by Lucy Farago
“Let me see how far it goes. It could only be a few feet.”
A few feet too many. But she nodded anyway, more because she had to move or go crazy than to acquiesce.
They changed spots and he entered the cavern. Monty knelt on his good knee and she watched with shameful regret as he dropped to his stomach and shone the flashlight under the crawlspace, throwing them into semidarkness. Here she was, whining, and there he was, doing all of this with an injured leg. He’d been on his knees just as long as she. She could only imagine how his burn must kill. Still, she was no Indiana Jones.
“Good. I don’t think it’s all that long, five, maybe six feet.” He flipped onto his back, the light casting shadows across his face. “Look, I don’t presume to know what this feels like for you. I don’t have that fear. So, if you want, we’ll go back and try the longer route. But if you ask me, you’re selling yourself short. You can do this.”
He had a lot more confidence in her than she had in herself, and she didn’t want to come off as useless, but damn, she also didn’t want to die this way. “What if I get stuck?” she said, her lungs well on their way to shriveling up.
“I’ll go first. I’m bigger than you are.”
“What if I freeze up or can’t move?”
“I’ll pull you out.”
“And…what if I lose it?” She flexed her fingers, trying to regain some feeling.
“You won’t,” he assured her. “I’ll be there with you. We’ll talk it through.”
“Will you tell me your name?” she said, unable to stop her voice from quivering.
“Maybe.” He smiled up at her.
“Lying bastard.”
She understood the fear was irrational just as she understood there wasn’t anything he could say that would make it go away. But forcing them to backtrack and take the longer path wasn’t fair to Monty. He was putting on a brave front, but all that crawling must have hurt his knee. And after everything he’d done for her, she could surely do this. She kneeled in front of him. “I’m scared.”
“I know.”
There’d been no judgment in his voice. No recrimination. So she told him something she’d never told another living soul.
“My father threw this dinner party. I knew he’d be busy. Not that he paid any attention to me, but I didn’t want my new nanny to catch me and tell him. And I knew if she did, she wouldn’t do it that night, when he had guests. So I had wiggle room. And with her having Sundays off, I figured I was in the clear. My mom kept some of her costumes. You know, from her showgirl days. She let me play dress-up with them…when my father wasn’t around, of course. Anyway, I’d overheard him tell the servants to pack up her clothes. He was going to get rid of everything.” He’d found Taylor in her mother’s closest and hadn’t been pleased about it. She was dead, he told her, and it was time she accepted it. “He wanted me to move on.”
Monty sat up. “How exactly does a seven-year-old move on?”
She shrugged, appreciating that he got it, that he understood. “I wanted one of her costumes. Just one. To remember her,” she said, pushing past the lump in her throat. “I snuck into her room, but I was too late. I hadn’t seen a delivery truck, so everything had to be in storage downstairs. The entire staff was busy in the kitchen. I was pretty much invisible. I saw Robert—that was our butler—with a key, going downstairs into the cellars. I hadn’t found any boxes in any of the rooms I’d searched, so I followed him, and when he wasn’t looking, snuck in behind him.”
Monty nodded with a rueful expression. He’d figured out how her story ended. “Wine cellar?”
“Wine cellar.”
“How long were you in there?”
“The police found me the following night. I’ve never seen my father that angry. Honestly, I’d never seen him express any emotion,” especially toward her, “not even when my mother died. Remember, I was seven and didn’t know shit.” The grin she flashed was sardonic because that was an understatement. “In my mind, if Daddy was mad, he must have been worried. And if he was worried, then he loved me. After that I did everything in my power to piss him off.” She laughed at her naïveté and hated all the anger and pain she’d managed to stir up. “Let’s do this.” Mary was gone, buried with her mother, but Taylor could do whatever she put her mind to.
Chapter 17
Taylor had impressed the hell out of him. The woman had guts, and he’d be ashamed to admit it had turned him on. But…more. There was just something about the way she faced her fears. That low ledge hadn’t been the last tight spot they’d had to squeeze under, but it had been the wickedest. Even he’d had to remind himself of the opening on the other end.
“How much farther?”
She’d sounded tired two hours ago. Now, if he could, he’d carry her the rest of the way. As it was, it was all he could do not to let her see how much his leg killed. They’d been climbing, crawling, squeezing, and even wading through knee-deep water for nearly four hours. “According to T, we should be reaching the mouth of a large cave.” He stopped and allowed her to catch up. The last few miles had been fairly straightforward. “Thank your lucky stars he thinks like a mole.”
“I’m just thankful I haven’t been buried alive. How is it this mountain has so many caves and tunnels?”
“Rainwater mostly, but snow too.” Although he suspected the lingering acrid ammonia smell had far less to do with Mother Nature and more with his friend T, who liked to make things go boom. “When water falls from the sky it snatches up carbon dioxide, making it slightly acidic. Then, when it passes through soil it eats away at the stone underneath.” He pointed to the rock walls. “Anything made of limestone, dolomite, gypsum, even salt, can create caves. And Alaska has numerous fault lines. In simple English, the earth shakes, mountains crack, water goes in, and voilà, caves.”
