The Edge of Obsession

by Diana Muñoz Stewart

  Chapter 14

  Sweat and salt drenched Sion’s brow. Hard to remember ever feeling this beat down.

  Thirty-one women. No Sophia or Rosa. Some bodies were simply too decayed to be them. The women who were here had been shot, tortured, brutalized. The signs were obvious even to someone like him, who’d never seen the like.

  He dropped his light from the face of another woman who’d never had a chance. “We’re going to need to alert the police.”

  Dee rolled her neck and stood from where she’d been squatting. “Agreed.”

  A noise like thunder erupted. Dee spun, moved like fire, sprinting at him. “Down!”

  A spasm of heat and pressure, dirt and grit slammed down the tunnel and lifted Dee. A millisecond later it hit Sion, tossing him to the ground. Something dropped across his back, knocking the air from his lungs. Face pressed into dirt, fighting for air, he shifted as creaks and groans settled around him.

  Ears ringing, crap leg barking pain, he rolled dirt and debris from his back as he sat up. Air coated with dust rushed into his lungs. Fuck, lost his mask. He bent forward, gagged into his fist. Spit repeatedly.

  With a tug of his shirt over his nose and mouth, he breathed again, trying to make out something—anything—in the dark. Couldn’t see. He’d lost his headlamp. “Dee? Dee, are you hurt?”

  “I’m fine,” came the reply amid a series of hacking coughs. A light flicked to his left. “You?”

  What good would it do to tell her his leg felt like someone had taken a hatchet to it? None. “Aye. What happened?”

  “An explosive booby trap.” She sounded groggy. “Not sure how I missed it or why it took so long to go off, but it did.”

  Her light dropped from him and flashed down the tunnel, sparkling off floating particles of dust. “Let’s get out of here.”

  Rolling to a crouch, he inched his way forward. Dee helped, shining her light across the area that separated them. The sight was more gruesome than ever, with sightless eyes and broken limbs.

  “The dirt covering them should help with the escaping toxins,” she said, almost to herself, but he’d noticed she, too, no longer had her mask.

  “Hold your light there,” he said, spotting his headlamp. He picked it up, cuffed off the dirt, tested it. Still worked. “I’ve got it.”

  She lowered the light from him and flashed it down the tunnel. When he was next to her, she pointed the light back down at his leg. “You’re hurt.”

  “One to talk,” he said. “Your forehead is bleeding.”

  She put a hand up to her bleeding head. “And my backpack is buried, along with our water, and other supplies. I’m usually much luckier than this.”

  “Well, if it’s any consolation, you’re the luckiest woman down here.”

  She snorted. Without another word they moved down the tunnel.

  Sion was already bent double when the roof and sides forced him to get to his knees and crawl. Despite nerve-rattling shifts, pops, and squeals, along with their coughing and gagging, the area had a muffled quality.

  “Good thing we weren’t in the front chamber,” he said as he was forced to worm-crawl. The beams in the back had held, saving them. His hands bit into stones and bones. He put it from his head as he followed her through a narrowing passageway. Eventually, and much to his surprise, the passage widened a bit—enough that he could crawl up beside her and stare at the sloped wall of dirt that blocked the exit.

  He flashed his light along it. Debris. Jars. Glass. Beams.

  “Look here,” Dee said, directing her light into the slope of dirt.

  He looked. There was a hole the size of toddler’s head.

  “Can you move over a touch, so I can get closer?”

  She squeezed to her side, allowing him to shimmy closer and examine it. It was a hole. Went deep, too. The explosion had collapsed the tunnel, but beams had fallen in a way that left a small opening. He looked at her. “You are lucky.”

  “The luckiest woman down here.”

  He grunted, then stuck his hand in the hole. Unbelievable. He could put his whole arm up and not reach the end of it. Thought he could feel air. Not possible. Still… “I can dig us out of here, but it might take a while.”

  “We have until the chemicals from the decaying bodies kill us or we run out of air. Perhaps three hours.”

  No pressure. “Right, then. Let’s find a shovel, so I can get started.”

