Silver Linings

by Jayne Ann Krentz

  “Don't worry, babe, you'll do just fine.” He went back to rummaging around in his string bag. “Only takes a few minutes to get through these tunnels. Now, where did I put that flashlight?”

  “Please do not call me babe.”

  He acted as if he didn't hear her. “Ah, here we go. I knew I'd stuck it in here somewhere.” He pulled the flashlight out of the bag, switched it on, and played it across the cavern walls. “Like I said, no problem. We'll be through here in no time. We just follow Cormier's markings. There's the first of them.”

  Mattie picked up her burdens and stared bleakly at the small white mark on the damp wall of the cavern. She would never have noticed it if Hugh had not pointed it out. “Couldn't we walk through the jungle to the other side of this mountain and approach Cormier's secret dock from that direction?”

  “Nope. That's the beauty of his hiding place. No access from the sea side except by boat, and you'd have to know about the flooded cavern or you'd never notice the opening in the rock face. The only other route in is through these caves, and if someone didn't know the way, he'd get hopelessly lost in minutes.”

  “I see. How very reassuring,” Mattie said weakly.

  “I told you Cormier was one sly old fox. Ready?” Hugh was already moving forward with characteristic self-confidence, clearly expecting her to follow without question.

  He did everything with that supremely arrogant, blunt, no-nonsense style, Mattie reflected angrily. Literally everything, including making love, as she knew to her cost. She doubted Hugh would have even known how to spell finesse or tact or subtlety if asked to do so. The words were simply not in his vocabulary.

  How could she have ever thought herself in love with this man? she wondered in disgust as she trailed after Hugh. She had nothing at all in common with him. He was obviously not even the least bit claustrophobic, for instance. It would have been nice to know he had some small, civilized neurosis, some endearing little weakness, some modern anxiety problem.

  She, of course, had plenty of all three.

  It took everything she had to follow Hugh through the dark maze of twisting caves. With every step the walls narrowed, trying to close in on her. Just as they used to do in those old, frantic dreams of her childhood, dreams in which there had been no way out.

  She'd had enough psychology in college to understand those dreams. They had been manifestations of the anxiety and pressure she had felt during her childhood to find an acceptable niche in a family that considered lack of artistic talent a severe handicap.

  The dreams of being caught in an endless tunnel had become less frequent after she had gone off to college. She rarely had them at all these days, but they had left their legacy in the form of her claustrophobia.

  Mattie followed Hugh past several dark, gaping mouths that led into other twisting corridors. Her skin crawled as waves of fear moved over her, but Hugh never hesitated, never seemed uncertain. He just kept moving forward like a wolf at home in the shadows. Every so often he paused only to check for a small mark on the cavern wall.

  Mattie concentrated on the circle of light cast by the flashlight and tried to picture the view of Elliott Bay she enjoyed from the window of her apartment in Seattle. During meditation training she had learned to summon up such serene pictures in order to quiet her mind.

  The walk through the winding lava corridors was the longest walk of her life. Once or twice she felt large, wriggling things go crunch underfoot, and she wanted to be sick again. Every ten steps she nearly gave in to the urge to scream and run blindly back the way she had come. Every eleven steps she took more deep breaths, repeated her mantra, and forced herself to focus on the moving beam of light and the strong back of the man who was leading her through the caves of Purgatory.

  She resented Hugh with the deep passion a woman can only feel for a man who has rejected her, but she also knew that she could trust him with her life. If anyone could get her out of here, he could.

  “Mattie?”

  “What?”

  “Still with me, babe?”

  “Please don't call me babe.”

  “We're almost there. Smell the sea?”

  With a start Mattie realized she was inhaling brinescented fresh air. “Yes,” she whispered. “I do smell it.”

  She concentrated on that reassuring rush of fresh air as she followed Hugh around another bend in the corridor. Not long now, she told herself. Hugh would lead her through this. He would get her out of here. He was a bastard, but he was very good at what he did and one of the things he did best was survive. Aunt Charlotte had always said so. But, then, Aunt Charlotte was biased. She had always liked Hugh.

