Chapter 8
EIGHT
This might be a singularly bad idea.
Doyle, following his gut, again, listening to his impulses instead of taking a breath, stepping back, waiting for an organized rescue team.
But waiting could get people killed, thank you.
He and Tia had climbed the trail to the cave under the light of the moon, his Maglite illuminating the path. Now they stood at the opening, the darkness inside thick and brooding.
“There are ghosts in those caves.”
Elias’s words rose inside him, and maybe he wasn’t wrong.
A chilly, ghoulish breath filtered out of the space.
“What were they thinking?” This from Tia. She’d changed out of that pretty sundress into a pair of hiking pants, boots, and a long-sleeve shirt, and pulled her hair back.
Still so pretty, and he had to shake away the memory of a different impulse, the one he’d followed at the beach...
Nope. Maybe he should thank Jamal and Elias for stopping him from getting in over his head.
He and Tia were simply two broken hearts on a rebound, colliding into each other.
“They’re kids. Who knows what they’re thinking?” Doyle pulled off his backpack and dug through it, finding the headlamp. He’d retrieved it from the construction gear he’d accumulated, using it in the chapel overhaul. Now, he handed it to Tia who fitted it on and turned on the light.
It illuminated the opening of the cave, the beam falling on the amber walls, the debris that scattered outside the opening from today’s earlier shake.
“I hope they didn’t get far,” Tia said as she stepped into the dark yawn of the cave.
He followed, with a final glance at the stars, the moon, maybe heaven. He shone his Maglite onto the walls, across the handful of openings that led off the main vault. “Which tunnel?” He started toward the tunnel they’d taken earlier, the one that supposedly led to the monastery.
Tia stopped him with a hand to his arm. “Listen.”
Voices. They echoed deep within the mountain, lifting into the cavern. He stilled, pointing his flashlight down one of the other nearby tunnels. “It doesn’t sound like it’s coming from the tunnel we took earlier—the one that contained Ethan’s equipment.”
“If that was even the right tunnel. Who knows which one leads to the monastery?”
Right.
She turned toward a different tunnel, one with a narrower opening, and stepped toward the darkness. “I can’t believe they had the courage to go down here.” She blew out a breath and headed inside, ducking her head a little.
What she said. His gut tightened, and her words from earlier echoed through his brain as he followed her. “We’ll find them.”
He turned off his flashlight and slipped it into his pack to save the batteries. Her light splashed over the amber rock, the tunnel tight, dust layering the floor. “Footprints?”
“It seems like it...” She pointed to the clutter of stamped earth. “But look.” Ahead, the walls tightened, and farther, rock blocked the path.
Still, the murmur of voices lifted as if they might be beyond the debris.
“Maybe there’s another way in?”
She nodded, and they turned around.
“You lead the way,” he said, and she slipped past him in the narrow cave, heading back out to the entrance.
“It just seems so crazy to me that they’d go hunting for the treasure,” she said as they worked their way back out.
“Teenagers. I get it. I could see them being lured into the idea of an adventure and riches.”
“They’re almost old enough to leave the orphanage according to Mariposa law. It could be scary, looking out into the future and seeing nothing.” Her footfalls thumped against the rock.
Huh. “Yes.” And he didn’t want to admit how her words settled in him, suddenly felt raw and too real. His life after Juliet died had been so dark, and frankly, he still couldn’t see the future.
She reached the main opening and stood in the center, her light brightening the cave, her hands on her hips, fierce, determined.
Or maybe... maybe he was starting to see it...
“I think the voices are coming from this tunnel.” She pointed to another opening, near the back of the cave. This mouth seemed larger, and as she stared at the ground, he too spotted the footprints in the dust.
So many choices. Please, God, help them find the right one.
“We should have brought reinforcements. Like some of those Jones, Inc. guys, or even your brother.”
“I looked for Stein—he’d gone back to Declan’s place. And the security team needs to stay at the monastery.” He followed her again into the maw. “Jack should be here—he’s the brother who knows how to find the lost.”
“Really?”
“Yeah. He’s a rewardist—finds people for the reward money.”
“That feels a little opportunistic.”
