by Lori Wilde
“Red didn’t stop taking his meds, did he?” Dade asked. “That must have been an old pill bottle I found that he’d neglected to throw away, and he kept his new prescription on his person. He didn’t wander off. He didn’t commit suicide. He stumbled across your little operation here.”
“Alas,” Lars said. “And now, so have you. I wanted to give you the benefit of the doubt. I really did, because I like you. Then when you asked me for those newspapers I knew that you’d see the article about the counterfeit IDs, but I hoped you wouldn’t understand the significance.”
He hadn’t. It was the ad for the Cupid Caverns that had brought him here, not the news article.
“You came here armed and looking for me.”
“I followed you, yes. If you’d gone somewhere else, then all would have been well and I could leave you be, but oh no, you had to come to the caverns. Just like your buddy Red did.”
Dade moistened his lips. “How do you know that Red was my buddy?”
“Your little girlfriend gave you up.”
“What?”
“Natalie. She spilled the beans.”
Dade’s veins iced up. Natalie had told Lars who he was? And after she promised she would not reveal his identity to anyone until they’d had a time to formulate a plan. Betrayal bit into him. This was just like with that Afghan woman he’d tried to help.
Ah hell, no, this was worse. Given the culture of fear the girl had lived in, he should have expected betrayal from the Afghan woman, but from Natalie? The woman who claimed to love him? The woman who said she had his back? The woman he’d given his most prize possession to as a symbol of his connection to her?
Dammit, Natalie, you’ve ruined us.
It felt as if someone had jabbed a knife straight into the thick meat of his heart.
He snorted, shook his head. Snap out of it. You need all your focus if you’re going to get out of this alive. Bakke knows if you leave here he’s going to prison for the rest of his life. He can’t afford to let you leave here.
“She was so happy over that tacky bracelet you gave her.” Lars shook his head. “Just glowing over the damn thing. Like it was solid gold.”
“Natalie didn’t tell you who I was?”
“No, she didn’t have to. The bracelet you gave her was the twin to the one Red wore. Red told me the story of the bracelet. He wore it all the time. It didn’t take a rocket scientist to put two and two together. The minute I saw it on her wrist, I knew who you were.”
All the air left his lungs. Natalie hadn’t betrayed him! He’d betrayed himself.
“Still, I had hoped we could have avoided all this. If you just hadn’t asked for those papers. Once you asked for those papers, I knew you were not going to let this lie. Loyalty and stubbornness. That’s your downfall, Dade Vega.”
“Where’s Red?” Dade growled. “What have you done to him?”
“He’s in a better place.”
Lars’s words were a sledgehammer to the heart. Red was dead? “You son of a bitch. You better kill me then, because if you don’t, I’m going to hunt you down and kill you.”
Lars looked regretful. “I was so afraid you were going to say that. Why did you have to say it like that? If you hadn’t said that I could just tie you up and leave you in here until I have time to clear out, but now, you leave me with no choice.”
“You’re not going to get away with it.” Dade gauged the distance between him and Lars. Fourteen feet. There was no way he could cross that distance before Lars got a shot off.
“Oh, but I am. In fact, my escape is in the works as we speak. Turn out your pockets.”
“What?”
“You heard me. Empty your pockets.”
Glowering, Dade turned out his pockets. His utility knife, penlight, cell phone, motorcycle key, and the key to his room at the Cupid’s Rest clattered to the floor.
“Ah, the room key. That’s very important. Last time I made the mistake of not getting Red’s room key. This time, your room is going to be cleared out lock, stock, and barrel, and your little girlfriend will assume you ran out on her after you had your night of fun. No one is even going to come looking for you.”
“You’re not going to get away with this,” Dade repeated through gritted teeth.
“Sure I am. Drifter biker. Soldier of fortune. Ex-SEAL probably had PTSD just like his buddy Red. You’ve got no family. No one’s going to give a damn when you’re gone.”