  Mattie bit back another scream as the corridor briefly narrowed even further. Her pulse pounded, but the scent of the sea grew stronger. The corridor widened once more, and she inhaled sharply again.

  “Here we go. Paul always knew what he was doing.” Hugh quickened his own pace.

  Mattie remembered Paul Cormier lying on the white marble floor. “Almost always.”

  “Yeah. Almost always.”

  “Did you know him well, Hugh?”

  “Cormier and I went back a long way.”

  “I'm sorry.”

  “So am I.” Hugh came to a halt as the passageway abruptly ended in a wide, high-ceilinged cavern.

  Relief washed over Mattie as she realized she could see daylight at the far end of the huge cavern. She was safe. Hugh had led her out of the terrible dream.

  She dropped her purse and the string bag and hurled herself into his arms.

  “Oh, God, Hugh.”

  “Hey, what's this all about?” Hugh chuckled softly as he let his sack drop to the floor. His arms closed around Mattie with a warm fierceness. “Not that I'm complaining.”

  “I wasn't sure I could stand it,” she whispered into his khaki shirt. She could feel the gun in his belt pressing into her side and smell the masculine scent of his body. There was something very reassuring about both. “Halfway through that awful tunnel I was sure I would go crazy.”

  “Hell, you're claustrophobic, aren't you?” His hands moved in her wet hair.

  “A bit.” She kept her face buried against his shoulder. He felt solid and strong and she wanted to cry. She had only been held this close to him once before, but her body remembered the heat and power in him as if it had been yesterday.

  “More than a bit. Jesus, I'm sorry, babe. Didn't realize it was going to be that bad for you. You should have said something.”

  “I did. You said there wasn't any choice.”

  He groaned, his hand tightening around the nape of her neck. He dropped a kiss into her hair. “There wasn't.”

  He framed her face with his big palms, lifted her chin, and brought his mouth down roughly on hers.

  Hugh's kiss was everything Mattie remembered, disconcertingly intense, just like the man himself.

  No subtlety, no finesse, but dear heaven, it felt wonderful. For a moment Mattie surrendered to Hugh's kiss, losing herself in it. But as the lingering terror was pushed aside by this kindling passion, reality crept stealthily back between the cracks.

  Mattie tore her mouth free. She was trembling again, but not from the memory of old anxiety dreams this time.

  “You okay now, babe?” Hugh massaged her shoulders with strong, reassuring movements. His gray eyes were full of concern.

  “Yes. Yes, I'm okay.” Mattie was furious with herself for the loss of control. She pulled away from Hugh and turned to gaze around the large cavern as if she had found some extremely interesting modern art sketched on the walls. “What a wretched place.”

  Hugh released her reluctantly, his narrowed eyes automatically following her gaze. He played the flashlight over the scene. “Well, shit.”

  “What's wrong?” Mattie glanced around anxiously, following the beam of light.

  “The boat's gone.”

  Mattie very nearly did scream then. She realized just how much she had been counting on the reality of Cor
mier's escape boat. She fought back the urge with every ounce of willpower at her command.

  The beam of light in Hugh's hand told the story. There was a large, natural pool in the middle of the cavern. It was filled with black seawater that lapped against the rocky ledge. At the far end of the pool was a narrow opening that revealed a passageway in the cliff wall that was just large enough for a small boat. A narrow ledge ran along the mouth of the opening like a lip. The rain-spangled sea lay beyond.

  “Now what?” She was amazed at the cool tone of her voice. Perhaps she was beyond anxiety now and was well into a state of numbed terror. Except that she was not truly terrified, she realized vaguely. Not with Hugh standing beside her looking so thoroughly annoyed.

  Hugh glanced at her, his eyes narrowed consideringly. “We'll figure out something. Don't go hysterical on me now.”

