Buried Beneath

by Debbie Baldwin

  Evan rolled onto her back and stared up at a building of a man with long hair and a full beard. He was explaining to two others in clipped Catalan that he had caught her spying. The men spoke quickly, and she was seeing stars from her knock on the head, but one sentence was clear: “Call Señor March.”

  One man entered a number and put the call on speaker so the others could listen. When the calm voice of Joseph Nabeel came over the line, Evan silently cursed. She knew deep down Joseph would resort to desperate measures if he thought she knew where to find The Panther's Eye.

  Evan needed to get out of there now. The men were facing one another and seemed to be arguing over how to restrain her.

  Quiet as the mouse Miguel accused her of being, she inched slowly back. By the time one of the men looked up, she was only a foot from the steel door. Evan leapt to her feet acting on pure impulse, pushed open the heavy door, and took off. She heard expletives and shouts from the room, but she had already disappeared around the corner. She had been carried down these tunnels backward with a hand covering her mouth, but weeks in this underground labyrinth had honed her spatial awareness. She saw the chain ahead of her and ducked under it. She knew her destination. If no one had discovered her small treasure cave in six centuries, surely it was the perfect hiding place. She ran with familiarity, passing spots she and Miguel had noted on their adventures.

  When she came to the storage room, she ducked in. Thankfully the men had cleared out. Without hesitation, she heaved the steel cabinet away from the wall and crawled into the opening. Then gripping the underside, she pulled the heavy cupboard back into place. She flopped into the little treasure room and clapped both palms over her mouth. Air puffed from her nose over the backs of her hands. She waited in the silence.

  Five minutes passed, then ten. Eventually, Evan turned back to the entrance Miguel had created with the sledgehammer and began stacking rocks to cover the opening. It wouldn’t bar anyone from entry, but the added layer was certainly better, and it gave her something to do.

  When she had covered the hole as best she could in the darkness, she turned back to her treasure room. She mapped the small space in her mind—the mound in the far corner where she and Miguel had found the gold box, the flat rocks to her left where they had opened their magical find.

  Then she remembered Miguel discarding the rock they had both assumed had been placed there to weigh the box down. Hardly more interesting than a big rock. It wasn’t a weight. She knew it was the Panther's Eye. He had tossed the massive diamond over his shoulder. She had heard the thunk as it hit the ground and the plop as it rolled into the water.

  She pulled the small tactical flashlight from her pocket and stepped out of the bulky coveralls. She knew how she would be passing the time.

  CHAPTER FORTY-THREE

  Palma, Mallorca

  December 14

  U

  nlike the last time he had regained consciousness in the March villa, Cam didn’t allow the lure of Egyptian cotton and Siberian goose down to pull him into complacency. Especially with his arms tethered to the bedposts and Gemini March standing at the foot of the bed in a black demi bra and lace thong. She was holding an equestrian whip.

  Cam squinted at her. “Well, chica, you’ve officially ruined this fantasy for me.”

  “Oh, come now, I bet when you close your eyes at night or touch yourself in the shower, this is pretty close to what you picture. That is, if my fan mail is anything to go by,” she replied.

  “Untie me, Gemini. I can’t make your fantasies come true like this,” Cam ordered.

  She climbed atop his body and straddled his narrow hips. “You certainly can’t make them come true treating me like some pathetic nobody and spending your time in my cousin's mines.” She lifted her arm and brought the crop down full force across his chest, immediately raising a welt.

  Cam cried out. “What the fuck, puta? Stop!”

  She moved further up his body, her full weight on his diaphragm shortening his breaths. “But I don’t want to stop. I want to keep going.” She struck him on the thigh. “I asked you on our first night together at the Villa who you were really looking for on Ibiza. Do you remember what you said?”

  When Cam remained silent, she held the crop in both hands, bending it in threat.

  He spoke through gritted teeth. “I said I was looking for you.”

  She giggled. It was a girlish sound in complete antipathy to the sadistic dominatrix above him. “Yes, and you were. You just didn’t know it. But you will. Tonight, I’m going to show you what you’ve been missing. Tonight, the Boss of Fuck will work for me.”