Dade was ready to lunge for Bakke’s throat, revolver in his hand be damned, when the door behind Dade opened. He spun around to face the newcomer.
It was Gizmo, the auburn-haired computer whiz who also boarded at the Cupid’s Rest. He was in on this with Bakke?
It dawned on Dade then that the Mexican woman who’d shown up the night he’d slept in the hammock on the deck at Chantilly’s hadn’t been looking for Red, but for Gizmo. He had red hair too. She’d been seeking counterfeit identification. No wonder she’d been so scared to find him there instead of a red-haired man.
Dade didn’t hesitate. He lunged for the kid, planning on using him as leverage, forcing Lars to put down the gun, but before he could reach him, Gizmo pulled out a stun gun and zapped him.
For over an hour, Natalie waited for Dade by the duck pond. By three o’clock she was starting to get worried. She tried to call the cell number he’d given her when he’d leased the room but it went to voice mail.
“Hi, Dade, did we get our wires crossed? I thought we were supposed to meet at the duck pond at two P.M. I’m going back to work. Call me when you get this or just come on into the lobby.”
When she hadn’t seen or heard from him by the six P.M. dinnertime, she started to get worried. She left a second voice mail for him. Then at seven, she left another. His motorcycle wasn’t under the portico, but she went to his room anyway, and knocked on the door.
“Dade?” she called. “Are you in there?”
There was no answer.
She knocked again.
When he didn’t answer on her third knock, she took the master key from her pocket and unlocked the door.
The room was completely empty, the bed tidily made. She rushed into the room, started opening dresser drawers.
Empty, every one of them.
She flew to the closet, flung it open.
Empty.
Numbly, she drooped onto the mattress as the realization hit. Dade was gone.
Water splashed on Dade’s face—plop, plop, plop.
He opened his eyes, stared into malignant darkness. Blackness. Complete blackness. Black as black as black can be.
Where the frig was he? He was lying on something hard and the water smelled dank and musty. He struggled to sit up, discovered his hands were bound at the wrist with zip ties.
Everything came flooding back to him.
The cave. He was somewhere in the far recesses of the caverns. Lars and Gizmo were forgers wanted by the FBI and Homeland Security. And he’d been stun-gunned.
Son of a whore.
Mostly, Dade tried to keep his cussing to a minimum. He’d been raised around foulmouthed junkies and he believed excessively vulgar language diminished a person. They’d made fun of him for it in the SEALs, sometimes calling him Preacher or even Titanium Preacher, and he’d accepted the teasing good-naturedly, but now he uttered every foul word he’d ever heard and then he made up a few more for good measure.
How long? How long had he been out and trussed up like a self-basting Butterball? Hours? A day? Longer? He’d better get used to it. The zip tie was not going to untie itself.
Grunting, Dade wriggled around, searching behind him for a craggy surface to rub the plastic zip tie against. Friction. He needed friction.
Friction made him think of last night.
Last night made him think of Natalie.
Thinking of Natalie made him smile.
Briefly.
The smile disappeared when he realized that if Lars cleaned out his room at the B&B and remove
d his Harley from the caverns parking lot, Natalie would believe he’d left town. Run out on her. She would not alert the authorities. She would not come looking for him. She would assume that he was Mr. Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am. That he’d stolen her virginity and left her cold.
That killed him. He was hurting her and he’d never intended it. Ah shit, Natty. I’m so damn sorry.
He cursed Lars again, sawed the zip tie vigorously against a sharp rock formation behind him. Sawed and cursed, cursed and sawed. Abraded his wrists until they were raw and bleeding, but he didn’t stop until finally the plastic zip tie weakened and gave way.
“Arrr.” He growled in triumph and leaped to his feet.
Instant dizziness hit him. His ears rang. He saw stars.
Dade put out a hand to the cave wall to steady himself. He’d once had a dog named Taser. A pit bull mix. God, he’d loved that dog, but his junkie daddy had traded Taser for a teenth of crack. God, his life had been messed up. Hell, maybe it was better if Natalie did think he’d just run out on her.
