Intimate Danger

by Amy J. Fetzer

  “I’m trying, I can’t see with this thing. Gimme the big light.”

  He slapped it in her hand and she turned to shine it on the ground and made the mistake of taking a step.

  There was nothing below her. Clancy let out a scream as she fell hard and fast, nothing stopping her for several feet. When she hit, her teeth cut into her tongue and the air punched out of her lungs as dirt and rocks fell on her. In some surreal place, she heard Mike fall somewhere nearby. She gasped for air and inhaled dirt, tried to push up, but more dirt fell, and she collapsed under the weight of it.

  Mike rolled from the downpour and kept backing away. On his knees, he threw off the pack, tearing over the ground for the flashlight he could see under the dirt, then swept it over the cavern. Dirt spilled from the gaping hole in the ceiling onto a pile of stones and dirt.

  Clancy was beneath it, only her hand and legs visible.

  “Oh, Jesus.” He rushed to her, frantically digging and his fingers grazing sharp rock and no woman. “Clancy, honey, come on, move.” He swept dirt from her face and mouth, shoving stones off her. “Clancy!” Dirt crumbled from above, pelting his shoulders.

  He freed her, dragging her limp body from the dirt. She wasn’t moving. His heart thundered as Mike laid her flat, clearing her mouth, then breathed for her.

  She coughed, turned her head, and moaned. “Well, that sucked.”

  Mike grabbed her close, sweeping his hand over her head, nearly crushing her in his arms.

  She patted his back. “Great timing, Boy Scout. The white light was really big. At least I think it was white.”

  Over her head, he closed his eyes, pressing his lips to her head, her temple. “Are you hurt?” That was a long way down and the only thing that saved her was the mossy landing.

  “My shoulder’s taken a beating this week, but I don’t think anything’s broken.” She looked at him, then up. “Did you fall or jump?”

  “Fell. You broke my fall.” He glanced around. “Look for a way out of here. They’ll be coming.”

  “No, let’s turn off the lights and watch them fall into the hole in the ozone.” She pushed herself out of his arms and stood. Her balance folded and Mike caught her.

  “Take it easy.” He looked into her eyes with the light. She flinched away and he forced her back. “No concussion.” She was bleeding from small cuts, but nothing too serious.

  “I’ve looked better, just so you know.” She brushed dirt from his hair, really glad to be alive and aching all over. Then she looked around. “Oh, wow, it’s a cave.” It wasn’t big, but the walls were concave and uneven, sparkling with crystal flecks. It was beautiful, the only light coming from his flashlight. He shined it to the ceiling. Over forty feet up was a gaping hole.

  “Got any rope in your bag of tricks?” she said, and he heard the fear in her voice.

  He walked the perimeter, already searching for a way out. He hooked his pack on one shoulder. “Wouldn’t matter, there’s nothing up there to secure it.”

  “Fortunate for me,” a voice said, the sound echoing.

  Mike instantly dove to the left, pulling Clancy with him, then pushed her behind him.

  Richora stood on the edge, his thigh crudely bandaged and bloodstained. Three men stood near him, lost in the shadows, but the automatic weapons aimed at them were unmistakable. Then he sprayed the area with bullets, half of them ricocheting off rocks.

  Mike went for his gun lost in the fall.

  Before he reached it, Richora cocked his pistol. “Don’t tempt me again, I owe you,” he said, tapping his thigh.

  Mike eased his hand back. “Come down here, and we’ll go for it.”

  Richora chuckled to himself. “You should have left it alone.”

  “You covered the wreckage,” Mike said without question. “Where are my men?”

  Richora shrugged. “There are many dangers in Peru. You see now how the mountain can kill.” His tone was philosophical and it just pissed Mike off more.

  “What do you want?” Mike snarled, and out of the corner of his eye he could see the MP5 rifle a few feet away. But Richora would shoot Clancy before he could reach it.

  “For you to die.”

  Mike’s scowl darkened. This couldn’t be all about drugs. Half the reason the DEA, and Peru’s version of the agency couldn’t nab these guys was that they moved the goods too quickly. Yet stacks of kilos were still there.

  “Or better, just vanish.” Richora snapped his fingers to the man beside him and he put something in his palm. “Join my ancestors.” Richora held his hand over the opening, smiling.

  Then he pulled the pin and dropped the live grenade.

  As it fell like a single raindrop, Mike snapped his arms around her waist and hurried her into the curve of the stone walls, shielding her against the blast seconds before it went off. The explosions ripped, the sound loud and echoing, and she screamed, flattened to the wall with him. Mike grunted as rocks and dirt smashed into his back with the force, the heat of the blast searing through his clothes. Overhead, stone and dirt broke away in chunks, the ground and walls vibrating as they hit.

  Clancy gripped his hand, breathing hard, and he heard her whimper of fear. He held her tighter as the ruins disintegrated. Mike chanced a look, his gaze flickering over the immediate area, and he saw a dark shadow in the stone, then pulled her into it with him. Together they fell into the hollow and onto the ground.

  Clancy moaned, and Mike held her, the rumble of earth and stone pouring into the cave behind them. Dirt and rocks shot like knives, pelting them, and it went on for a minute and felt like a lifetime.

  “Clancy?” he said close to her ear. “Talk to me, honey, are you hurt?”

  “No, no, oh God, Mike.” She clung to him, her fingers digging as she choked on dust and tried not to cry.

  “Take it easy. Breathe with me.” He rubbed her arms and back, trying to calm her when he could feel her quaking against him. After a moment, he eased back, grateful there was still space over their heads and air to breathe. But for how long?

  Mike swiped his sleeve across his face, then helped her sit up.