  “You’re psychotic.” Cam tugged on his bonds.

  “You’d be surprised how appealing a little crazy can be to some men. Especially when it's wrapped in a pretty package.” She bent forward and licked his chest.

  “Sorry, sweetheart. You’ve got the wrong guy. Nothing about this turns me on.” Even as he said it though, Cam felt his hard-on throbbing.

  “Ah, but you see, that's what the injection was for. My cousin has access to all kinds of experimental concoctions. Sometimes I think drug smugglers have more advanced R & D than pharmaceutical companies.” She reached behind her and fisted his length.

  Cam fought his body's unwilling response, but it was no use. The drug she had given him was making arousal inevitable. She scooted down his body and licked the tip of his growing erection. “Mmm, what a delicious treat. No condom, I think. Wouldn’t that be great fodder for the tabloids? A supermodel with a mysterious pregnancy? Imagine the wild speculation.”

  “Get the fuck off me.” He bent his fingers toward his left wrist, unsuccessfully trying to reach the short-range distress beacon on his watch

  She leaned back up. “You’re a big disappointment, Miguel. All I wanted was to enjoy a week or so with you between my legs.” She brought the crop down hard as she spoke. “All I wanted was that remarkable cock. I was even prepared to submit to your dominance. But instead, you run all over my island with some little piece of trash and ignore me. Well, there's no ignoring me now.”

  “Leave Evan out of this,” he spat.

  Gemini dismounted and stood next to the bed.

  She wielded the whip, smacking Cam across the pelvis. Dots of blood appeared in a line. He grunted. She moved to the foot of the bed, leveling a blow to the bottoms of his feet. Cam cried out in pain, and her eyes lit. She walked forward, staring at his erection and pulled back the crop.

  “Oh, trust me, Miguel. That little nobody has no place in our bedroom. Joseph tells me she's quite the daring treasure seeker. She could be buried under a rockslide in her precious caves for all I care.”

  With a roar, Cam pulled his body forward, ripping the entire brass headboard from the bed. Gemini stepped back in shock as small metal rods separated from the frame and fell to the floor. He stood to face her, the headboard like a cross on his back. She smiled as she slowly backed into his closet, then turned and disappeared. Cam moved to follow, but the length of the brass prevented his passing through the doorway. He gripped the buckle of one tether with his teeth, freeing one wrist then the other. He tossed the headboard aside and entered the closet. It was empty. He felt around the walls looking for a latch or hidden panel but saw nothing. He flew out of the closet across the bedroom and through the terrace doors. He stumbled on the lawn and collapsed, the drugs still heavy in his system. Naked and aroused, he activated the distress beacon on his watch.

  He made his way to the edge of the lawn overlooking the bay.

  A vintage wooden Chris Craft race boat came shooting out of the stone and stucco boathouse, Gemini March at the helm. She turned and scanned the bluff. He saw the moment she spotted him. Then she blew him a kiss and sped out to sea.

  Cam hobbled back to the bedroom, the pain from the whipping just now registering. He fell onto the bed and stared at the ceiling. Thirty minutes later, his head had cleared just as a booted foot kicked in the bedroom door.

  Tox and
Chat entered in standard formation. Steady and Ren on their heels.

  “It's clear. She's gone,” Cam muttered.

  Ren was a medic and rushed to his side.

  “Where's Evan?” Cam groaned.

  Ren spoke as he assessed Cam's injuries. “We don’t know. She's not at the finca where she's staying or the dig site.”

  “I need to find her. She had to have gone back to the caves. She doesn’t realize she's a hair's breadth away from a heroin lab. I need to know she's safe.”

  “And you will, we will, but you have to let me patch you up.” Ren treated Cam's wounds with a field kit. When he came to the injury at his engorged groin, Cam explained. “She drugged me.”

  Ren dabbed antibiotic ointment on the bleeding welt. “I always knew you were attracted to me, but let's take it slow.”

  Cam laughed then hissed in pain.

  “That's one crazy bitch, my friend.” Ren helped Cam sit up.

  “Find me some underwear, and let's get the fuck out of here.” Cam was already swinging his legs off the bed.