  “We need a buttress,” she said. “Digging out could cause a collapse.”

  “Not today. In this, too, you’re lucky.”

  “Why is that?”

  “When I was a child, my da, disreputable banker that he was, had me dig hidey-holes each time we moved.”

  “I take it you moved a lot.”

  “Let’s just say, if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s dig a hole.”

  Chapter 15

  Dada did not give up easily. She also did not ignore reality. They were running out of air. Sickness and exhaustion had set in. Of course, her luck would win out. It always did, right?

  Face covered in sweat, nausea rocking her stomach, her neck ached and her hot breath soaked the dirt in the tightly packed area they’d dug out—about the width and length of a coffin. She scratched again at the material above her. Steel. A portion of the door to the upper chamber.

  She tried to press on it, lift it, but it wouldn’t budge. No telling how much dirt lay beyond it, so they needed to find a way around this metal blockade.

  Whichever direction they chose to dig could be the most important decision of their lives, because if they choose wrong… if that choice led them to more doors, more debris, and not to a place that could be easily dug around, they were dead.

  Panting, sliding the shovel down as she shimmied backward, she exited into the wider chamber beside Sion.

  They’d decided one person should dig while the other stayed still, using less air. She handed him the headlamp.

  He took it. “My turn?”

  She nodded, dizzy. The air was thick, their breathing heavy, which poisoned the air every time they exhaled.

  She pulled the flashlight from her pocket and pointed it through the area they’d dug out. They might die down here. Oh, she was usually better at holding back tears. “But my luck never… fails. Never.”

  Sion grabbed her arm. “Luv, don’t cry.”

  She covered her face with her hands, trying to hide her desperate tears. “So tired. Can’t. Catch. My breath.”

  “Luv.” He pulled her hand away, kissed her cheek and the tears that trailed down her face. She welcomed the warmth of his touch. It might be the last and only comfort they had to give each other.

  Sion moved his mouth to her ear. “Would’ve liked a lifetime to get… to know… you.”

  Gooseflesh tingled and cascaded down her body. There was nothing left but that immediate truth between them. The reality of this situation required honesty. Escape was near impossible. There was too much debris and chances were slim they’d find a way past that door.

  She kissed his sweat-and-dirt-stained lips. “I’m not a nun.”

  He laughed, gently against her lips. “No shit.”

  Their lips collided and greedily used up oxygen. Heart aching in her chest, she contented herself with this, as all the passion of a not-likely lifetime broke free from where it lay hidden. So short of breath, darkness tinged her consciousness, but she still didn’t break the kiss.

  He, however, did.

  He gripped her face in his hands and wiped her tears with his thumbs. “My turn.”

  His hope touched her. Rallied her. “Yes. A. Lifetime. Awaits.”

  Sion shimmied back into the dug-out area. She slid the shovel to him.

  The sound of his digging quickly followed. She reached for her leather bracelet, thought of her son, closed her eyes and drifted off…

  She jostled awake as he slid back into their shared grave. He gripped her arm, brought his forehead to hers. “Broke through.”
<
br />   He held out the headlamp. She reached and missed, then concentrated on the light, reaching again with arms that felt encased in three winter jackets, and grabbed it. “Yes!”

  He grunted, closed his eyes.

  Unable to even wipe the sweat from her eyes or put the headlamp on, she willed all her energy into going back into that stifling tube of dirt. So tired. She wiggled upward, shoulders and elbows, rocking forward.

  Panting, she reached the end. Ah, Sion had chosen to dig above the door. Good choice. Or so it had turned out. The area he’d dug was wide enough for her head. And there was air.

  She breathed it in. Weeping, she reached through the hole and her hand slapped against a metal bar. It halved the opening. Oh no.

  They had minutes of air left below. Only one person could be in this space breathing freely.

  Sobs. She couldn’t stop the sobs. He would not survive down there. And he expected her to take advantage of the work he’d done, breathe this air, free herself.

  No.

  Squeezed into the tight opening, she used numb fingers to feel the beam and the area Sion had started to dig around. Sion passed her the shovel, sliding it by her thigh.

