Dangerous To Love

by Toni Anderson, Barbara Freethy, Dee Davis, Leslie A. Kelly, Cynthia Eden, J. Kenner, Meli Raine, Gwen Hernandez, Pamela Clare, Rachel Grant

  Except this is anything but entertaining.

  “Help me,” she says. She looks like toothpaste coming out of a brown tube. Her shoulders are squished and she’s having a hard time breathing. “The opening narrows here,” she gasps.

  “Where do I grab you?” I ask. She’s squeezed in there so tight.

  “Armpits,” she blurts out. I do as she asks and reach under, my fingers digging into the soft flesh of her ribs, armpits and breasts. My singular goal is to get her out of there, so I grab as hard as I can and pull.

  She comes flying out and topples into me. We crash to the ground and the candle goes flying.

  Into my hair.

  For a brief moment the entire room is illuminated by a brilliance that is captivating. And then the burning begins. White hot light and flame surrounds my neck. I can’t breathe. I’m inhaling heat.

  “CARRIE!” Allie screams. She reaches into the hole and pulls out a tiny backpack. There’s a water bottle.

  “Don’t waste the water,” I say, and then I crumple to the ground, my last vision of my eyelashes feeling like they’re hot needles.

  Chapter Sixty-One

  I wake up to wetness everywhere and the glow of a cell phone screen.

  “No signal. No signal,” Allie is muttering to herself as she types on the phone. “Please let the text go through.”

  “Allie? What are you doing here?” I moan. I’m covered in a wet tablecloth. I look around the room. There’s a stand-up flashlight and Allie’s phone casts the blue glow.

  I look at Amy. She’s breathing steadily, slumped at a weird angle.

  “C’mon, Chase. C’mon.” She’s muttering under her breath.

  Bzzzz.

  “Yes!” she gasps. Then she looks at me. “Oh, God, Carrie. Chase knows I found you now. We’re getting you—” she looks at Amy “—and her out of here.”

  My head feels like someone put it in a spin-dry machine. “What are you doing here?”

  She reaches up and touches my head. If feels like one big rug burn. I lift my hand to the top of my head.

  It’s like I have a big Brillo pad up there.

  “What happened to my hair? Why were you in that hole in the wall? What do you mean, Chase knows I’m here? Allie, what is happening!” My voice goes high with hysteria. “Where’s Mark?”

  “Calm down,” she replies in a soothing voice. As she tucks her phone in her back pocket, I see the outline of a gun along her hip. It’s tiny, no bigger than her hand.

  A thrill slides through my body.

  We have an actual chance of getting out of here alive.

  I slump against the wall. She takes the wet tablecloth and pats at my head.

  “How did you know where I was?” I ask, incredulous.

  “Wait.” Her voice is clipped as she reaches into her back pocket and types furiously. Then she returns her attention to me. She’s shaking like crazy. She must be terrified.

  “Carrie,” Amy groans. She turns over, right onto her open wound, then flails onto her back. She’s snoring in seconds.

  Allie’s eyes take her in. “She’s bad, isn’t she?”

  I just nod.

  “Okay, I have to say this fast, because we need to move fast. I went out to my car and you left your backpack there. I came right straight back into the coffee shop and you were gone. I texted you—no answer. I texted Mark, then Chase. Chase called Mark, who didn’t answer. It was so weird that you didn’t reply. So I started talking with Mikey.”

  “Oh, God,” I groan.

  “And he was so jittery and nervous that I immediately called Chase and told him something was wrong. Very wrong. And that’s when Chase told me to go straight to the police station.”

  “And?”

  “And I got there and heard Mark screaming at the police chief. They were arresting him for some guy’s murder.”

  “Murder?”

  “You know a guy named Eric Horner? Because he was found dead this morning. In Mark’s house.”

  “WHAT?”

  “Look,” she says quickly, reaching for her phone again. “It all happened so fast. Mark saw me and pulled me aside. Told me to call his friend Drew. I called Drew, Drew called Chase, and Chase flew up here on his bike. Left his internship interview in a rush.” She frowns.

  “But how did you get in here? In the storage space? How on earth did you figure out I was in here?”