  Ren found Cam's boxers on the rug, and Cam pulled them on. Ren and Chat each took one of Cam's arms, and with Tox taking point and Steady on their six, the men exited the March villa. In the front hall, the men paused while Steady grabbed a spare set of fatigues from his pack in the rented SUV. He helped Cam into the pants, then looked his friend directly in the eye and added with feigned seriousness, “and remember, for erections lasting more than four hours, please consult a physician.”

  Even Chat laughed as they quickly made their exit.

  They entered the mine quickly and silently in standard tactical formation. Cam took point, Steady and Ren followed with Chat and Tox on their six. The men bypassed the elevator and moved through the descending tunnels. The only thing more dangerous than a long hallway in an incursion was an elevator car. The mine was silent as death.

  They came to the chained-off area where Cam had caught the men making the drugs. Voices drifted through the tunnel. “She's here somewhere.”

  Cam released a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. Somehow she had escaped. The Bishop security team moved closer and, using a small handled mirror, spotted two men around a turn speaking in hushed voices.

  “The men watching the beach and the front entrance haven’t reported seeing her,” one of the men barked.

  Steady murmured into his comm, “That's because the men at the front entrance are on break.”

  Herc and Calliope were currently keeping a watchful eye on the guards they had incapacitated. Cam scratched his stubbled jaw. Evan's first instinct would be to run to the caves and exit to the beach. The men there would shoot her on sight. Then it hit him.

  “Think you guys can handle these two? I know where Evan is,” Cam said.

  Tox huffed, “Please.”

  “We’ll rendezvous at the side entrance,” Steady said.

  Before anyone could make another glib comment, Cam was off like a shot.

  He ran through the maze of hallways, desperate to find Evan. Rounding a final corner, he skidded to a stop. Atlas March stood before him flanked by two men, their guns trained on Cam. He held up his hands.

  “Miguel, I require a moment of your time,” Atlas turned and began walking.

  One of the guards stepped forward and drilled Cam in the temple with the butt of his gun.

  When Cam came to, he was tied to a chair in an isolated room in some peripheral section of the mine. He’d barely cleared his vision when one of the guards delivered a blow to his jaw so forceful, his comm device flew from his ear and landed on the ground at his feet. Atlas March faced him. “I gather from the goons running roughshod through my mine, you are not who you claim to be.”

  Cam remained silent.

  “Did The Conductor send you?” Atlas demanded.

  Cam kept his gaze forward. “Why would you think that?”

  Atlas threw up his hands. “Because I refuse to be extorted. I own a fucking shipping company. I’ll transport my own drugs.”

  “The Conductor doesn’t allow that.” Cam played along.

  “Well, let's see how he likes it when his man comes back to him in a body bag.” Atlas unbuttoned his suit jacket and casually sank his hands into his trouser pockets. “But before that, I have some questions.”

  “I don’t have any answers,” Cam said.

  “You will tell me what I want to know, Mr. Ramirez.” Atlas snapped his fingers and pointed to one of his men.

  One of the guards slid spiked brass knuckles onto his fist. Cam struggled, but his bonds held. He waited for the first blow, lifting his eyes to his captor, who was staring back at him with a peculiar expression on his face. Cam noticed a small red spot appear in the middle of Atlas's white dress shirt. Slowly, it bloomed. A moment later, Atlas March dropped to his knees before collapsing dead onto the floor. Cam's gaze shot to the room's entrance, where a man in black tactical gear with a balaclava covering his face fired two more suppressed shots. The guards fell at Cam's feet.

  The man entered the room, bypassed Cam, and set his pack on a table. “You Miguel Ramirez?”

  Cam remained silent. The man withdrew a karambit from the duffle. The black curved blade was lethal, and Cam knew it took years to master the knife's use. “I was told I’d know you when I saw you—the eyes,” the man said, tapping the tip of the weapon to his cheek.

  Cam stared at the wall. “Yes.”

  The man stepped in front of him and, with impressive expertise, cut the ropes. “You’re free to go.”

  “I don’t understand.” Cam rubbed his wrists.

  “I was instructed not to kill you. I’m not killing you. The man I work for said to tell you; you can thank your scar-faced friend.”

  “Who do you work for?” Cam asked.

