Buried Beneath

by Debbie Baldwin

“He's a specialist.” The Russian poured himself another.

  “In what?” Musgrave asked.

  “Delicate matters.”

  Federov spoke in clipped Russian to his driver. The car turned onto 16th Street and pulled smoothly up to the curb in front of the Hay-Adams hotel.

  Before the doorman could approach, a debonair man walked out of the lobby and across the covered portico. Musgrave noted that the driver had stepped out to open the car door, a courtesy he had not been afforded. The man slipped smoothly into the opposing seat and shook Federov's hand.

  “Aleksi, it's been a while,” the man said.

  “Two years at least. You are well, I take it?” Federov replied.

  Musgrave bit his cheek to endure the pleasantries.

  “Harlan,” Federov brought him into the conversation. “This is Caleb Cain. Cain, the honorable Senator Harlan Musgrave.”

  Federov was clearly enjoying Musgrave's discomfort. Caleb Cain, however, revealed nothing. Stifling his annoyance at the use of his name and title, Musgrave extended his hand.

  “Senator. Your reputation precedes you.” Cain spoke without inflection.

  Musgrave chose to take the words as a compliment, though he wasn’t quite sure. He cut to the chase. “There is an item I need to acquire.”

  “Not a problem.” Cain sipped the vodka Federov handed him.

  Musgrave retrieved some of his bravado. “Son, it's not snatching a necktie from Macy's.”

  It was Federov who replied. “Do you see this ring?” The mobster extended his hand to reveal a massive jeweled pinky ring Musgrave had never noticed before. “It traces back to the Romanovs. It was stolen from my family by the Bolsheviks over a hundred years ago. Cain reacquired it for me.” He took a long swallow of his drink. “From the Hermitage.”

  Musgrave felt his eyes bug out. “Oh, well, all right then. Sounds like you’re the fellow I need for this job.”

  The limo stopped again in front of a lavish Russian restaurant in Dupont Circle. “I have another meeting. I’ll leave you two to hash out the details.” Federov slipped out of the car.

  Aleksi Federov entered the over-decorated restaurant and nodded to the hostess. He made his way to the back of the room, acknowledging a few patrons as he wound through tables covered in red brocade and topped with gold candelabra. In the far corner, he parted a burgundy velvet curtain. Federov entered a private dining area with a semicircular booth and richly upholstered chairs where Nathan Bishop sat with a colleague so big he could barely fit in the space. Federov took the remaining seat. Nathan pulled a device from his ear, but the big man continued to listen to the conversation in the limousine.

  Federov pulled the imposing ring off his pinky and tossed it on the table. “Dime store crap is turning my finger green.”

  “The Hermitage was a nice touch,” Nathan smirked.

  “My family descended from the Romanovs, please.” Federov released a booming laugh. “I almost choked on my drink. The closest the Federovs ever came to the Winter Palace was to clean the shit in the street.” Federov grew serious. “Before your father died, I owed him a favor. He may have been a svoloch, but he settled his debts.” Federov normally wouldn’t insult a father to his son, but he knew Nathan Bishop agreed that his old man was a bastard.

  “Thank you,” Nathan replied.

  Federov waived the gratitude away. “In this circumstance, we have mutual interests. Musgrave screwed me on a piece of interstate commerce legislation. He thinks I don’t know, or he thinks he's untouchable. Both presumptions are false.”

  Nathan stood with the Russian and extended his hand. “I don’t foresee our interests aligning again.”

  Federov returned the gesture. “No, probably not.”

  Forty-five minutes later, Miles Buchanan, a.k.a. Caleb Cain, entered the alcove. Tox stood and greeted his twin brother with a hug before Miles took the seat Aleksi Federov had vacated.

  Tox forked a pierogi. “Musgrave is after the journal and the flash drive. So now we know The Conductor's behind this. And that he has Cam.”

  “Maybe.” Nathan was pensive.

  “What's maybe?” Tox asked.

  “The Conductor operates in the shadows, behind the scenes,” Nathan said. “Nobody in law enforcement even thinks he exists.”