“Not for the people who’ve lost someone. It’s comforting to have someone invested in helping you through your nightmare.”
She glanced at him, then nodded. “Yeah, I guess so.”
He frowned as she continued down the tunnel. This one had been hollowed out to fit a small truck, perhaps, because the ceiling rose ten feet above them, the walls wider. Off the main tunnel shot smaller tunnels that spiderwebbed back into the darkness.
“You guess so?”
She kept walking. “My sister, Penny, was like a bulldog investigating Edward’s case. It wouldn’t have been solved if it weren’t for her, but along the way, a few people got murdered and... of course, that wasn’t her fault—and she nearly died, too—but it felt invasive. Like having her look into his death would also uncover the truth about our engagement.”
“The truth?”
“That we weren’t right for each other. That I was the second choice.”
She said it without emotion, without a hitch in her voice, but the statement still landed in his chest, a deep ache for her.
And then he remembered her words from their conversation at the dinner at Declan’s house. “I just couldn’t admit that I’d said yes to marrying a man just because I didn’t want to be the forgotten older sister.”
Forgotten older sister?
“Tia... why did you think you were forgotten?”
She frowned at him.
“You said you were the forgotten older sister. The second choice.”
She braced her hand on the wall as the tunnel pitched downward. “I was the second choice. Penny was his true love. Edward loved her from the day he rescued her from being kidnapped.”
“What?”
Pulling her hand from the wall, she brushed off the dust, then stared down into the darkness. “Do you still hear the voices?”
Actually, they’d quieted, fallen to nothing. “No.”
She turned, put her hands on her hips. “Maybe we should double back, keep listening.”
He nodded and she brushed past him. But he couldn’t help himself... “Kidnapped?”
She sighed. “Yes. It’s a long story, but the short of it was that she was kidnapped by our nanny, and Edward, the son of our housekeeper, found her. He hid her until my parents could rescue her—but that bond between them was forever cemented. Except Edward was the chef’s son and four years older than her, and he never... he could never breach that. At least, until he went to MIT and met me, and I don’t know. I am sure he loved me... just not like he loved Pen.”
She started back up the tunnel. “It was glaringly clear to me, especially after we graduated and moved back to Minneapolis. He just... he looked at her the way I hope some man will someday look at me.”
“How’s that?”
She stood slightly above him and turned. “As if I am the part of himself that was always missing. ‘The One.’” She finger quoted the words, then gave him a sad smile. “Probably like how you looked at Juliet.”
Then she kept moving, and he stood, frozen.
Yes. Maybe he had looked at Juliet that way. Or maybe he’d just seen Juliet as an extension of himself. Not completing him, but belonging with him. Which, at the time, felt perfectly right.
Still did, maybe.
Because, yes, he’d always thought she was the One.
Tia had moved up the tunnel, back to flatter ground, a wider space, and stopped.
“What—”
She held up a hand. Listened. Then looked at him and crooked her finger.
He climbed up next to her, stilled.
Voices. They were low, and yet that sounded like a kid’s voice.
She pointed down a nearby passageway, smaller but still big enough for a trolley car. She shot him a look. “I’m going to strangle those kids with my bare hands.”
He smiled, gave a huff. “Only if you find them first.”
She smiled then too and took a step toward the tunnel.
The mountain seemed to shake awake, as if stirring after a long sleep. The ground trembled, and amber dust shifted off the walls into the air.
“Not again! I thought we told Ethan to leave it alone!” Tia had frozen.
He put his hand on her arm. “We’re not going in there?—”
“Doyle!”
The mountain shook again, this time with more oomph, and she met his eyes, hers widening.
“We can’t help them if we’re trapped,” he said.
“We can’t leave them!”
But everything inside him told him to run. And Doyle was a man who listened to his instincts. “C’mon!”
He turned her, pushed her ahead of him, his hands on her hips. She fought him for a second, but the rock continued to shake.
She took off toward the opening?—
Dust clogged the air, rocks shaking free now, pebbles scattering at their feet.
“Run!” He put his hand to her back, but he didn’t need to.