“There’s a dirty joke in there somewhere, but I’m too tired to think of one.”
He snickered. “You’re doing good. We’re almost there.”
“How’s your knee?”
It hurt like hell. “It’s fine. What I could use is a stretch…and then a massage.” They’d been walking hunched over for so long, his lower back ached. He leaned on one of the walls, trying to relieve the pressure, but it didn’t work. He didn’t know what was worse, his knee or his spine.
“I’ll do you, if you do me.”
He grunted. “I practically gave you that one.”
“Like I said, I’m too tired to zing out great one-liners.” Her flashlight flickered, and she gave it a little shake. “Batteries?”
He exchanged flashlights with her and, after a quick examination, realized all it needed was a little torque. “Must have come loose. But just in case, do you have it in you to pick up the pace? I don’t want to get stuck down here with only one light.”
“Sure,” she said on a pitiful sigh. “But then you have to do me first when we get out of here. Fair is fair.”
“Oh, man. That was pathetic.” Cute, but pathetic.
“Like I said…tired.”
She’d have time to rest soon enough. Although still early, outside the sun was setting. Normally he wouldn’t let that stop him, but he had Taylor to consider, and it was probably best if they waited until daylight to make the trek to the settlement. Trudging through the snow already exhausted would get them nowhere fast. And they had yet to see exactly what weather conditions awaited them.
“Mom, are we there yet?” she whined.
“Stop,” he warned “or no ice cream for you.” It was good to hear her sense of humor return.
“Oh, I’ll get ice cream and anything else I want. Wanna know why?”
He ducked a low ceiling to avoid smacking his head. “You’re a sex goddess who has men do her bidding? I’ll have you know, I’m nobody’s bitch, but for you, I’ll make an exception.”
“Aw, thanks.
You’re the best.” She gave his ass a none-too-gentle slap. “Now move it; this sex goddess needs a nap.”
He stopped. The temperature had abruptly changed. “And you might get it sooner than I think. Can you feel that?” The stale air they’d been breathing evaporated, replaced by the fresh scent of earth and snow.
“Oh, God, yes. Hurry, what are we waiting for?”
“There’s a dirty joke in there, but I’m too tired to come up with it,” he said, using her own words. Then he braced himself, hoping she wouldn’t punch him. “I have to go first.”
She surprised him. “Sure, okay, but make it snappy.”
“You’re okay with my going ahead and leaving you here? Alone?” He’d expected her to argue.
“You want to make certain the coast is clear. I get that.” She bounced from one foot to the other. “Hurry up before my claustrophobia kicks in.”
“You’ve been fine for a while now.” Why was she suddenly jittery? After she’d told him about the incident with wine cellar, he suspected she’d somehow come to grips with her fear; if not entirely, at least a little bit.
“Funny thing, fears—they have a way of…sneaking up on you.” She did that bouncy thing again.
“What’s really going on?”
“Ten clowns in a Volkswagen Beetle have more room than we do right now and you’re harping on me? Get going.”
“Taylor?” What wasn’t she telling him?
“Fine. I have to pee. I’ve had to pee for the last two hours.”
“Why didn’t you say something?” he asked, trying not to laugh because he suspected that would get him punched.
“Because women can’t just whip it out and go wherever.” The muscles in her jaw tightened as she rolled one shoulder. “Do we have to talk about this now?”
“I’m curious, that’s all.” He was being a prick, but after imitating a mouse for four hours, he was enjoying himself too much to stop.
“Damn,” she said, avoiding eye contact. “I was embarrassed. And before you say anything, most women don’t like peeing in front of guys…they’ve…been intimate with.”
“I could have gone ahead and given you privacy.”
“Everything echoes in here.”
“You know, everyone pees.” He bit the inside of his mouth to avoid that smack he was certain, now more than ever, she’d give him.
“I know everyone pees,” she snapped at him. “Can we stop talking about pee? Go see if we have company.”
Unable to stop himself, he kissed her. And even though they were covered in dirt and sweat, she tasted so good, he wanted more. Reluctantly, he pried his lips from hers. “I’ll try to make this fast. Why don’t you take care of…business while I’m gone.”
She dropped her head. “Will you just go.”
Trying not to laugh, he made his way down the passage, dragging his leg a little more now that she wasn’t with him. He wasn’t certain if he should be flattered she hadn’t wanted to embarrass herself in front of him or think her batshit crazy. Maybe that was why she’d been able to get over the claustrophobia. She’d had a more pressing problem to deal with. What was it about it her that made him smile like a fool? Still, he worried about her. She was alone now, and he wouldn’t be happy if he returned to find her curled up in a ball, scared. It was unsettling. He hadn’t been this concerned about someone since…since he decided his mother’s problems were her own. It was odd, to worry about another person. It wasn’t the same emotion he had about the danger the team faced. This was personal, and he wasn’t so sure he liked it. It had been a long time for a reason. He’d never wanted to experience that kind helpless again. His mother had done what she wanted regardless of how hard he’d tried to convince her each new man was not the one.
