket-covered hand. “Except for that bath, it feels like I haven’t been warm in days.”
“Which brings us to the real matter at hand.” He closed the grate and sat cross-legged across from her.
She stared into the flames a long while before speaking. “I worked hard to make my company a success. There’s a lot of competition, but I built my reputation on my personal service and a high success rate. In the five years since I started Strike a Match, only four of my marriages have ended in divorce. I have a ninety-two percent success rate.”
Taylor was proud of her accomplishments. And while the dating game wasn’t his cup of tea, he understood pride in one’s work. “I take it that’s unheard of?”
“Half of all marriages fail. What do you think? Then, to have these people come along and blow it all to shit…” She scrubbed a hand over her pretty face. “The police have to believe I wasn’t involved. It’ll not only ruin me but I could go to jail.”
“How bad is it?” ICU worked on some fairly dangerous files. He’d been on-site in Russia, where he’d developed a deeper sense of respect for his team when he saw firsthand what they went through. He preferred being the intel expert. Computers didn’t require social skills or finessing, something he sucked at. But he’d been proud to say he’d been hands-on in helping to recover a woman trapped in a human trafficking ring.
“Someone hijacked my website.”
That got his attention. “You mean hacked?”
“No hijacked, although I guess they had to hack in to do it. How much heat does this thing give off?” She nodded toward the fireplace. “Will it heat the whole…” She shot a glance over her shoulder. “The whole room?”