  “I’m not sure about all the details,” she says with a frown. “But Drew and Chase looked at those blueprints Mark had. Plus, Mark said he got a letter from your dad—”

  “My dad? My dad is dead, Allie!” Am I hallucinating this? I pinch myself. I feel pain.

  Nope. Not hallucinating.

  She holds her hands up like she’s defending herself, palms out. “Hey. Don’t shoot the messenger. I’m just telling you what I know.”

  “Okay.”

  “And so Mark figured out that there was some kind of underground tunnel between the chemistry building on campus and this bar. It’s about a tenth of a mile.”

  “You crawled a tenth of a mile through that thing?”

  “Yeah.”

  “Why?”

  She looks at me in shock. “To save you. Mark saved my life. Now it’s time to make sure El Brujo can’t get anyone else. Ever. Especially you. It’s killing Mark to know you’re missing and he’s stuck in the police station being charged for a crime he didn’t commit.”

  “But…but…what?” It’s all too much. I feel myself shutting down.

  She grabs my shoulders. “Listen. We have a plan. Me and Chase. I dragged a rope the entire way, and he and Drew are on the other end. They’re both big guys and too big to fit in the pipe. But you’re small enough.” She looks over at Amy. “So is she. But she only has one arm, and you have to crawl.”

  A little more of me dies inside.

  “The guys can pull and we can crawl. Is anyone else in here?”

  “Anyone else?”

  “Mark said they’re moving groups of women by the van load.”

  I go numb. “Frenchie,” I whisper.

  Allie freezes, her eyes going big as twin moons. “What?”

  “Frenchie. He was here.”

  “He was here?” She looks like she’s about to faint.

  “Yes. With Claudia, the dean’s—er, El Brujo’s—daughter. He was complaining about a ‘shipment’ not being on time.”

  “When? When was that, Carrie?” Her voice fills with panic. She grabs her phone and types again. Waits. Gets a text back.

  “I don’t know. I have no sense of time. What time is it?” I ask.

  “No, Chase,” she mutters as she focuses on her phone. “You won’t fit in the pipe.”

  “He wants to come in here?”

  “Chase is ready to dig his way in here with his bare hands,” she says with a small laugh. “If Frenchie is here, we’re in more danger than we thought.”

  “More danger?” I ask. “MORE danger? There’s MORE danger than being trapped and knowing they’re coming to take me and Amy and cut our limbs off?”

  She looks chastened. “That’s a good point.” She winces, rubbing her scarred arm. “But you don’t know how bad Frenchie can be.”

  It occurs to me that Allie knows exactly how I feel right now.

  Bzzzzz.

  She looks at her phone and nearly starts crying. Her lip trembles.

  “Chase says he and Drew are ready. Let’s get started.”

  “Amy first.”

  Her eyes go wide. “Are you sure? Mark insisted that we rescue you first. No exceptions.”

  “Mark isn’t here and Mark isn’t in charge. Amy’s going first,” I demand.

  We half-drag, half-carry Amy over to the hole. In a bizarre moment of increasing hysteria, it occurs to me that it will be easier for her to fit through the pipe with only one arm.

  “Amy! Amy!” I shake her to consciousness. Her eyes are half dead.

  “What?”

  “We’re getting you
out of here.” I turn to Allie. “Tell Chase he has to call 911 and get them there right away.”

  Allie bites her lower lip and makes a face. “I’m afraid we can’t do that.”

  “Why not?”

  “Because Mark said we have to wait to do anything public until we’re all safe.”

  “Why?” Amy leans against me. She’s on fire. The infection’s in her blood and she’s in mortal danger.

  “Because he thinks Chief Cummings and half the town is part of El Brujo’s operation.”

  Mikey. I think about Mikey’s face and wonder who, exactly, is involved with the dean—El Brujo—and who isn’t.

  Everyone I trust needs to be re-evaluated, don’t they? Trust is a luxury now. I have to get out of here, and then I’ll worry about it. Can’t worry when you’re dead.

  Or can you? The thought of my dad’s letters floats through my mind like seeds on the wind.

  Oh, Daddy.