  Miles leaned forward. “You think The Conductor has manipulated someone into doing his dirty work.”

  Nathan looked at both men. “I think it's a distinct possibility, yes.”

  Tox slid his plate to the side. “The Conductor is uniquely positioned to know people who could be looking for Miguel Ramirez, for good or bad.”

  Nathan agreed, “Hopefully, Cam's handler can shed some light on who those people are. I think it's a safe assumption that The Conductor isn’t going to draw attention or do anything to Cam until he has that journal and is free and clear from any blowback.”

  Miles knocked on the table. “I’ll just have to take my time stealing it then.”

  CHAPTER TWENTY-ONE

  Sa Calobra, Mallorca

  December 6

  T

  he beam from the light on her helmet illuminated the small opening in the wall, and Evan crawled through. The cave used for storage by the March Mining Company was dark and silent. Before hungry predators and creepy crawlies could find their way into her imagination, she moved to the corner where Miguel had pointed out the marker. She came down beside it and pulled the small tactical flashlight from the side pocket of her cargo pants.

  “La mina esta tancada.” The mine is closed.

  Evan shrieked and fell on her backside beside the stack of rocks. The flashlight flew from her hand and rolled to a stop at the toe of a very large boot. The helmet tumbled from her head and fell by her knees, the beam landing on the golden-eyed man sitting casually on a crate in the opposite corner eating sunflower seeds.

  Her relief at seeing him reduced her fury from boiling, but her humiliation kept it at a simmer.

  “You scared the crap out of me,” she whisper-shouted.

  “Miguel,” he added. “You scared the crap out of me, Miguel.”

  She replaced her helmet and nodded, running the beam of light up and down his big body. “You don’t look like a Miguel.” She stood and dusted off her clothes.

  “What do I look like?”

  “I don’t know. Something more ominous. Santiago or Carlo.” She snapped her fingers. “What's Spanish for jerk?” Evan tapped her chin.

  Miguel just smirked. “I had a feeling you’d be back.”

  “Why does this concern you?”

  He cracked the small shell with two fingers, extracting the seed and dropping the remains on the ground. “I was curious.” He looked up at her. “Isn’t that why you do what you do? Curiosity?”

  “No, well, yes. I suppose so,” she replied.

  “It killed the cat, you know. Curiosity. So I guess the mouse is free to roam.” He grinned.

  Evan shot him a quelling look.

  “You’re back to investigate your little rock piles, yes?” Miguel asked.

  “Yes. I’ve mapped the markers I’ve found, and I want to explore these internal caves and the connected mine tunnels. See if they lead somewhere. Any markings on the actual limestone have eroded. All I have to go on is the placement.”

  “I’ll accompany you,” he stated.

  She started to protest, but he raised a big hand. “No, chica. These mines are dangerous. You cannot explore them alone.”

  “All right, but there's one condition.” She pointed upward.

  He rose from the crate, stalked toward her, and bent down to retrieve her flashlight. He adjusted the helmet on her head, then ran the back of his index finger down the line of her cheekbone.

  To her surprise, Evan didn’t flinch or recoil. Miguel's hand on her face felt… nice.

  “The little mouse is making demands?” he murmured.

  “Yes. And stop calling me that. I’m not a mouse.” Evan lifted her chin and stood her ground.


  “Don’t insult the mice, chica. Mice are clever. They are persistent. They are experts at avoiding predators.” His finger continued its path down the front of her shirt between her breasts, stopping at the button of her pants. “Maybe you’re not a mouse after all. You’re not so good at escaping me.” His flaxen eyes sparkled with mischief.

  She stepped back and gestured to the doorway to the room that led out into the mines. “Shall we?”

  Evan knew she should be fearful of this haunting man, but something deep within her told her she could trust Miguel. Like your instincts have been so reliable in the past. She shook off her apprehension. She didn’t have much choice.

  “There is one condition,” she repeated.

  “And what's that?” he asked.

  “Don’t touch anything. And definitely don’t take anything,” Evan insisted.

  Miguel just stared at her. After a good ten seconds, he simply said, “We will see.”