  “Don't worry, I won't. A good case of hysterics takes energy, and frankly, I'm exhausted. Are you going to tell me we have to turn around and go back out through those awful corridors? Because if so, I think you had better knock me unconscious first. I'm not up to a return trip.”

  “Relax, babe. This cavern is as good a place to hide as any until we can liberate another boat. There are plenty around. On an island like this nearly everyone has a boat of some kind.”

  “I don't think I can manage a night in this place,” Mattie said honestly.

  “It's a big place, Mattie, with fresh air coming in from the sea. When the storm is over we might even get some moonlight in through that opening.”

  Mattie sighed. “I suppose there's no real alternative, is there?”

  “Nope.” He reached out and ruffled her wet hair in a bracingly affectionate fashion. “Come on, babe, cheer up. We'll camp over there near the boat entrance. You'll be able to see out. It will be just like looking at Elliott Bay through your apartment window.”

  Mattie remembered the night he had stood with her in her apartment and looked out at the bay, and how, when morning had come, she had been standing alone in front of that window. She shuddered. “What about the, uh, sanitary facilities?”

  He grinned briefly. “Just walk out along that ledge that borders the entrance. Outside there's a few square yards of jungle growing on a sort of natural veranda on either side of the opening. You can use that.”

  “What about the tide? Is this cavern going to fill up with more seawater later on?”

  “No. This is high tide now. Cormier said the water never gets above that mark on the wall over there. I expect it can get a little exciting in here during a major storm, but other than that, no problem.”

  “I see. What do you think happened to Cormier's boat?”

  “Beats me,” Hugh said philosophically.

  “Perhaps someone already found this cavern and took the boat. Maybe this isn't such a safe place after all,” Mattie said nervously.

  “I don't think anyone else knows about this place. But even if someone does, we're staying put.”

  “Why?”

  Hugh was unlacing one of the string bags. “Out in the open jungle we'd be too vulnerable, especially with you clomping around making a lot of racket. No offense.”

  “None taken,” she retorted.

  “This cavern, on the other hand, is relatively easy to defend. If someone did come in by boat, we could always retreat into the tunnels if necessary. Any fight in that network of caves behind us would be one-on-one. And we'd have the advantage because we know how to interpret Cormier's wall markings.”

  “I see.” Mattie's stomach clenched at the casual way he talked about a shoot-out in the cavern. She stood still for a moment staring out through the opening in the rocky wall. The fresh air wafting into the big cavern was reassuring. And the cavern itself seemed large enough. It was gloomy, but she did not sense the walls closing in on her the way she had back in the corridors they had just come through.

  “Mattie?”

  “I won't sleep a wink, of course, but I don't think I'll go bonkers on you,” she said.

  “Attagirl, babe.”

  “Do me a favor, Hugh. Try not to be too condescending, okay? I'm really not in the mood for it.”

  “Sure, babe. How about something to eat? Bet you're starving by now.” Hugh pulled a small tin of liver pâté out of one of the string bags and held it aloft for her inspection.

  Mattie shuddered. “I gave up meat a couple years ago. It's not very good for you, especially in that form. Pâtés are full of fat and cholesterol and who knows what else.”

  Hugh eyed the tin with a considering gaze. “Yeah, I'm not real fond of pâté, myself. Give me a good juicy steak any day. But beggars can't be choosers, right?”

  “They can be as choosy as they want until they're a lot hungrier than I am right now.” Mattie sat down on the nearest rock and cast a withering glance at the liver pâté, the caves that had terrified her, and the man who had humiliated her. She wondered what the instructor in last month's antistress class would have advised to do now.

  A few hours later Hugh shifted slightly against the rough wall of the cave and watched the wedge of silver moonlight creep slowly toward Mattie's still, silent shape. She was curled up in a semireclining position, her head pillowed on her leather purse. He knew she was not asleep.

  Earlier she had managed to eat some of the water crackers he had taken from Cormier's cupboard, but she had not touched any of the other food he had brought along.