She broke out into a semi-sprint on the uneven ground, her light spraying across the darkness. There—ahead—the exit?—
He burst out after her, into the open area, heading for the entrance?—
Rocks spilled down the entrance, careening off the mountain, bouncing into the vault, and he grabbed her around the waist and yanked her away just as boulders rolled in.
“Not that way!”
The landslide thundered across the open space, and he pushed her back, into another tunnel, his arm still hooked around her waist.
Behind them, the entire mountain seemed to break apart, roaring now as they stumbled into the darkness, her light ripping across the jagged, broken tunnel.
“There!” He spotted an alcove, and in it, an old metal cart.
In one swift move, he swept her up and deposited her inside it.
Dust thundered into the tunnel. He held his breath, then followed her into the cart.
He knelt in front of her, his knees on either side of her legs, his arms braced over her, hands hanging onto the edge of the cart. “Cover your mouth!” He hated to think of the sulfur they might be ingesting.
He ducked his mouth into his shirt, his body over hers, listening to the chaos of the mountain—rocks falling, and all around them, amber and blood-red dust so thick he had to close his eyes.
Which led him to the only thing he could do when he made singularly impulsive decisions?—
Hang on and pray.
* * *
“You need to get out of there.”
The last words Nim said to her before Emberly stepped inside Declan’s vault for the second time, this time to secure the AI program.
A plan that seemed to go without a hitch, her downloading the program, sealing the hard drive into a waterproof bag, and packing it into her shorts pocket. Then the lift on the other side of the chamber started to move, and she had nowhere else to go but... inside.
The vault...
As in trapped.
At least she had extra oxygen with her, along with her headlamp, which illuminated the walk-in vault. But she’d had to hunker down while security searched the place.
And pray, really, that no one opened the safe.
Emberly glanced at her watch. Three hours since she’d locked herself inside. The vault had a safety release for just these moments—she’d at least checked before she sealed herself in. But much longer and she’d run out of air.
She’d be forced to leave. And then—what? Walk right into Stein’s grip?
Well, she’d been there before, hadn’t she?
The memory forced its way in before she could swipe it away, and gosh —she had nothing else to do but revisit Poland.
Revisit the early-morning hours when Stein had relieved her from her night watch. He’d come into the room, revived after four hours of sleep, looking every inch the warrior she expected. Lean, built, a haze of whiskers across his jaw, his dark-blond hair askew, and of course pierced her with those blue eyes that could stop her thoughts cold.
She should not have been locked up in the same space with this man. Because the idea of disabling him and leaving him behind, scooting out with Luis, had turned her gut.
That was a big fat N.O. to her boss’s great suggestion. Unlike the military, she had the right to improvise.
There had to be another way to disentangle Luis from this man and leave him breathing. But first, she had to get him to trust her.
So she’d gotten up from her chair, let him take the seat, then walked into the kitchen and made him some coffee.
Delivered it with an arm over his shoulder, a whisper in his ear. “Keep us safe, Frogman.”
Then she’d patted his shoulder and headed to the sofa.
Maybe she shouldn’t have disabled his walkie. Desperate move to control the situation.
She didn’t know when she’d fallen asleep—maybe she trusted him too much—but she woke four hours later covered in a blanket, the sun streaming into the tall windows of the main room.
Aw .
The smell of breakfast cooking in the kitchen made her rouse.
She discovered Luis seated at the table, Stein at the stove, scrambling eggs.
“What’s going on?”
“Coffee?” He set a cup in front of her, returning her earlier favor.
“Thanks.”
He met her gaze, and maybe he had a game of his own, because his eyes had turned a deep, husky blue. And maybe she was tired too, because his smile reached in like the morning sun and hit places inside that weren’t ready for light.
She didn’t need caring for. Protection. Help.
She lifted the coffee, sipped, and glanced at Luis. “You all right?”
He was early thirties, a few years older than her. And he seemed rattled, holding his coffee cup with both hands.
Stein handed him a plate of eggs. “Eat. You’ll feel better.” Then he gestured to Emberly to follow him to the next room.
“What?” She kept her voice at a whisper.
“My walkie isn’t working. And my burner is dead. I need to get a charger and connect with them.”
“Fine—”
He cocked his head. “I’m not leaving him here with you.”
“Thanks for the trust.” She took a sip of coffee, winked.