  For three hours, they wandered. Cam was enthralled by her focus and patience. They had only spoken briefly. Evan explained features of the caves and dropped factoids of interest. Cam was surprised to discover they were interesting. Or maybe it was just the woman pointing them out. She was stunning. Her hair and eyes were the identical pale brown, and when she was concentrating, her pink tongue peeked out and rested between bee-stung lips. The way her hands roved the bumps and valleys of the cave walls had him half hard—the way she held her neck and arched her back to ease the stiffness finished the job. She was thankfully oblivious to his arousal, speaking academically and pointing out various nocturnal threats they might encounter. Cam had bitten back a laugh. No beetle or snake could compare to the nocturnal threats he had faced in his career.

  Cam had steered Evan away from the chained-off mine tunnel he had spotted when he toured the mines with Atlas and Joseph. Something told him a different kind of nocturnal threat lurked. An hour before dawn, they returned to the storage room where they had started. They hadn’t found any other markers, but Evan had made note of a cluster of caves she wanted to explore the following night. As they entered, Cam noticed her slight limp had become more pronounced.

  “You’re injured?” he asked.

  She looked down at her calf. “It's nothing. Stingray got me.”

  “That's not nothing. They can kill,” Cam replied.

  She brushed it off. “I was lucky, I guess. A good Samaritan helped me, and I was treated right away. No long-term damage. It's just a little sore.”

  He couldn’t resist. “A good Samaritan?”

  “Yes. Just a man who helped. Thank God it wasn’t you on that beach. You would have watched me drown.” Evan began organizing her pack.

  Cam came up behind her. “I don’t know, mouse. It depends on how you would have thanked me.”

  Evan stilled. “Let's just focus on the search.”

  Cam spotted a case of water in the corner of the room and grabbed two bottles. He handed Evan one and downed the other in one go.

  “It was a waste of time,” he said.

  “No! It wasn’t. Miguel, these caves guard their secrets. Have you ever done a jigsaw puzzle?”

  “Sure.” He shrugged.

  “I mean a really challenging one. Like a thousand pieces?” she asked.

  Cam's face was blank, but on the inside, he was bursting. He wanted to tell her how every Christmas Eve, his family in Miami would eat a big dinner then break out a new puzzle. His sisters competed throughout the year to see who could find the most difficult one, and the family would try to assemble the edge before bedtime. A sudden longing possessed him, an unbidden image flashing in his mind.

  Evan in his family home, sitting next to him at the big puzzle table, his arm around the back of her chair distracting her while she searched for pieces.

  “Well, anyway, it's super hard at the beginning. You look at this giant stack of pieces and think it will never be a picture. But slowly, you start to assemble it, and all of a sudden, everything makes sense. That's what this search is like—all these caves, all these puzzle pieces. There are markers and gold links and tunnels and tides. We’ve already clicked some pieces into place. We just need to keep at it.”

  “Tomorrow, bring food,” he replied.

  She laughed then. It was a great sound, hoarse and melodic. Cam wanted to hear it when he threw her onto a bed, and her naked body bounced on the mattress. Then he would wrap her legs around his waist and replace the laughter with shouts of pleasure. Shoving his hands in his pockets, he abruptly turned toward the door that led back to the mine. Evan would leave through the hole and out through the caves to the beach.

  “See you tomorrow.” He lifted a hand with his back to her and disappeared around the corner.

  Evan secured the Zodiac at the base of the dock. The beach was deserted as she crossed the dark sand and made her way up the grassy path to the finca. It was a bit of a hike, but Evan needed the quiet and the cool air to process her thoughts. No, she corrected. Process her feelings.

  She was twenty-seven and in the fifth year of her Ph.D. program. She was a well-adjusted, healthy, heterosexual woman… who had not allowed a man to touch her sexually in nine years. It wasn’t by conscious choice. After the incident in high school, any time a man… argh! She kicked a clump of high grass in frustration. Panic attacks had barred her from intimacy. Until Miguel.

  What was it about this man? He was a thug, a pervert, an opportunist, and those were the flattering things about him. He could be a drug addict or a criminal. But when his hand ran down her cheek, or he touched the small of her back to guide her through a narrow passage, she seemed to melt into his touch.