  I wish we could have saved you.

  Save yourself, honey, he answers. That’s Daddy’s voice, deep and strong, tight and intense.

  I jerk, my head twisting, the searing pain of my burned neck bringing me back to reality.

  I heard him.

  It was as if he was right here.

  And he’s right.

  I have to save myself.

  Chapter Sixty-Two

  “Let’s tie the rope around her waist. Can Chase and Drew pull her?” Amy alternates between being able to move on her own and going limp.

  “I can’t do this,” she says, weeping. “You both get out of here before the butcher comes back. Get out while you can. You can crawl and—”

  “I’m not leaving you,” I say. My voice goes to a timbre I didn’t know I have. It’s the sound of determination. “You are going to live. So am I.”

  Amy holds up her one, working pinkie. “Pinkie promise?”

  I close my finger around hers and hold it steady. “Pinkie promise. I swear.”

  She gives me a sick smile.

  “Get in.” I lift her up, shoving my shoulder against her ass. Amy only has one arm but she uses it to climb up.

  “Wait,” she says, turning and looking at Allie. “What do I do?”

  Allie finishes tying the rope around her ribs. “Chase and Drew will pull. You use your arms—er, arm—and your knees and feet as much as you can.”

  “Can’t we all just crawl out?” I ask.

  “No. Not enough oxygen in there if all three of us go at once. I suggested that and Drew shot me down. Said we could get halfway up and pass out.”

  “Oh.” My stomach roils and I start retching.

  We lift Amy in and Allie texts Chase. The phone buzzes, then I feel the rope go tight.

  Amy starts to move in and makes a horrible gurgle of pain.

  We gently nudge her. Her feet disappear into the darkness of the pipe, and then a muffled howl of anguish.

  Allie’s phone buzzes.

  “Shit,” she groans. “The rope slipped off her and went slack. Chase says we need to pull her out, then put it back on.”

  I fall to the ground. I just fold, like a piece of paper you put in an envelope. I fold into myself, like Carrie origami. My mind folds, too. Like it’s done being exposed to everything and needs to make itself as small as possible.

  “No,” I say. “Just…no.”

  “Get up,” Allie says in a very hard voice. It’s so unlike her that I look up in surprise. “Get up now, Carrie. Get your mind in focus and let’s get Amy out.”

  “I can’t,” I whine. She doesn’t understand how tired I am. I’m exhausted. It’s like someone drained all the blood out of me.

  “You will. Fall apart tomorrow. Not now.”

  “It’s not like I’m choosing to fall apart!” I whimper. She’s pissing me off.

  “Yes, You are.”

  “Fuck you.”

  “Good. Anger is better than despair. You’re angry because it’s true. You’re still breathing. You can still move freely. You have a choice, damn it, and you have a man who is out there relying on me to bring you back home safe. I refuse to go out into the world and tell Mark you gave up. You will not do that. I won’t let you.”

  “It’s hopeless.”

  She twists her forearm so the nasty scar is showing. She pulls back the wall of hair in front of her face and shows an array of stretched skin along her hair line.

  “This,” she says through clenched teeth, “is what I got in return for deciding to choose to fight. You know what happens when you don’t fight?”

  “What?”

  “You don’t get scars like this. And you don’t get scars like this because you’re dead. I’m not letting you die, Carrie, so as Chase would say—get your ass over here. Now.”

  “Why are you being so mean?” I ask in a voice that sounds like a petulant five year old.

  Allie just laughs through her nose. It’s not a funny sound.

  I stand as she reaches into the hole and slides Amy back. We secure the rope around Amy, looping it through the belt loops of her pants.

  Allie looks at her phone. “Chase says someone needs to crawl behind her. Push her.”

  “I thought there wasn’t enough oxygen for two people in there at the same time.”

  “There might not be, but the alternative isn’t good, either.” She closes her eyes and moves her lips. Is she praying? Praying?

  This is worse than I thought.

  “I’ll push her.”

  “You’re exhausted, Carrie. I’m worried you won’t have the energy. Plus, I’m smaller.”

  Some part of my tiny shred of pride looks her over. “We’re the same size!”