His mouth opened.
“Just kidding. I wouldn’t trust me either, Frogman. So, what’s the plan?”
“We need to take him with us.”
“Shopping?”
“We’ll make it look like we’re tourists. Out for a stroll on the square. I found clothes in the closets.”
“Convenient.” But she sighed. “Fine. But he’s not going with us. Go find something to wear. Add a hat. I’ll take care of Luis. I’ll lock him in his room. He’s not going anywhere. We go out, we come back, no detours.”
“You’re so much fun.” He smirked.
She pressed past him into the kitchen.
And that’s when things had started to careen off the rails?—
Now she sat up. Outside the vault, in the main area the elevator moved—the sound of the motors whirring against the concrete chamber, like a hum.
Emberly got to her feet. She had to leave now. Whether up or down, the lift was in motion, which meant it was between floors.
She’d already secured the hard drive into the sealed pouch in her wet-suit pants, still soggy but drying. As was her dive shirt. She’d left her fins, her mask, and her tank in the chamber below.
Swimming in through the smugglers’ river had been too easy. Clearly Stein and his security team needed to up their game.
The manual override key hung in a panel near the door, and she turned it. The electrical panel died and disengaged the lock. Pulling the lever on the door, she pushed.
The heavy metal door moved, and she stepped out into the space. Barren, just her light flickering on the cement floor.
And there, in the space, the cables moved, lowering the box.
Never mind closing the vault, she dove for the opening, sliding into the space. She landed on the mechanism at the bottom, eyed the opening to the tunnel. What if the lift was headed all the way to the bottom?
Flattening herself against the floor, she braced herself. Being trapped under a lift didn’t seem any better than being trapped in a vault, and what came down had to go up?—
Except the box stopped at the floor above. And as she leaped for the dark opening to the cavern, a word of discovery sounded from above her.
Yeah, sorry to leave such a mess.
She rolled onto the floor, then headed for the door. So much for their lock change—she’d brought in her own lock-picking device, a.k.a., a small detasheet she’d used to destroy the lock on the metal door. Now the door hung half open, darkness beyond, outside the glow of her headlamp.
Behind her, the lift hummed, churning to life.
She scampered down the stairs, her feet slick on the steps. Last thing she needed was to land on her backside and roll her way to the bottom.
Not when she was so very, very close to freedom.
“Hey!”
The lift must have landed. She hit the cavern floor, grabbed her mask, and threw her inflated BCD in the water. No time to turn off her headlamp— shoot!
She swiped up her fins.
“Phoenix!”
The name stopped her, jarring through her.
She’d liked that code name. Liked who she’d been, with him back in Krakow.
What if ? —
No.
Footsteps barreled down the steps. “Stop!”
She slipped on her mask and slid into the water, holding her fins. Took a breath, sank, and slipped on one fin, then the next.
Surfaced.
And he was right there, in the full beam of her light.
Frogman.
Mr. East of Eden, standing on the side of good, drawing a line, his hand on his hips, his blue eyes fierce.
Still possessing the same stun power he had back in Krakow when?—
No. He was the enemy. Or had to be, today. Especially now that he worked for Declan Stone.
“Phoenix!”
She turned away, searching for her BCD. Just get under the water ? —
It floated a few lengths away. She lunged for it.
A splash hit the water, and just as she grabbed her vest, he reached for her.
She turned, slammed the heel of her hand into his face.
He grabbed her mask, pushed it askew.
She hit him again, kicking hard?—
Then the mountain trembled.
He had her by her dive jacket now, his grip a vice. Her other hand clung to the floating BCD attached to her tank.
The cave shuddered, then rocks began to fall.
What—
He pulled her toward the edge. More rocks falling, this time from the top of the stairs. She thrashed in the water, kicking away, and they went under.
Then the entire cave seemed to convulse, and suddenly, he was no longer fighting her.
He was pulling her up, kicking to survive.
She surfaced, rocks spilling down around them.
“Get to the side!” He pushed her away from the tunnel, toward the other edge where her light illuminated a small landing, probably carved out for the smugglers’ boats.
She turned, gripped the ledge, her hand on the body strap of her floating BCD.