  Hugh thought about the ashen look on her face when she had emerged from the narrow cavern passages, and his mouth tightened. The lady had guts. He knew what it was like to keep moving ahead when your whole body was bathed in the sweat of fear and your insides felt loose and out of control. He had nothing but respect for anyone else who could manage the trick.

  Hugh watched the dark water lapping against rock. He would have given a great deal to know what had happened to the boat that Cormier had always kept at the ready here in this cavern. It was not like his friend to be taken off guard.

  Cormier had always been a planner, a careful strategist who had prided himself on being prepared for all contingencies. Now he was dead. And the escape boat was not where it should have been.

  There were several logical explanations for the missing boat. It might simply have been sent to a local yard for repairs or a new paint job. Cormier always took care of his equipment.

  But there were not many good explanations for how Paul Cormier had allowed himself to be taken unawares by a killer.

  On the other hand, Cormier had been an old man, a man who had thought himself safe here in the paradise called Purgatory. The past was behind him now and there had been no reason to fear the future.

  Hugh told himself he would worry about what had happened to Cormier later. There was a time and a place for vengeance. He had other things to worry about at the moment.

  He watched the moonlight touch Mattie's bare feet. Right now the first priority was to get her safely off the island. Cormier would have been the first to agree with that. The old man had been old-fashioned when it came to dealing with women.

  “A man must always protect the ladies, Hugh. Even when they bare their little claws and assure us they can defend themselves. If we cannot take care of our women, we are not of much use to them, are we? And we would not want to have them conclude we are totally useless. Where would we men be then? A man who is not willing to defend a woman with his life is not much of a man.”

  Hugh studied Mattie. Her trousered legs were now bathed in pale silver. He recalled the shock on her face a few hours ago when she had emerged from Cormier's mansion. The memory would send a finger of anguish down his spine for years to come. She should not have had to witness that kind of violence. She was a sheltered city creature. She had always been protected from the brutal side of life.

  It had been almost a year since Hugh had last seen her. Not that he had not tried. He'd deliberately arranged three separate excuses during the past eight months to report to Charlotte Vailcourt in person a
t Vailcourt headquarters in Seattle. Charlotte had conspired willingly enough with the pretenses. Acting was easy for her. Before she had abandoned her career to marry George Vailcourt, she had been a critically acclaimed legend of the silver screen.

  He and Charlotte had thought their plans to surprise Mattie in Seattle were flawless, but on each occasion Hugh had arrived in town only to find Mattie gone.

  The first time she had been off on a buying trip in Santa Fe. The second time she had been visiting an artist's colony in Northern California.

  After that Hugh had begun to suspect her absences were not a coincidence.

  On the third occasion Hugh had ordered Charlotte not to say a word to anyone about his impending visit. But somehow Mattie had discovered his plans the day before he hit town. She had left that same day to attend a series of gallery showings in New York.

  Hugh had been furious and he'd made no secret of it. He had snarled at his boss, told himself no female was worth this kind of aggravation, and taken the next plane back to St. Gabriel.

  But a thousand miles out over the Pacific and two whiskeys later, he had forgotten his own advice to forget Mattie Sharpe. He had spent the remainder of the long flight concocting an infallible scheme to force Mattie to meet him on his turf. He'd had it with chasing after her. She would come to him.

  Out here on his own territory he would have the advantage. Hell, once her plane touched down on St. Gabriel, she would not even be able to get back off the island without his knowing about it well in advance.

  What he'd needed was a reason for her to come out to the islands.

  The memory of Paul Cormier's collection of antique weapons had been an inspiration. Hugh had only met one other person who collected such gruesome stuff. That person was Charlotte Vailcourt, who had taken a keen interest in her husband's collection after his death.

  Sixty years old, wealthy, shrewd, and delightfully eccentric, the former star turned business wizard had a passion for old implements of violence. She claimed they nicely complemented her executive personality. There were times when Hugh was inclined to agree.