A hollow sadness dug into him and he sank back down on the ground, completely overcome by despair. He’d lost her, the shining gold star that was Natalie McCleary. Lost her before he’d had the chance to tell her how much he loved her.
He’d been afraid to love her for this very reason. Afraid that if he allowed himself to love, he’d lose her just like he lost Taser. Boo-hoo, Vega. You gonna sit there like a whiny girl, or are you gonna do something to get out of this and go claim your woman?
Dade gritted his teeth and pushed up from the cave floor, slowly this time, prepared for the ascent.
He felt around with his foot, trying to get his bearings, and discovered he was on a rock ledge about three feet wide. Below him was a sharp drop-off.
How far down? Damn, he wished he had his penlight. He felt around for a pebble, found one, tossed it off the ledge, and listened to it fall.
Six feet down at least.
What about in front of him? How far did the ledge run before it too dropped off? Which direction led out of the cave and which led deeper into the cave?
Dade hesitated, trying to get his bearings and formulate a plan.
A faint sound caught his attention. Rats. Probably rats. Cocking his head, he strained to listen. His raspy breathing filled his ears.
There it was again, a faint tapping noise.
Probably just water dripping off stalactites. Or rats. He kept listening, waited.
There it was again. Rhythmic tapping.
It wasn’t his imagination. Three quick taps, followed by three taps spaced further apart, followed by three more quick taps. A smile spread across his face.
Morse code. SOS.
Red?
Hope surged through him. “Red,” he called out. “Red, is that you?”
The tapping sound came again, faster this time.
His smile widened. It was Red. It had to be his buddy. “Hang on, I’m coming for you.”
More tapping, but lower, fainter this time. Red probably couldn’t speak. Was no doubt weak as hell if he’d been trapped in here for eleven days.
“Buddy, I don’t have a flashlight. Can you keep tapping so I can find you? Doesn’t have to be a lot. A couple of taps every few minutes or so.”
Tap. Tap.
The sound echoed off the cave walls, making it difficult to figure out precisely where the sound was coming from.
The right. It was coming from his right. At least he hoped it was. Dade steeled his jaw and set his course. Keeping one hand on the wall, he moved forward, pausing every so often to wait for the next tap. At times, he called to Red, encouraging his friend to hang in there.
The farther he went, the thinner the ledge grew. It was painfully slow going in the dark. After about a half hour, the ledge became so narrow, his foot slipped.
Rocks slid under his feet and he kicked at them. The rock fell with a sharp echo. The drop-off was deeper now, from the sound of it, twelve feet or more. A tumble off the ledge could impale him on a stalagmite. Happy thoughts.
Was that what had happened to Red? He cringed. What kind of shape was his buddy in?
“Red,” he called, and waited for the tapping.
It didn’t come.
“Red? You still with me?”
A long minute passed. Two. Three.
Ah, shit.
Dade held his breath. “Red!”
Red, Red, Red, his voice echoed back to him.
Finally, there came a faint tapping.
“Got it. Save your strength. I’m on the way.” He was on the move again, forced by the narrowing ledge to walk toe to toe. The ceiling of the cave was getting lower too. Occasional stalactites skimmed the top of his head.
Gingerly, he put out his foot to take another step and felt nothing. The ledge was completely gone.
Immediately, he tried to retreat, but the remaining rocks crumbled and Dade plunged headlong into the black abyss.
Chapter 20
Trust that love will sustain you in your darkest hour.
—MILLIE GREENWOOD
It was the Fourth of July and three days had passed since Dade abandoned her. Natalie still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Yes, she could believe that he’d flaked out. The man was terrified of his feelings, but what she could not accept was that he’d left town without finding Red. What if Dade had found Red and they’d left town together?