  The man returned to the pack and started pulling out bricks of C4. “Someone who doesn’t like competition. Go. Now. You have about twenty minutes.”

  Evan. Cam snapped up the comm device and inserted it as he raced out of the room. “Tox, Steady? You copy?”

  “What's your status?” Tox barked.

  Cam spoke as he raced through the tunnels. “Atlas March is dead, and the mine is wired to blow. Get everybody clear. I don’t have an exact count, but call it T minus fifteen to be safe. Move the rendezvous point beyond the low hills to the west. That should be clear of the blast zone. I’m getting Evan, and we’ll meet you there.”

  “Good copy. Out.”

  Back at the storeroom, he pulled the steel cabinet away from the wall. When he saw the rocks stacked haphazardly in the entrance to the treasure cave, he wanted to shout for joy. She was here. To abate her fear, he spoke through the small gaps.

  “Evan? It's Cam. I’m coming in. Don’t nail me with a rock or anything, okay?”

  A tiny voice replied. “Okay.”

  Cam pushed away the rocks and barreled through the small hole like the hulk. It was pitch black, the lanterns from the storage room casting a sliver of light near the entrance. Cam switched on his flashlight and scanned the small space. There, sitting by a wide puddle, was Evan. She was smiling.

  She scrambled over to him, and he fell back on his ass, lifting her into his lap. No words escaped before his lips found hers. The kiss was filled with passion, relief, concern, and, most of all, hope. Cam deepened the kiss, their tongues dancing. He lost himself as they melded. It wasn’t a zing he felt. It was a fucking sonic boom.

  He pulled her body closer, deepened the kiss further. All he could think in that moment was, I love her.

  He broke the kiss and cradled her head into the crook of his neck. This was madness. How could he love this woman? Then she pulled back, and her cinnamon gaze met his alight with happiness. “I was really hoping you’d show up.”

  How could he not love her?

  The words were on his lips when she said the one thing that drew his declaration to a screeching halt. “All I kept thinking this whole time was I wish Miguel were here.”


  Cam pulled back like he’d been stung. Miguel. He schooled his expression and smoothed her hair. “Come on. We gotta get out of this mine.”

  “But first…” Evan reached into the side pocket of her pants and withdrew a rock. Cam stared at it.

  “Oh, wait, no. This is an actual rock.” She held it in her fist. “I stuck it in there in case I needed, you know…” She swung the rock down through the air. “Whack any bad guys.”

  She replaced it in the side pocket of her cargo pants and withdrew another. “This is what I wanted to show you.”

  It was round like a geode and the size of a baseball. He saw nothing of note in the dim light.

  “Evan, some psychopath is going to blow this entire mine off the side of the mountain in about…” He checked the timer on his watch. “Fourteen minutes.”

  “This is the rock that was in the gold box we found,” she explained.

  “Okaaay.”

  “It's not a weight.” She grinned.

  “Tell it walking, beautiful.” Cam grabbed her free hand and pulled her toward the hole. A hole now filled by Joseph Nabeel's slim frame. His Ruger trained on Cam. He climbed through, never taking his eyes off his target.

  “Go ahead, dear,” Joseph said. “Tell him the story of my diamond.”

  Cam moved Evan behind him.

  “Joseph, what are you doing?” she asked over Cam's shoulder.

  “More than half my life I’ve been looking for that diamond. And you, you stumble upon it like a child finding a euro in the street.”

  Cam glanced at his watch. Eleven minutes. He couldn’t call for help; the team couldn’t get in and out in time.

  “Joseph,” Cam said calmly, “we need to get out of this mine.”

  “I’m not leaving without The Panther's Eye. You are not leaving at all.” Joseph aimed the gun at Cam's chest.

  “You want it? Go get it.” Evan whipped the object in her hand over her shoulder. It flew through the air and plopped into a tidal pool.

  “No!” Joseph shouted.

  Taking advantage of Joseph's distraction, Cam nailed him in the chest with a sidekick. He collapsed on the ground, the gun spinning from his hand. Cam grabbed Evan by the waist and practically threw her through the hole into the storeroom. “Run, Evan! I’m right behind you.”