And then Stein braced his body around hers, gripping the edges of the lip of the rock with his hands, his breath in her ear. “Stay afloat.”
Right.
She held on as the mountain seemed to collapse around them, as the world shivered, as Stein’s body trapped her against the rocky edge.
And despite the terror, despite the darkness and the world crumbling around her, she was right back on the cobbled streets of Krakow, Stein’s arms around her as he hid them from local police.
In an alleyway.
Probably kissing him hadn’t been necessary. But she’d needed to disable that cell phone he’d just purchased, which meant creating a diversion to pickpocket him and...
And maybe she’d gotten too into that role. Because as he protected her in the tunnel, her stupid thoughts went to the way he’d reacted when she kissed him.
Surprised.
Then, of course, being the made-for-action guy that he was, he’d gone all in, kissing her back, surrendering to the look she’d seen in his eyes.
Yes, she’d felt the spark too, the lines blurring between them for a moment as she lifted the cell from his pocket and dropped it into her own.
He’d tasted sweet, smelled of the shower he’d taken while she slept, and for the briefest of moments, she’d let herself sink into his arms.
Not that she’d stayed there. But the what-ifs had tiptoed into her head the moment he’d appeared in street clothes, an everyday, not-so-everyday guy in a pair of jeans, boots, a T-shirt, and a baseball hat.
He’d made borrowed clothes look like they’d been made just for him. She’d changed into jeans and a blouse, knotting it at the waist, rolling up the sleeves.
Just a couple of tourists out to buy a cell phone. And when he’d taken her hand...
Yeah, kissing him had felt like a moment out of time, a fairytale snapshot. Created a sense that someday, maybe...
And it all came back to her as the world collapsed around her. What did that say about her life flashing before her eyes? Apparently, the only memories she wanted were the lies she told herself.
So she hung on, kicking to stay afloat, not fighting him.
For now.
Then the cavern seemed to take a breath, and she lifted her head. Light from her lamp revealed debris on the surface of the ledge.
Stein’s breaths came hard behind her. Then, “I knew you were alive.”
“Really? Now? You’re doing this now ? The entire cave collapsed around us, and all you care about is?—”
“That’s not all I care about,” Stein growled. “What are you doing here?” But he did loosen his hold on the ledge, moving his hand to her collar, gripping it.
“Seriously. I’m not going anywhere.”
“She lies. Again.”
“That hurts.” She turned then, to face him. Her headlamp hit him in the face, and he moved his other hand to adjust it.
Sank.
And if she wanted to, yes, she could probably push him away, grab her tank, and?—
And that’s what she should have done. Except those mesmerizing blue eyes, and the memory of her sins—no gray area there—made her reach down and pull him up.
He shook off the water, reached for the ledge. Looked at her.
Smiled.
Aw. “Stop. Where am I going to go? Look.” She pointed up the stairs toward the door. Rocks littered the floor, and the door had shut. “My guess is that we’re locked in.”
Stein kept one hand on her collar as he turned. “What just happened?”
“It think it’s clear,” she said, her hand reaching for the knife on her thigh. “The universe moves when you and I are together.”
He turned, his gaze on hers, shocked.
Then he caught her wrist as she brought up the knife, squeezing.
“You’re hurting me.”
“Not as much as you hurt me, sweetie.” His eyes narrowed.
Oh. Now he was baiting her. “Please.”
His pressure made her release the knife to the depths. No. “We might have needed that.”
“I’ll take my chances.”
She sighed. “What are you doing here, Frogman? I thought our dance was over.”
Memory flickered in his eyes, sparked to the surface. “That was you, in Minnesota.”
“You have moves.”
His gaze stayed on hers. He swallowed.
She knew that look.
“Stop,” he said softly. “I’m not falling for your games, Phoenix. Or Avery .”
Right. From Barcelona.
“I didn’t think you recognized me.”
“Oh, you mean as the lying thief you are?”
She looked away, not sure why that hurt.
He sighed. “I think the earthquake is over. Let’s get out of here.”
Her eyes burned. Whatever.
He still had her by the collar and now tugged her over to the other side. “Let’s see if we can move that door.”
“We could just swim out.” She pointed down the channel.
