37
Pain. A sharp, relentless throbbing that pulled at the edges of her unconsciousness. Raquel needed to open her eyes. She didn’t want to open her eyes. Instinctively, she already knew she wouldn’t like what she’d see.
She shifted slightly, and the resulting stab of agony took her breath away, forcing her into harsh awareness. It took several more moments to get her bearings.
Dim lighting. Hard floor. Earthy smell. The sound of huffing and puffing, punctuated periodically by the clang of metal against rock.
Theo. He was sprawled on his side beside her, his face a wash of shadows. She nearly reached for him, before realizing the movement would be too much. She attempted a deep, steadying breath. Another stabbing sensation in her right side. Shallow gasping it was.
It came back to her in fits and starts. The cavern, its macabre contents. Followed by the wondrous display of mineral reds and blues, granite whites and blacks. The witch is in the well, she nearly hummed before catching herself. She needed to be quiet, very quiet. Because…
The rest came to her. The dark figure, arcing shovel, exploding gun. Theo!
His headlamp had gone flying on impact. And the damage to her husband’s skull?
She carefully groped the space between them, her fingers just able to connect with the front of his mud-streaked ski jacket.
His eyes remained closed, as if he were lost in peaceful slumber.
But now she could make out the dark stain on his forehead.
She whimpered slightly, hoping the relentless sounds coming from behind her would drown it out.
A pause. She held her breath. One moment, two, then three.
The rasping resumed. Shoveling, she thought. Which would make sense. Treasure. The person had come prepared. She and Theo had done the work; their attacker would claim the reward.
Raquel’s gaze once more fell upon her husband’s face. And found him gazing back at her.
They remained still, Theo seeming to reach the same conclusions she had. They’d been ambushed. Were injured. And currently trapped in the cave with their attacker. Theo’s hand drifted up. He wrapped his fingers gently around hers, the reassuring contact bringing tears to her eyes.
Silently, he mouthed a question. How are you, maybe. She didn’t know how to answer. As she regained her own senses, she was aware of a pool of wetness beneath her. She doubted it was water.
She attempted a slow blink. Close enough to okay? She didn’t want to alarm him.
But of course, even now, he could tell when she was lying. A look of growing concern. He scanned her form more intently, then lasered in on her side. His attention flew back up, his expression of alarm unmistakable.
Nothing to be done. She attempted a small shrug, immediately hissing in discomfort.
Fortunately, the intruder remained intent upon their task.
Theo tested out his own limits. Shifting slightly to get a better view. She saw him wince, but he persevered.
She could feel cold air from outside. Their assailant had needed access to the alcove for their own mission, so maybe they’d dragged Raquel’s and Theo’s bodies closer to the front to get them out of the way. Near enough they could crawl, worm, roll their way to freedom?
Theo gave the slightest shake of his head.
She had to swallow back another whimper.
If there was no escape, then their only other option was to fight.
Or lie around hoping they didn’t succumb to their injuries.
In her case, she didn’t think that would take too terribly long.
But even if for some reason they were both still alive when the treasure hunter completed their task, she doubted the person would leave two witnesses behind.
Theo’s fingers, once again squeezing her own. A bolstering smile curving his lips.
God, she loved this man. From the first moment, she’d wanted him, needed him. He was her north star, her safe place, her pillar of strength. If this was all they got, then she was only sorry she hadn’t married him faster, told him everything sooner, held him closer.
His lips moving again. This time, she made out the words perfectly.
Forever and always.
She regarded him soberly, her fingers wrapped in his. Forever and always.
Go, he ordered.
Then, in a move that surprised even her, he launched himself off the floor.
Theo’s bellowing roar. A yelp of shock.
“Son of a—” A man, clearly caught off guard.
The sound of a pile of wood collapsing, followed by pottery shattering. Not wood, not pottery, she realized. Bones. Unarmed Theo was pelting the man with the only weapons he had available—skeletal remains.
She rolled onto her stomach, determined to assist, and nearly screamed from the effort. More crashes and thuds. A whoosh as the man lashed out with his shovel. Followed by an even louder thwack as he connected with something, Theo’s head, a tossed skull, she had no idea.
Goddammit. She was the one who claimed she was capable of anything. Like hell she was going down like this.
Grunting now. Pulling herself forward with her left arm as she scrabbled around with her right. Small bones, sharp bones, long bones. No, no, no. She set her gaze on a heavier-duty prize.
The impact-resistant, industrial-grade LED lantern hanging nearby.
Thrusting herself up against the wall. Shrieking now despite herself. Both men turning as one.
She grabbed the handle of the lantern. Took aim. And given she’d never have the strength to throw it, bowled it straight to Theo’s feet. In a split second he scooped it up, and as Mason the historian stared at them in shock, Theo smashed him over the head.
Theo by her side. Theo bending over.
“You have to move. Come on, love. I will never ask anything of you ever again. I swear I’ll spend the rest of my life keeping you safe. And spoiling you. Ridiculously. All the decrepit haunted New England properties you want—I’ll buy them. But you gotta move. We don’t have much time.”
She was trying, trying so hard. He threw her right arm across his shoulder. She screamed again.
A shadow passed over them both. She opened her mouth in warning as a second figure suddenly loomed behind Theo.
“What the hell?”
Detective Adams stood before them, wild-eyed, snow-covered, and wielding a rifle.
Theo didn’t wait. “Help me, he’s going to regain consciousness any moment.”
“Who?” But Adams was already grabbing her feet. Together they heaved her up and crab-walked their way to the entrance.
“Mason Carhart. Ambushed us. Wants the treasure. Let him have it.”
“She’s been shot. Jesus, and you’re injured, too.”
“Don’t care. Go, go, go.”
Outside. A bracing slap of cold against her overheated cheeks.
“Set her down over there. And you, take a seat as well. I’ll go get help.”
“He’s got a—”
But Theo no sooner started the sentence than a crack of gunfire exploded from the cave entrance.
Adams dropped to one knee as Mason staggered forth, pistol at the ready.
“Go,” Adams gritted, awkwardly raising his weapon.
Lying on her back in the snow, Raquel registered a second gunshot. Followed by a third.
Theo, she thought. Detective Adams.
Then, the blackness consumed her, and she didn’t have to think anymore.