Читать книгу Guns and the Girl Next Door - ХеленКей Даймон, HelenKay Dimon - Страница 11

By the third tread of the twenty-step decline, Mia regretted wearing heels of any type. The narrow passage barely fit a foot and the only railing was the dirt wall next to her shoulder. She had a death grip on that.

Mud caked under her nails and her shoulders ached from holding them stiff. The banging in her head hit orchestra levels.

But she didn’t care. No way was she going to die on an underground staircase.

When she got halfway down, she glanced back up. Holden’s light stick cast a warm glow at the top area, but she didn’t see him.

“Holden?” If there was such a thing as a frantic whisper, she’d just mastered it.

The resulting silence sent the blood churning in her veins. There was no way she could do this alone. Heck, she didn’t even know where she was or where this tunnel led. Those men outside with the big guns sure weren’t going to help her.

With tiny shuffling steps, she turned around, ignoring the way her brain rattled and shifted. Careful not to topple backward, she grabbed on to the step above her and looked up. In the dim light she could see the tips of Holden’s sneakers.

“What are you doing up there?”

“I’m coming.” His voice sounded weak and a little breathy.

She didn’t know how, but between climbing down and closing the door above him, he must have been injured. There was no other explanation and she had no choice but to ease her way back up the steps. “I’ll be right up.”

“No. Stay there.”

She was pretty much done with the whole obeying thing. She’d let him know that if she didn’t slip to her death.

Balancing her hands against the damp walls, she lifted one foot then the other, balancing her shoes sideways on each step, and made her way back up to him. She met him on the third one from the top. “What are you doing?”

His arms were outstretched with his fingers clamping onto the wall on either side of his body. His broad shoulders spanned the sides of the tunnel. One wrong twist and he could wedge his upper half against the dirt walls. If that happened, she’d have to dig him out with her bare hands.

“Keep going down.” His husky tone vibrated.

“What is wrong with your voice?” She lifted her light and shined it on his face.

Sweat gathered on his forehead and his cheeks had bleached snow-white. “Nothing.”

“What is it?” She recognized the look. She had enough training to diagnose trauma when it walked right in front of her.

“I’m okay.”

“You’re not.”

“We don’t have time to argue.” He hesitated between each word.

“Are you claustrophobic?” She asked the question even though she knew the answer.

“Of course not.”

Typical male. “Right. So, why is your escape route a tiny tube of mud if you can’t stand enclosed spaces?”

“I’ve been working on it.”

Now that she was paying attention, she saw the signs. The deep breaths and frenzied mumbling disguised as calm. This was something more than claustrophobia. Something worse.

She’d figure that out later. Right now she needed to get them down. “We’ll have to practice coping techniques another time. Because we have about two minutes before your house explodes, we need to fast-forward your progress.”

He blinked a few times. “How?”

“Let’s go.” She held out her hand.

He glared at her fingers.

“One step. Take a deep breath while you do it.” She inhaled as an example. “Focus on a different place in your mind. A place that gives you pleasure.”

He shook his head. “You need to turn around and go down.”

“We need to move. Both of us.” She wiggled her fingers at him. “Visualize that image.”

After two failed tries, he pulled one hand away from the wall. Shaky and slow, he reached out to her. His palm was ice-cold.

“There you go.” She wanted to give him a few minutes to get comfortable, but they didn’t have time. With a gentle tug, she eased him down one step. As she walked sideways with one hand planted against the wall and the light stick between her teeth, she brought him with her.

She battled gravity and panic and the pull of his weight against her body each time she tried to lower him a step. In her head she counted down the seconds to the fireball.

“Keep breathing,” she said over a mouthful of plastic.

“I am.” Still unsteady but gaining speed, he moved down.

She switched the light to the hand against the mud, trapping it against the wall each time she pressed for balance. “Are you thinking about that image?”

“Yes.”

“What is it?”

He was almost at the normal speed of an eighty-year-old with a walker now. “You don’t want to know.”

“Sure I do.” Anything to keep him talking and not thinking about the walls closing in.

“Sure?”

She checked their path. Two steps from the bottom. They were almost clear. “Yep.”

“You…”

“That’s nice.”

“Naked.”

Her foot slipped but his vise grip and a hasty grab for the wall saved her from sliding down the rest of the way on her face. Pebbles tumbled and her light stick went flying. She landed in a sprawl with one hand stretched out in front of her, holding his.

Sitting on a stair with her pride squashed under her, she glanced up at him. “Was that necessary?”

Through the sweating and the slight tremble of his arm, he smiled. “You asked.”

“Yeah, well. I’m sorry I did.” She kicked out her legs and hit the bottom. Being less than gentle, she tugged him down after. “Keep your mind on the rescue.”

“Yes, ma’am.”

She dropped his hand and wiped her palms against her pants. Locating the light stick took longer. It had rolled under a rock crevice. Despite pulling on it, the thing wouldn’t budge.

She gave up and stood. “Now what?”

The words barely escaped her mouth when the ground shook. One minute she stared into the bleak darkness of the tunnel ahead and the next her feet left the floor.

Strong arms wrapped around her waist. Holden’s shout vibrated in her head as he dragged her to the ground. She saw the mud coming up to greet her and couldn’t put out her hands to break the fall. He had trapped them at her sides.

At the last second, he shifted his weight and took the brunt of their combined weight on his shoulder. A rough breath blew against her cheek right before he pressed his hand to the back of her neck and tucked her head under his chin as he rolled on top of her.