He glanced into the darkness. Looked back at her.
“Trust me.”
He gave a harsh laugh. “Last time you said that, I ended up with two broken knees in the middle of a blast zone.” He pushed her out of the water, then rolled up beside her and hauled in her BCD.
And that’s when she spotted it. Deep into the tunnel, her escape route, what looked like half the tunnel had caved in. Blocked.
He saw it too, perhaps, because he took a breath. “Oh goody. We’re trapped together. Again.” He turned to her then, his smile gone, water dripping down his face onto his white shirt, plastered to his still-toned body. “Which means we have plenty of time for you to tell me exactly what is going on.”
* * *
Stop shaking.
Tia wasn’t sure whether she was talking to the mountain or herself as she hung on to Doyle’s shirt, curled under him, her eyes closed, listening to the screaming in her head.
Please, God, let them not be entombed in the mountain.
Her headlamp had dislodged from her head when Doyle plunked her into the metal cart, and it now lay beneath her, gouging into her hip, the glow extinguished. Maybe broken.
She didn’t know whether her eyes were open or closed, really, but they filled with gritty tears—brimming with terror, dust, even relief that she wasn’t alone.
Over her, like Captain America, Doyle still braced himself, as if fearing the alcove might collapse, and given the roar of the mountain, that was not impossible.
She shouldn’t have been so brazen when she’d told Elias she’d find the kids.
“You okay?”
Doyle’s voice rumbled into her thoughts, and even against the sound of debris pebbling into the tunnel, it stirred inside her, broke her free of her internal scream.
“Tia?”
“Yeah,” she said, her breaths quick. And she was suddenly very, very aware of the fact that she gripped his shirt with a vice hold, her forehead pressed into the well of his chest.
“I think the worst is over.” He let go of the edge of the cart, curling his arm around her back and pulling her against him. He eased back onto his knees, and she went with him, unable to let go.
He held her for a moment, his arms solid around her, said nothing, his heartbeat hammering against her ear.
So, he might be freaking out a little too.
He’d put his other arm around her to secure her, and now he loosed his hold and found her face, cupping it with his hands. His forehead touched hers, his voice soft. “You sure you’re not hurt?”
“I’m okay,” she whispered. “Thanks to you. I would have run right out into that landslide.”
She lifted her head, wishing she could see him, but the pitch darkness gave nothing away.
His breath puffed against her cheek. “It was all just... I don’t know. Instinct, maybe.” He pulled her again to himself, and she imagined him closing his beautiful eyes, possibly reliving that moment.
“Good thing you listen to your gut,” she said and sort of expected a chuckle or something.
Nothing.
And then—“Doyle, are you hurt?”
“I think I cut my leg getting into the cart, because it burns, but it’s probably not a big deal.” He pushed her away. “The bigger issue is... how are we going to get out of here?”
He pulled the backpack off and dug around, and in a moment, light flickered on. His Maglite. It illuminated the alcove, the cart, and the debris in the tunnel. It had sounded worse than it was, at least at first glance.
When he pointed the light toward where they’d come in, however, she saw the entrance filled with a cascade of rocks.
So, “Not that way,” she said.
“Right.”
“But isn’t this the cart we saw this morning, when we searched the tunnel?”
He stared at her, and a smile edged his mouth. “Yeah, I think it is.”
She met his eyes, and an emotion flickered in them—maybe hope, maybe respect.
Maybe something more, because suddenly she saw herself in his gaze, disheveled, dirty, even scared, but... not alone.
Not forgotten. And she blamed that—along with the fear, the panic, even the relief—for the fact that she grabbed his shirt and pulled him down to herself, for the fact that she leaned up and kissed him.
He didn’t move at first, and she didn’t care. She held on to him and the kiss and?—
And then he broke free of his shock and came alive to her touch. He wrapped one strong hand around her neck, held her there, and kissed her back. He seemed urgent, and perhaps also full of fear and relief and panic. And there was a hunger in his touch as if...
As if he’d discovered that he, too, wasn’t alone.
He tasted of heat and sweat and even strength, a surety she wanted to cling to, and she softened her mouth, closed her eyes, and let him take over.