Her heart ached. She’d been so stupid to tell him that she loved him. She’d spooked him and he’d run away. You don’t know that for certain. She’d told Dade she trusted him. Now was the time to prove it.
Luckily, the Fourth of July celebrations kept her from dwelling on it too much. She had responsibilities, obligations—to her B&B guests, to her family. Everyone expected something of her. So she buried herself in work and for short stretches of time, she didn’t think about Dade.
But the nights, oh, those long, miserable nights where she had nothing to do but think, they were the worst.
For the most part, sleep escaped her. She would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, twisting the bracelet around and around on her wrist (she couldn’t bring herself to take it off), and remembering. She recalled in crystal-clear detail everything about him—his delicious masculine scent, the taste of his lips, his lopsided smile, the scars.
So many scars.
He was right. She was naive. Naive and foolish. For believing in love at first sight, for thinking she could have a happily-ever-after with him. He’d tried to warn her. She’d give him that, but she’d ignored the signs and she’d trusted him anyway and he’d betrayed her in the most fundamental way that a man could betray a woman—abandoning her after she’d given him her heart, soul, mind, and virginity.
And yet, she loved him still.
She could no more stop her love for him than she could dam up a river with her body, and it hurt so much. She been raised on the Cupid legend, and although she’d cut her teeth on the concept of love at first sight, her belief had faltered until it happened to her. Now, she knew love at first sight was real, but what no one told her was how much damn pain was involved.
Love hurt.
She bought “Love Hurts” on iTunes (several versions, but her favorite was the hard, soulful rendition by Nazareth), and she played it over and over on her iPod. She cursed Cupid—the town, the stalagmite, and the Roman god.
When her family asked questions about Dade, she quickly changed the subject and distracted herself with work, and when Carol Ann asked if and when she would have an answer for Shot Through the Heart, Natalie just up and left the community center.
She had her own grief to deal with. She couldn’t handle Shot Through the Heart’s dilemma. At least Shot Through the Heart had a decision to make. When Dade left, he had taken away Natalie’s choice.
On the morning of the Fourth, she awoke with a pounding headache and her heart was heavier than it had been on the previous days. Time had worsened the pain, not improved it, as it was finally
sinking in that he truly was not coming back.
The B&B emptied out early, everyone headed for the activities at Lake Cupid with picnic baskets Pearl had packed. Even Lars and Gizmo were gone. It was just Natalie rambling around the house. Zoey tried to get Natalie to come boating with her and some of their cousins, but she turned down the offer.
Listlessly, she ambled out to Dade’s room, stood in the door, with her arms crossed over her chest. She thought of Mingus Dill and Millie Greenwood and Wallis Simpson. They’d all gone to see the Cupid stalagmite and asked for heavenly intervention in their love affairs. It had worked for them, but was it simply happy coincidence? What about all the people who had written to Cupid or visited the statue whose dreams of love had not come true? Those stories never got any press. People only talked about the happily-ever-after tales.
Maybe Mingus’s and Millie’s and Wallis’s pleas had simply been self-fulfilling prophecy?
Why not go see the stalagmite? Give it a shot. It’s not like she had anything to lose.
Yes, but wasn’t that holding on to desperate hope when she should instead be trying to move on? She should forget Dade. Except she knew there would be no forgetting him.
Ever.
The Cupid Caverns were closed on holidays, but as one of Millie Greenwood’s direct descendants, Natalie had a key to the padlock that secured the front gate.
She went to the front desk, opened the desk drawer, and reached for the key. It wasn’t in its usual slot. She rifled around in the desk and finally found it. Zoey must have used it. No doubt sneaking in after the caverns were closed with some of her friends. Had Zoey had copies made? She’d have to check on that.
Pocketing the key, she then went to put a flashlight, a bottle of water, and a couple of PowerBars in her tote bag. Because Zoey and her cousins had taken the van, she walked next door and asked Junie Mae to give her a ride up to the caverns.
“Sugar, why are you going up there?” Junie Mae asked.