  She huffed. It wasn’t as if he was reaching between her legs, and yet more than once, as they knelt to examine a cave wall or investigate a rock outcropping, she had fantasized about just that. An hour into their adventure, her thong was wet.

  When she imagined a man with golden eyes, she pictured a predator, an evil beast. But Miguel's eyes were warm and inviting, like sunshine. When he looked at her, she wanted to thrust her fingers into that thick auburn hair and kiss the life out of him.

  Her laughter split the silent morning. Evan rubbed her arms over her jacket. She knew she should scold herself for indulging her reverie, but she wouldn’t. She had never ever had these feelings of desire, and she wanted to bathe in the sensation without question or rebuke.

  When she arrived at the finca, she climbed the creaky staircase to her room. Quickly rinsing the dirt of the mines from her body, she donned an old T-shirt and crawled into bed. She found sleep just as the sun was peeking up over the horizon.

  CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO

  Sa Calobra, Mallorca

  December 7

  A

  t just after one in the morning the next night, Cam entered the storeroom to a picnic. A smile broke over his face. Evan had spread a small hand towel on the ground and set out granola bars, dates, a wedge of local sheep's milk cheese, and…

  “Almond Joy?” he grinned.

  “It's my favorite candy bar. They actually sell them here. Plus,” she tore open the wrapper and slid out the chocolate, “it's two little bars inside, so we can each have one.”

  Cam dropped to a catcher's stance and swiped his half. It was his favorite candy bar as well. He savored the chocolate and coconut, trying to remember when he had last had one.

  “It's not a candlelit dinner in a dark restaurant, but it looks like you’re trying to seduce me, mouse.”

  Evan scoffed. “Hardly.”

  Her mouth said the words, but her eyes said something else. Miguel Ramirez would have taken her without hesitation. Cam wanted to take her without hesitation. Yet, he hesitated. Why? The answer was so fucked up, he almost couldn’t admit it to himself. He didn’t want Miguel Ramirez to touch her. Miguel wasn’t good enough for her. Good God, he was jealous of himself. Before he gave himself an aneurysm, he snatched a granola bar and pushed to his feet.

  “Pity,” he winked. �
��Let's get going.”

  She wrapped up the rest of the food and stowed it in her pack for later. When she was ready, Cam gestured to the hole that led to the caves, and they set out.

  “So,” Evan started while scanning the flashlight around, “what do you do when you’re not working security in the mine?”

  “Treasure hunt with beautiful women.”

  He sensed her pleasure in the dark. “Besides that.”

  Something about the darkness and the woman and this screwed-up adventure had him speaking the truth.

  “Anything and everything in the water,” he said.

  “Do you surf?”

  “Yes.”

  “Do you SCUBA dive?” she continued.

  “Yes.”

  “Getting information out of you is like pulling teeth.”

  “Yes.”

  She laughed then.

  “When I was a kid, my hobby was magic,” she offered.

  “Magic?”

  “I was super shy and had trouble making friends. My dad bought me a magic kit to bring me out of my shell.”

  Cam noticed the flashlight bob, making it clear she was air quoting the last part.

  “Did it work?” He ducked down to avoid a rock formation and covered Evan's head to do the same.

  “Not really, but I learned some cool magic tricks,” she said.

  “But you can’t reveal your secrets, correct? The magicians’ code?” Cam asked.

  “I don’t think I rank among official magicians, but yes. Even the instruction book in my little child's kit said never to tell how a trick is done.”

  “Smoke and mirrors.” Cam checked around an outcropping.

  “Well, yes, actually. A huge part of magic is distraction. You get the audience to focus over here.” She danced the beam of the flashlight across the cave wall. “While you do magic over here.” She held up his watch.

  Cam grabbed her wrist. “That's not magic; it's pickpocketing. That I know how to do.” He held up his other hand, her small card wallet between two fingers.

  “You distracted me.” She glanced at his strong hand gently circling her wrist, then met his gaze. “Did I reveal my secret?”