  She grasped it. Fuck this. Let the whole thing crash down, crush her. Or let this damn bar break and give them both freedom.

  Using the tip and giving a big what-do-I-have-to-lose, she slammed the shovel into the metal. One. Two times.

  “Whoa. It could collapse. Stop!”

  She ignored him. The metal bent. She hit it again. A rumbling. She stopped. The ground shifted. Dirt poured down and across her face.

  Shaking her head and blinking, she looked back up. She had a moment of confusion, but then her mind put words to images.

  A snuffling muzzle, sharp teeth, scratching paws. An animal. It dug at a wild pace, expanding the opening, inching toward her. Dirt continued to sift down across her. Coyote or wolf, she couldn’t tell, but its paws moved with fury.

  Dada scurried back to Sion. “Coyote. Coming.”

  “Digging down?”

  “Yep.”

  He panted. “Good. God.”

  She nodded. They shimmied backward down the tunnel. She held the shovel as a weapon, ready to fight as best she could in the tight space.

  “If it makes it….” He trailed off.

  “Yes,” she said, understanding. This animal could dig past the beam, free them. Then, of course, they’d be stuck in a tight space with a wild animal.

  Long minutes later, they heard the animal burrowing down through the tunnel. Hoping to scare it, Dada let out a, “Get out!”

  Sion pounded on the ground. Actions that cost their beleaguered bodies.

  The animal kept coming. If anything, it came faster.

  Lying on her stomach, Dada hooted and whistled and held the shovel blade pointed toward the opening. Sion had inched ahead of her and grabbed a sharp, broken bit of wood.

  The truth was, the space was too tight. They were in no condition to battle a wild animal. And if there was more than one?

  Whining, snuffling noises echoed down the tunnel. The air seemed to grow less dense.

  Dada’s shoulders dropped and she focused on the round hole amid the slope of caved-in dirt, her senses ready.

  The animal broke through in a mad rush of galloping limbs and heavy panting. Dada cried out as it charged past Sion toward her.

  Madness. She dropped the shovel, and used her hands to fend off the attack. The dog barked, licked, sniffed her, moving around her in an excited bout of joy. Leaving her, perhaps not getting the frantic appreciation it wanted, it ran over to Sion.

  Sion petted the groping, wet muzzle, whispered, “Good lad.”

  A dog. A dog was here. Darting between them. Begging for love.

  “It has a tag on its collar,” Sion said.

  Sion shone his flashlight at it. The dog closed its eyes, looked away, kept licking at them blindly. At least he was friendly. “There’s no name, but there’s a phone number and an address in Texas.”

  “Texas!” Dada slapped a hand to her mouth. The owner of the property maybe? Or whoever had buried the bodies. Perhaps they were more sophisticated than Dada had thought and had a device here that let them know the explosion had happened so they’d sent a dog down?

  Sion shimmied forward. “Might be dangerous up there. Let me go.”

  A shake of her head that reminded her how exhausted she was. “No, I will. I’m experienced. I’m…”

  “Woman, give me this. Let me follow Tex out.”

  “Tex?”

  “Short for Texas.”

  “You named this dog?

  Chapter 16

  His bum leg leaning against the dew-covered edge of his car, the headlights of a pickup truck illuminating him, Sion once again shook the hand of Manuel Arturo Peña, the man who owned the chocolate lab who’d rescued them.

  “Are you sure I can’t offer you a reward, Manuel? You and Tex, uh Gambit, saved our lives.”

  Kneeling by the car, petting Gambit, Dee added, “We’d much prefer to give you something.”

  Manuel, a Mexican man with a Texas twang and matching cowboy hat, said, “No, sir. You guys were lost in the desert and had a hell of a night. ’Sides, Gambit did his job and rescued you both. That’s what he’s meant to do.”

  Though they’d told Manuel they’d been lost and trapped, they hadn’t filled him in on the gory details. During the walk back, Manuel—who’d been combing acres in his pickup looking for Gambit—had pulled up. He’d given them some water and a ride to their car, and also bandaged Dada’s head.