He was supremely thankful, and a little surprised, when the passage opened and he could stand erect. He was arching his back, searching for relief and trying not to groan out loud, when he noticed the walls. Scarred and blackened in some areas, they were exhibiting definite signs of tampering. Even the floor had far more shards of stone than anywhere else they’d come across. After a couple more hundred feet, he found himself inside a chamber. Small icicles clung to sections of the ceiling and, below them, patches of icy pools. Not too long ago, this chamber would have dripped water.
He made his way to the mouth and dug past the snow-covered entrance. The sky was, thankfully, clear. But the sea of white told him they were in for a long haul. Could they do this? He had survival training. But by her own admittance, Taylor’s experience was limited to Swiss chalets and ski lodges. Telling himself not to get discouraged, he turned from the opening, and that was when he spotted something that shouldn’t be there. Off to the side, hidden in an alcove, sat a pile of wood. On closer inspection, he realized it was a dilapidated wooden box, the kind once used to crate bottles. Inside, he discovered a stack of kindling secured with thick twine, rope, a hiking shovel, a small ax, a handheld saw, and a knapsack that contained, lo and behold, electronic detonators. And he didn’t have to remove the Mylar-wrapped blocks from the plastic Baggie to know what the last thing he fished out of the knapsack was. T had been doing the opposite of what he’d been warned not to. So this was why his go-to place was Alaska. Did Ryan know? Monty grinned. He’d have to remember this the next time he needed a favor.
He backtracked and found Taylor, hood up and huddled in a squat. He rushed to her. “It’s okay.” Ignoring his burning knee, he sat next to her and threw his arms around her. He never should have left her alone. He was so stupid. “The coast is clear, and we can get you out of these tight spaces.”
“Uh, Monty,” she said, her voice muffled. “I can’t breathe.”
“Sorry.” He released her, and she stood, looking down at him with a cute, crooked smile. “I thought you were having another panic attack,” he explained.
“So you thought suffocating me in a bear hug was the way to go?”
“It’s been a long day.”
“And getting longer.” This time the smile she flashed him made his heart pound even faster. “I was cold,” she clarified. “I guess when I stopped moving, it caught up to me. What did you find?” She extended her hand, which at this point he needed.
“Thanks.” He allowed her to help him up. “My back feels like an old man’s,” he said to explain his grimace. “Come along, mistress.” He held out his forearm for her. “I’ve found us lodgings for the evening.”
“Your Quasimodo to my Esmeralda?” She hooked her arm through his.
“Funny, coming from someone who knocked my suggestion that you focus on Romeo and Juliet. Didn’t the hunchback and his gypsy die too?”
“Pretty grotesquely too. They hung her and he held on to her dead body until he himself died.”
“Well, if that’s not true love, what is?”
“I know, right? Can’t get much more romantic than that.”
He’d never been one to romance a woman, but with Taylor all kinds of ways he could sweep her off her feet came to mind. And when they were safe, he might just try some of them.
* * * *
Taylor watched with open curiosity as Monty pinged rocks at the chamber’s ceiling. “What exactly are you doing again?” He’d muttered something about expanding molecules, but frankly, it flew right over her head.
“Testing the rock. A dull thud is bad. There’s debris on the floor, which is normally an indicator, but since T was blowing his way through the passage, this all could be from that.”
“I see,” she said, totally not seeing.
Monty eyed her sideways, like she should be understanding this. “I don’t want anyone to see smoke. The best location for a fire would be by the mouth of the cave, but a small one inside shouldn’t cause any problems.”
“Of course, now I totally understand why that ceiling deserves a good beating.”
He stopp
ed throwing stones and went to work at unwrapping the wood he’d found. “You want to be very careful when lighting a fire inside a cave,” he explained. “You don’t want to thermos-crack the stone and have it fall on you.”
“No, of course not. That would be stupid.”
He grinned at her like she was cute for not getting what the hell he was talking about. She debated pinging him in the head with one of those rocks. She shut off her flashlight and threw them into darkness. To conserve the batteries, they’d gone down to one light.
“Hey, turn that back on.”
She did.
“Rocks contain water. The more porous the rock, the more the water. Heat that water and you risk cracking the rock.”
“Crack the rock and it could fall.” Now she understood. “Why didn’t you say that in the first place?”
“I did.”
“Not in English. And what does a computer nerd know about rocks and thermal cracking?” Or starting fires, she thought, as he built a fire worthy of any Boy Scout.
Right before the sun had gone down, he’d taken the handsaw and tunneled through the snow, then returned with large evergreen branches. After creating a makeshift fire pit with stones, he explained that with the entrance to the cave mostly buried in snow, they were insulated enough to avoid freezing.
“Survival training. Ryan likes to dump our asses in remote areas and make us find our way home.” Monty blew on the small flame he’d started with the lighter she’d included in the emergency pack.
If she hadn’t left the pack in the grotto because her mind had been…elsewhere, it wouldn’t have still been there when they’d made their escape. “He tends to forget not everyone is an adrenaline junkie.”
“That’s right,” he said, sitting back to admire his work. “I forgot you dated.”