Beneath her, the ground shifted from side to side. Above her, a mix of shattering booms and Holden’s harsh breathing filled her ears. She waited for the ceiling to cave in as mud and chunks of rock fell all around them. None of it touched her, but she could feel Holden take the impact and groan each time he got hit.

An odd roar rumbled through the tunnel. “What is that?”

“The fire.” He finally looked at her. “You okay?”

“No, but I can move.”

“Good.” He eased off of her. “We’re going to run.”

“Are you worried about a cave-in?

“I’m worried I won’t be able to get out of here otherwise. It’s getting tighter every second.” He leaped to his feet.

She saw a rip in his backpack and blood running down his arm. But it was the frantic look in his blue eyes that told her what she needed to know. Being inside this mud tube was killing him.

“Let’s go,” she agreed.

With her hand in his and only his light as a guide, they raced down the long hall. Something scurried ahead of them but she ignored it. Every creature for itself.

Twenty feet after a sharp turn, they hit a wall. “Holden!”

“We’re fine.” Another touch of his watch and the dirt wall slid open. “The other side is steel.”

“You’ll have to tell me why an unemployed non-spy has this setup.”

“Once we’re safe.” He dug his fingers into the small opening and pushed a door no one but him could see a second ago.

A sudden rush of cold air smacked her in the face, sending a shiver spinning through her. Walking from one dank, dark place into the black openness of the woods didn’t do anything for her vision. She couldn’t see anything except the towering trees surrounding them on three sides and the orange flame licking into the sky behind them.

The fire crackled and danced, jumping from the burning heap of the former cabin to the branches of the nearby trees. Without help, this could spread and cause a disaster.

Holden closed the door and then leaned against it. The seam blended into the landscape until only the rock at the base of a small hill was visible. He, however, still had the green tint around his mouth. Even without any decent light she could see that.

“You okay?” She rubbed a hand up and down his arm as she asked.

“Fine.” He inhaled nice and deep. The air seemed to revive him. “We’re not out of the woods yet.”

“Literally.”

“We need to keep moving, just in case one of those guys got out in time.” Holden delivered the insight with his commanding tone back in place. Then he started walking.

Not wanting to be left behind, she took off after him and reached for his wrist. “Where are we going?”

“To the truck.”

Maybe he hit his head. “Do you see a truck?”

He leaned his mouth down close to her ear. “Trust me.”

Another few steps and they ran into a pile of branches she hadn’t seen the minute before. He dumped his pack on the ground and wasted no time throwing the limbs on a stack to the side. Slowly, he uncovered a beat-up pickup truck. It was small, possibly once was green and didn’t look as if it could go a mile without chugging to a stop.

“Really?” she asked.

“Get in.”

It took five pulls before the door opened. When it did, it flew out of her hands, creaking as it went. She ignored his glare and every pain in her body as she hopped inside.

“Not the quietest getaway ever.” Mumbling under his breath, he chucked his pack on the floor.

He turned the key and kept the lights off. Remarkably, the engine started. It didn’t clink or sputter either.

With the truck in Reverse, he rested his arm across the back of the bench seat. Whatever he was about to say had him grinning, but then his mouth fell into a flat line. “Get down!”

She didn’t think. Hands over her head, she ducked but not before she saw the beam of green light flash across the front of the car.

Holden yanked the wheel hard to the left as he stepped on the gas. His grip didn’t ease as he bent down, bringing his head close to hers.

“Go faster!” She screamed the command with all the out-of-control terror bubbling inside her.

“Can’t.” He pressed her farther into the seat with his free hand. “We’ll get stuck in the mud.”

She could feel the energy pounding off him as pinging sounds echoed all around her. The tires slid and the back of the car moved as if separate from the front. With a sudden crack, the window next to her head shattered and the car slowed.

She lost all ability to talk, to do anything, when a hand draped in a black glove reached into the truck. It slapped for her, grabbing for her hair, but she pressed her body low against the seat and begged Holden to do something.

She watched him morph into superspy mode. With one hand on the wheel and his foot on the gas, he threw out his free arm and pointed his gun at the darkness over her shoulder.

The deafening blast exploded right next to her face. She saw a burst of light and heard the thundering boom. Then the offensive hand fell away.

By the time she sat up, Holden had maneuvered them out of whatever had a hold of the wheel. They spun around in a circle and drove about five feet before he slowed to a stop.

“What are you doing?” she asked, her voice rubbed raw from all the yelling and panic.

“Checking.” He was out of the truck before she could stop him.

She slid across the seat and peeked out the driver’s side door. “Holden!”

“Do not move,” he called back.

Her muscles were frozen. If she wanted to jump down, run—anything—she couldn’t. She hadn’t realized she was holding her breath until he ran back and slid into his seat.

She smacked his arm.

“Hey!” He had the nerve to look offended.

“What were you thinking?”

“That I could identify him.”

Her breath caught in her throat. “Did you?”

“No.” Holden kept glancing in his rearview mirror as he drove slow but steady through the chocking woods.

“Is he…”

“Dead?” Holden looked at her then. The terrified anguish from the tunnel was gone. He wore a mask of fury now.

She didn’t know if he was angry with her or coasting on adrenaline. Either way, she didn’t appreciate the barking. If he wanted attitude, she was more than prepared to show him some.

“Well, is he?”

“Very.”