Let him taste her desperation, her fear, her relief too.
Could be this was a panic kiss, the kind of kiss that told them they would survive. That they were in this together.
Partners.
She wasn’t a fool, though, and even as she wanted to give way to the crazy impulse that surged inside her—the one that said maybe —she remembered his words on the beach. “Juliet will always be with me.”
Right.
And then her own words in the tunnel— “Probably like how you looked at Juliet.”
She was kidding herself to think that she could replace his true love. And she wouldn’t be the second choice. Not again. Even to a memory.
She wanted to be the One.
But for now, right now, she had him, so she kissed him with the same ardor that he kissed her with, needing whatever piece of him that he could give her.
He finally lifted his head, breathing hard, and met her eyes. She held his gaze and offered a tiny smile. “Okay then.”
He raised an eyebrow.
“Ready to get out of here?”
He nodded, backed away, his gaze still on her.
Aw, and now she had to fix it. “Thank you for saving me.”
He swallowed, frowned.
“Doyle. Don’t let your brain get tangled up with this. I just... panicked. Maybe got carried away. But I’m good now. You?”
He seemed to sigh then, relieved perhaps, and he nodded. “Right. Yeah.” And then he smiled and winked, and why had she said that?
It didn’t matter. He found his footing and climbed out of the cart, extending his hand to help her out.
She managed on her own but grabbed on to his arm to steady herself. Dust still clogged the air. “I hope... the kids...”
“Let’s get out of here, and then we’ll figure out how to circle back and locate them,” Doyle said, and yes, that made sense.
He took her hand, squeezing, and she squeezed back as they headed down the tunnel toward the opening to the sea. Please let it not be blocked...
But the farther they ventured into the passageway, the more the dust cleared. The smell seemed to dissipate too, the scent of the brine and sea filtering into the darkness. The rhythmic thunder of waves hitting the cliff wall beat into the night, louder as they walked.
“What do you think happened?” she said.
He still held her hand, the other steadying the flashlight. “I think Ethan got greedy and activated his stupid laser machine?—”
“And brought down the entire mountain? C’mon?—”
He stopped then and stared at her, his jaw tight against the dim light, his eyes sparking. “Small things make big impact. We don’t know the fragile points in this mountain or how his laser machine might have broken them. It feels like an impossibility, but our choices matter even if they feel small. So yes, it’s entirely possible that Ethan brought down the mountain.” He turned, kept walking. “At the end of the day, however, it’s not Ethan’s hand but God’s that directs the way of the world, so...”
Was he saying that it was God’s fault? She had nothing to say to that as she followed him.
Except, a question dogged her. “If it is God’s hand that brought down the mountain... I mean, how can we trust a God who brings disaster?”
He glanced over at her. Stopped again. “We see God in the here and now and judge his actions against our perspective. It’s like us walking into the middle of surgery and calling the doctor barbaric. We can’t possibly see the entire picture. So we either turn away, angry and confused... or we trust and wait.” He swallowed, his gaze almost fierce in hers. “We believe that God is good, and that He has a plan.”
The words sank into her, found her bones.
“That’s what you’ve been doing,” she said quietly. “Trusting and waiting.”
He drew in a long breath. “And holding on.” He gave her a grim smile. “Because I believe in hope and truth and love. Even when it feels impossible.”
And oh, she wanted to kiss him again, to bring those words, that perspective, into her life, her heart. To hold on and believe, too, that God was good.
That he hadn’t forgotten her.
But before she could step up, give in to the urge, Doyle added, “And I’m sort of waiting for a little clarity on what to do next.”
She refused to let the answers in her heart find root as he turned and continued to lead them out of the darkness.
But she hung on, all the same.
The tunnel turned and descended, and she braced her hands on his shoulders, walking behind him as they worked their way down the passageway. The thunder hammered against the bowels of the cave.
“The tide must be up,” he said as the ground leveled out, and ahead, just like before, the cave opened to the edge of the cliff. Light broke the darkness at the edge of the rock, and she joined him, staring out into the night.
Stars drifted over the ocean, pinpricks against waves, and it seemed the wind had picked up, because the waves dashed themselves against the rocks with violence.