  Manuel tipped back his hat. “Don’t want to alarm you or put you off on hiking, but you should stick to known trails next time. Rumor says this area is owned by a trafficker.”

  Dee stood. “Do you mean Walid Grimale?”

  His eyebrows rose. “I was never given any one name.”

  There was a beat of silence in which Sion felt that Manuel very much reevaluated them.

  Dee, perhaps feeling it too, bent again to Gambit, who licked her face. “He’s going to make a great search-and-rescue dog.”

  “That’s the hope, ma’am,” he said, turning toward his truck. “If y’all are okay, we’re going to get going.”

  “We are. Thanks,” Sion said, kneeling with a groan to thank Gambit one last time. The chocolate lab licked his face like they were old friends.

  Manuel whistled, holding the door open for Gambit, who darted away and into the cab of the pickup.

  The trucked backed up, turned around, and drove off. With the headlights no longer shining on them, the area seemed foreboding. Dee was already slipping into the car, so he joined her.

  Sion glanced at Dee. “I’d thought your luck was a made-up thing, but it’s been verified by circumstance.”

  “Being rescued by a runaway dog is irrefutable proof?”

  He reversed, turned the vehicle around, then headed down the moonlit desert road. “A runaway dog being trained for search-and-rescue. Yes. Definitely.”

  All the pieces that had to come together floored Sion. Manuel lived in Texas but was having difficulty training Gambit. He’d brought him here for extra training from his cousin, an expert, who lived in a village outside of Oaxaca.

  If the dog hadn’t been having these issues, Manuel wouldn’t have brought him to Mexico. Moreover, if he’d been fully trained, Gambit wouldn’t have run after a cottontail and away from his owner, and he wouldn’t have dug his way down to them. That was a bit of hot luck Sion could barely contemplate.

  As they bumped down a dirt road back to Oaxaca, Dee glanced his way. “Perhaps, one day, I can tell you a truly remarkable story about my luck.”

  “Truly remarkable? Hard to imagine a story that outdoes this one. Go on, then.”

  The invitation to tell him that story fell flat and the silence of the car along the unpaved road seemed deafening.

  A sudden tense awareness descended over them. Until this point, they had been riding the high of
rescue, enjoying their luck, playing with Gambit, and telling Manuel a cleaned-up version of events.

  Now, all that had happened underground—the tears, the scorching hot kiss, the truth that she wasn’t a nun and he wasn’t a forger, the vulnerability of the near-death experience—left something heavy, expectant between them.

  “Maybe when you do tell me that story, you’ll also give away who you work for.”

  She swiveled her head toward him, tilted it.

  For a moment, all he could feel was her eyes taking him in. His body grew warm. Alert.

  “Undoubtedly. Since they are tied together. But for now, trust my motivations are good.”

  He glanced at her. Dirt soiled her shirt, pants, and was smeared across her face. She was so lovely.

  And not a nun.

  Warmth suffused his body. His heart accelerated. He cared. More than cared. He needed her to trust him.

  He turned onto a paved, empty highway. “Trust me. You can tell me who you work for. Whatever you’re doing, I’ve got your back. I promise, Dee. I promise.”

  She grasped her leather bracelet. A habit he now realized was tied to stress.

  “Even if my name isn’t Dee?”

  Bugger. That hurt. Then again, she only knew his by coincidence. “Even then.”

  A troubled frown spoiled her forehead. “Even if what I do isn’t legal?”

  Was she kidding? “It doesn’t fucking matter. We didn’t meet on the beach in Cancun. Or at a local gym. Or through an online dating app. We’re here in the middle of something awful. The rules are different.”

  The luck lifesaving. The risks deadly. The feelings accelerated.

  Hands flexing on the wheel when she didn’t respond, he swung over to the side of the deserted road. He turned the car off, twisted in his seat to look at her. “Even if you never tell me your real name or who you’re working for, as long as I know what you’re going to do will stop horrors like what we saw tonight, I’m in.”

  She gaped at him. Such a look, so open and raw and filled with want that his body flushed with desire. He watched as she licked her lips, stared at his.