Chapter 15
Nash had never felt more alive than right now, with the night air filling his lungs and the weight of their mission hanging over them like the star-filled Utah sky.
The convoy of trucks approached Bingham Creek Mine, their headlights cutting through the darkness.
They’d spent the entire day preparing after Amy’s revelation about Porter Rockwell’s tunnels, and now the moment of truth had arrived.
Nash glanced at Amy sitting beside him in the truck, her blonde hair pulled back in a practical ponytail, her green eyes focused on the road ahead. Something about her determination made his heart do that stupid little flip it had been doing since he’d found her on that mountain trail days ago.
“You nervous?” he asked, keeping his voice low even though Porter and Colt were engaged in their own conversation in the front seat.
Amy gave him a half smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. “A little. But mostly I just want answers.”
Nash reached over and gave her hand a quick squeeze. “I get that.”
The warmth in her eyes when she looked at him nearly caused him to miss Porter’s voice crackling over the walkie-talkie. “Hold up. There’s a truck parked near the entrance.”
Nash tensed immediately, his protective instincts flaring to life. Through the windshield, he could make out the silhouette of a pickup truck partially hidden among the scrub brush near the abandoned ventilation shaft.
“Could be trouble,” Colt muttered, his hand already moving toward the door handle.
“Everyone stay alert.” Trey’s commanding voice came through the radio. “Could be mine security, could be something else.”
They parked at a strategic distance, positioning the vehicles for a quick exit if needed.
Nash checked his gear one last time before turning to Amy. “Stay behind me,” he said. Then he immediately regretted his choice of words when her eyebrows shot up.
“I’m not some damsel who needs rescuing,” she said, but there was a touch of humor in her voice. “I’ve been in witness protection for eight years, remember? I can handle myself.”
Nash had to smile. “Fair enough. Just … stay close.”
“That I can do,” she said softly, and the way she looked at him made his mouth go dry.
They exited the vehicle silently, joining the others, who had gathered near Porter’s truck.
Nash marveled at how seamlessly the Cross and Stone families worked together—each person falling naturally into their role without needing direction.
Trey, with his military precision, had already dispatched Trent and Marshall to check the perimeter while Brooks went to investigate the mysterious truck.
“Could be kids looking for a place to party,” Porter suggested, though his stance suggested he didn’t believe it for a second.
Nash knew his oldest brother well enough to recognize when he was trying to ease tension.
Porter had always been that way—shouldering responsibility, projecting calm even when he was anything but calm inside.
It was what had made him the natural choice as Cheyenne’s guardian after their father died.
“At an abandoned mine?” Colt scoffed. “Not likely.”
“Well,” Chance said, his hand resting casually on his service weapon, “whoever it is, they picked the wrong night to go spelunking.” The street-smart brother who understood that small towns kept many secrets.
Brooks returned minutes later, his expression grim. His eyes narrowed slightly, a tell-tale sign of trouble. “The plates belong to a George Martinez. Registered to an address in Tooele.”
“Martinez?” Amy repeated, the color draining from her face. “As in—”
“Could be a relative,” Brooks acknowledged.
Trent and Marshall reappeared from their perimeter check, moving with the quiet efficiency that spoke of their military backgrounds. Marshall looked particularly on edge, his normally laid-back demeanor replaced by the vigilance Nash had seen in him during previous confrontations.
“There’s at least two people inside the tunnel,” Marshall reported. “We heard voices.”
“Any sign of weapons?” Trey asked.
“Couldn’t tell,” Trent replied, his expression guarded.
Nash caught Amy’s eye. “Dr. Martinez and a relative?”
“Only one way to find out,” Porter said.
They approached the tunnel entrance cautiously, flashlight beams sweeping the darkness. Nash caught the scent of earth and decay as they entered, the air growing noticeably cooler.
“Watch your step,” Trey warned. “And your heads.”
Nash kept close to Amy, hyperaware of her presence beside him in the narrow space.
She moved with surprising confidence, pausing occasionally to consult a small notebook where she’d copied details from Bill’s research.
“His notes mentioned a fork about a hundred yards in,” she whispered, her breath warm against Nash’s ear.
“The broken arrow should be carved on the right-hand path.”
The tunnel gradually widened into a larger chamber, and ahead, voices became clearer—two men engaged in what sounded like a heated argument.
“You said it would be here!” one voice hissed. “We’ve been wandering around for hours!”
“Keep your voice down,” the other snapped.
Nash recognized Dr. Martinez’s distinctive professorial tone immediately.