“The water is up over the tunnel.” He’d flashed the light below, into the swirl of rock. Then across to the jutting of more rock barely protruding from the water.
“What now?”
He let go of her hand and scanned the water.
As she stood next to him, the scent of the ocean cleared away the last of the sulfur stench.
After a bit, he leaned out and grabbed the metal line that ran from the entrance down to the top of the tunnel. Rusty and fraying, it seemed almost melted into the rock. “If they used this to lower goods down, they probably had a box or chest to carry everything.”
“And a pulley to move it up and down?” She pointed to a tumble of rock that half buried a small alcove. He moved his light to it. Rusted machinery, a broken hoist, in parts under the rubble.
“Now we know why they stopped using it,” Doyle said. He leaned over the edge. “That’s rough water down there.”
“But it’s only about sixty feet down. If we wait until the tide goes out, it’s a much higher fall.”
“Who’s falling?” He pulled off his pack and set it on the ground next to the Maglite. Then he pulled out a first aid kit.
So that’s what he’d been doing while she changed clothes back at the monastery. He’d also changed clothes but had been waiting with the pack and headlamp when she met him at the base of the trail. Now, he pulled out gauze and an ACE bandage and scissors from the kit. He cut the bandage in half. “Hold out your hands.”
Huh? But she did as she was told, and he wrapped the cloth around one hand, then the other, cutting and tying it. “For a while, after Juliet died, I volunteered with Beacon of Compassion International, an organization that helps after hurricanes and tornadoes and other disasters. I wasn’t a doctor, but they let me assist, and I learned a few foxhole tricks.” He then took out the gauze rolls and did the same with his hands. She helped tie the ends together.
He picked up his pack—a heavy pack, canvas with leather straps, the kind a Sherpa might use—and stretched the straps out to their full length. Then he unclipped them from their O-rings and crossed them.
“Stand up.”
“Bossy.”
“Brace yourself, honey. I’m just getting started.”
Oh.
He didn’t look like he was kidding, and her eyes widened as he turned her, then pulled her against him, the pack in front of her. He held out the straps and climbed in behind her, the straps crossing behind him.
“It’s, um, a little snug in here, Doyle.” Indeed, the pack squished her against his back, his body pinned to hers.
“This way you don’t fall.”
“What? You said, ‘Who’s falling?’ I heard you.”
“Not you. Not today. Listen, we’re climbing down this cable. I just need you to hold your weight against the wall. I’ll do the work. Have you ever been climbing?”
“No! Doyle, I can’t?—”
“Trust me.” His voice fell into her ear, soft, calm. “I’ll be right here.”
Yeah, because he was strapped onto her. “I’m going to fall and kill you.”
He chuckled then, his body rumbling against hers. “No, you won’t.”
“Are you sure you’re not a SEAL?”
“I’m better than a SEAL. One of my hobbies in college was rock climbing.”
“Are you lying to me?”
“You’ll just have to believe me.” He had tucked the Maglite into the pack, zipping it into the front pocket, the face shining out. “I’m going to reach out and grab the cord. You do the same. Then we’ll step out onto the rock. I want you to flatten your feet against the rock wall, stick your backside out, and if you have to, sit on my lap. Then we’ll move together down the cliff.”
“What about the waves? They’ll kill us!”
“No. Even in the few minutes I watched, the tide was going out. By the time we get down there, the water will be down to the top of the tunnel. Even if it’s not, it will only be a few feet deep. Then we’ll swim to the beach and walk back to town.”
“Just like that.” Oh, she wished she could see if he was smiling.
“Or we could stay here, build a nice vacation home.”
“What about daylight? I like daylight.”
He said nothing as his chest rose and fell. “Yes. But the longer we wait, the more Rohan, Gabriella, and Jaden risk being burned alive.”
“What?”
“The sulfur in here doesn’t just smell bad—it’s flammable and could ignite with heat. If the laser heated the air, it could have ignited, which would mean that deep inside the mountain, there is fire burning. If the sulfur dust accumulates, it can create an explosion. More, the gas can also ignite. So, if they aren’t already... Well, we’re running out of time.”
She’d gone cold at his words. “Okay. Yes. Let’s do this.”