  “You have wider shoulders and hips. This isn’t about weight, Carrie,” she says flatly. “It’s about being practical. I can get her up the pipe faster and back to you with the rope.”

  “The rope?”

  “We have to get her up with the rope, then drag the rope back for you.”

  “I can crawl,” I say weakly. But she has a point.

  “Mmmmmm,” she says doubtfully. “You’ve been in here for most of a day.”

  “I have?”

  “Honey, it’s Sunday.”

  Sunday.

  “WHAT?”

  “Sunday, about 6 a.m. The coffee shop is about to open. We need to figure this out before the place is full of people. Drew’s worried about innocents becoming collateral damage,” she explains.

  “Innocents?”

  “He’s worried that Frenchie and his crew will turn the coffee shop into a bloodbath.”

  “Oh,” I say in a small voice. “Is Frenchie capable of that?”

  She shrugs and tugs, hard, on the rope as Amy ducks down and groans. The sound of her moan is muffled by the pipe. “Frenchie and El Brujo are capable of anything. Whatever the worst you can imagine is, double it.”

  And with that, she tucks Amy’s legs up and I watch Amy disappear. Allie crawls in right behind her, then hands me her phone.

  “Use this to text with Chase. I’ll be back,” she says, her voice fading fast. “I promise.” She bends the arch of her feet so her toes dig into the muck-covered pipe and then she’s gone.

  They’re gone.

  I am alone.

  Chapter Sixty-Three

  Being stuck down here alone, but with a flashlight, water and a working phone is a completely different feeling. As long as Amy and Allie make it to the surface, being trapped in here will be worth it.

  Mikey saved Amy’s life by luring me in here and closing that door. He doesn’t know that.

  But he may have also ended mine.

  I wonder if he knows that.

  All the times I babysat him flip through my memory. It becomes a blur, like I’m on a merry-go-round and he’s standing still, off to the side. Mikey as a baby. A toddler. Covered in ice cream at the park. Asleep after I read him a Dr. Seuss book nine times in a row. Coming to me to ask how you kiss a girl. How you ask a girl to the seventh grade dance.

/>   And then there’s that face he made the last time I saw him.

  Mikey isn’t who I thought he was.

  Bzzzzz.

  I jump and look at the screen.

  Mission almost accomplished, Chase types. Allie coming back for you. Stay calm.

  Stay calm. That’s exactly the kind of thing Mark would say.

  Mark.

  The last time I saw him, I was snuggled in his arms. The ocean sang its steady lullaby. We were naked and sweaty, complete and content. The craziness of the dean’s set-ups had faded out with our touch.

  What a difference a day makes.

  Allie says I’ve been in here for nearly a day. I look at the phone. The clock says 6:33 a.m. Is that right? It feels like I’ve been down here for half my life.

  Out of the corner of my eye I see the water bottle Allie brought. My mouth feels like parchment paper. I drink greedily. I can now. I don’t have to save it for Amy.

  Amy is safe. Amy will live. Amy will be okay.

  Those words chant through my mind over and over as I hug the empty water bottle and begin to rock in place.

  And then the door opens.

  I turn the sound off the phone and shove it in my back pocket. Who’s coming? Is it Chase? Mark? This guy Drew that Allie mentioned? My heart leaps at the thought that it’s one of them, here to rescue me.

  Except that makes no sense. Mark’s in jail. Drew and Chase are pulling Allie and Amy out.

  So who could it be?

  Fine Italian leather shoes, the kind men get made for them in Milan, appear. Step. Step. Step. The toes flex down, then the heel. Fine wool, maybe cashmere, comes into my line of sight. I can see the weave, the little bits of fine fuzz from the tight quality of the cloth. My eyes focus suddenly, like a telescope. I become nothing but animal instinct.

  I have no choice.

  I open my mouth to scream, but the sound dies in my throat.

  It’s Dean Landau.

  And Frenchie’s right behind him.

  Chapter Sixty-Four

  There is a moment when your heart stops. Just stops. It doesn’t beat. It doesn’t pulse. You can’t feel it. Most of the time, we live with the steady drumbeat inside our chests and we take it for granted. It’s just there.