“The symbols indicate it should be in this section, but some of these tunnels have collapsed.”
“Well, your symbols aren’t worth—”
The argument cut off abruptly as Chance’s flashlight beam caught movement ahead. Then, without warning, a figure came barreling toward them from the darkness.
“Get out!” the man shouted, his voice bouncing off the narrow walls. “Everyone out! It’s poisoned in there!”
Dr. Martinez emerged from the shadows, his normally composed face contorted with panic. Another man followed close behind him, both gasping for air like fish thrown onto dry land.
“Gas pocket,” Dr. Martinez managed between ragged breaths. “Disturbed … something. Air’s not right.”
“Everyone out,” Trey ordered, his voice leaving no room for debate. “Now!”
They retreated quickly, Nash keeping a firm grip on Amy’s arm as they made their way back up the sloping tunnel. Dr. Martinez collapsed onto his knees, while the other man—presumably his brother—doubled over, hands on his knees.
Nash pulled Amy closer, ignoring the way his heart hammered against his ribs. “You okay?” he murmured.
She nodded, her eyes never leaving Dr. Martinez. “I’m fine. Just …”
While the two strangers recovered, Trey and Porter moved with swift efficiency, forcing both men to the ground.
“What the—” the unknown man began to protest, but Porter’s firm grip silenced him.
They’d barely gotten everyone clear of the entrance when a deafening roar echoed from deep within the tunnel. The ground beneath them trembled, and a blast of hot air and dust erupted from the mouth of the mine.
“Down!” Nash shouted, pulling people to the ground as debris scattered around them.
The explosion wasn’t massive, but it was enough to send a shower of rocks and dirt spewing from the entrance. A cloud of dust billowed out, enveloping them all in a choking haze.
For several terrifying seconds, Nash could only cough and blink against the grit in his eyes, his arm instinctively thrown over Amy to shield her.
When the dust began to settle, he raised his head to see the others slowly picking themselves up, covered in a fine layer of dirt but seemingly unharmed.
“Everyone okay?” Porter called out, scanning the group with sharp eyes.
A chorus of affirmatives answered him, punctuated by coughs and muttered curses.
“What was that?” Colt demanded, turning to Dr. Martinez with accusatory eyes.
Dr. Martinez looked as shocked as the rest of them. “I—I don’t know,” he stammered. “We must have triggered something—”
“Or someone rigged it,” Brooks said grimly, his gaze sweeping the area. “Trey, we need to get everyone back from the entrance. There could be secondary explosions.”
They retreated to a safer distance, dragging Dr. Martinez and his brother with them.
Nash helped Amy to her feet, quickly checking her for injuries. Beyond a small cut on her cheek and dust covering her from head to toe, she seemed unharmed.
“Are you hurt?” he asked, his voice gruff with concern.
She shook her head. “I’m okay. Are you?”
“Fine,” Nash assured her, though his ears were still ringing from the blast.
Trey surveyed the mine entrance. “Well,” he said flatly, “I guess there’s no more looking inside those tunnels.”
Dr. Martinez coughed, spitting dust from his mouth. “They’re booby-trapped, I swear. But it doesn’t matter because it was a dead end anyway.”
“A dead end you were willing to risk your life exploring?” Amy challenged, her voice sharp with disbelief.
Nash stepped forward, shining his flashlight directly on their faces.
Dr. Martinez squinted against the bright beam, recognition dawning in his eyes when he spotted Nash and Amy. “Professor Blair,” he wheezed. “And Mr. Cross. What a … surprise.”
“Really?” Brooks stepped forward. “Because finding you here, at the exact location we’ve been researching, seems less like a surprise and more like deliberate interference.”
“I don’t have to answer any questions,” the other man spat, struggling against Trey’s hold. “You people have no authority here!”
“Actually,” Chance said, pulling out his sheriff’s badge, “We don’t need authority to hold you for breaking into an abandoned mine shaft. That’s trespassing at minimum.”
In the distance, the wail of sirens grew louder, red and blue lights flashing through the trees.
“Someone called the cops,” Porter muttered.
Dr. Martinez seemed to deflate under their collective gaze. “Please,” he said, his voice smaller now. “My brother doesn’t know what he’s involved in. This is my fault.”
“Don’t say anything else, Richard,” his brother hissed. “These people have no right to interrogate us.”
Nash couldn’t help but notice the stark contrast between the two men. Where Dr. Martinez seemed resigned, perhaps even relieved to be caught, his brother radiated defiance.