  “This really isn’t a good week for me.” With the back of her hand, she smudged muddy tears, then searched for the flashlight. Mike found it first, and shined it on the entrance. “We are so screwed,” Clancy said, sagging.

  The cave was gone. A wall of dirt in its place.

  Mike stood, half hunched, and touched the dirt. “Maybe we can climb over it, if it’s not—” It crumbled, started filling the small space. “Guess not.” Mike turned to the area behind them, sweeping the light over the walls, then stepped around her. “It’s open, another tunnel, I think. Maybe it leads out.”

  “Or maybe it just leads deeper into this mountain.”

  He looked back at her, and the tears sliding down dirty cheeks cut into his soul. “We don’t have a choice.” The air wouldn’t last and he’d no intention of dying here.

  They had to go deeper before they could find a way out.

  There has to be a way out.

  Fifteen

  Richora was gone before the explosion hit, the men cursing him as they rushed to get out of the ruins. The ceiling showered crumbs of dirt as men quickly passed the kilos out the openings to be stored again. “We take this out now,” he said. There was no need to hide it any longer. Taking possession of it would move this great dance along.

  He moved past the men, then struggled to climb down, his thigh throbbing. He felt blood soaking his trousers and seeping into his boots. He cursed the American.

  If the man wasn’t already dead, he’d kill him again. If he was alive, he was trapped. Permanently. Richora was certain. He had three of his own men still wandering around down there in the maze of tunnels and caves—for months.

  He dropped to the ground, regretting it as a pain drove up his thigh in sharp spikes. The men continued to unload the kilos with the efficiency of water carriers to a fire.

  Richora stepped carefully a
round the ruins, his respect for the place extending only so far. He bent to resecure the bandage on his leg. A rifle shot cracked in the morning light. Stone broke away near his head. He looked, the long bullet barely penetrating the rock. He grabbed at it, but another shot nearly took off his hand.

  Men dropped kilos and ducked for cover, but Richora fired several shots at their feet. “Do as you’re ordered!” he shouted, moving low and into the cover of trees.

  Another shot followed, chunking the ground near enough to him that he knew he was the target. Instantly, he suspected Salache. The man wasn’t worthy of trust. Eliminating him would lose too much for Salache. He needed him. Richora had the manpower and knew these mountains. He’d grown up on them.

  Where are you, little killer? he thought, using binoculars to search the tree line. He knew he’d find nothing, yet swept to the lowlands. The question wasn’t who was out there, but who was he working for? He remembered Fuad, his head exploding and decorating his clothes, and the three bodies of the thieves they’d found near the river.

  Was the shooter amusing himself with killing from a distance?

  Or did he have a purpose?

  People cleared a path for him.

  The security guards jumped to their feet as he strode briskly past. It was easy, his muscles loose from running with Fran. She’d beat him for the first time and it amused her. He was perfectly content with a strong woman. She wouldn’t get into his business and he didn’t want to be in hers. She had her life.

  But for now, they crossed and he was still annoyed with her call at three in the morning. He went to sleep with a hard-on because he wouldn’t come to her.

  It was ridiculous, aside from the fact that he didn’t allow women to manipulate him.

  Francine rarely did.

  Which made this odd, Carl thought, keying himself into the lab and looking around for her. The door to her offices was open and empty, the computers running a program.

  He studied the screen, smiling at the stats he could decipher. Excellent progress, he thought, his hands behind his back. He stopped at a console showing four screens, each with four divisions showing the camera angles of the habitat. Boris moved around more like an old man than an ape, his arms swinging almost childishly. Then the ape dropped sullenly to the rock.

  “Oh. Hello.”

  He turned as Francine came toward him. She was tucking in her blouse in the waist of her skirt, her iPod in her hand. She was rarely without it. She carried it like most carried a cell phone. She pulled the earphones out and clipped it to her skirt.

  “What’s the matter with him?” He gestured to the ape.

  “Natasha passed away.”

  “He’s mourning?”

  “Of course.”

  “She wasn’t with him that long.”

  She shrugged. “She was the only one he knew.”

  “What did you learn from the autopsy?”

  “I haven’t done it.” She smoothed her hair that was already perfect.

  “When will you know what killed her?”

  She turned slowly and lifted her gaze. “I already know.”

  He simply stared.

  “Boris. He killed her. Her, ah…neck, he broke it.”

  Very quietly, he said, “Excellent.”

  “What?” Again, her hand went to her hair, and then she plucked at her waistband.

  “It means that it’s giving him some aggression.”

  “But they can’t control it. Look at him, he’s regretful. He knows what he did.”

  Carl scoffed. “No, he doesn’t.” It was an ape. Its entire life was finding food. He looked her over. “Why are you twitching so much? And you’re talking fast again.”

  “You’re just slow,” she snapped.

  Carl dismissed that.

  “This isn’t good, Carl.”

  She had a strange look on her face as she stared at Boris. “Fran?” he said.

  She met his gaze. “Sorry about the other night.”

  The complete shift took him off guard. She’d done her level best to get him to come over, including every detail of what she wanted to do with him. “Were you drinking?”

  “No. I wanted you. You have a problem with me wanting you at odd hours?”

  “No, but out of the blue like that was a shock.”

  “How about now?” She advanced and Carl back-stepped, recognizing the message in her eyes. She kept moving, forcing him backward, and he went willingly. She was a beautiful, strong woman and he was still holding on to the desire she’d kindled with her late-night phone call. Inside she kicked the door closed, then grabbed his tie and pulled him close. She was already unzipping him.

  “You can’t be serious, this is the workplace.”

  “We’re locked in and aside from us, the only other person with the codes is lost in Peru somewhere.”

  “That doesn’t concern you?”

  “I’ve got a one-track mind today.” She opened his trousers and shoved her hand inside, and stroked him heatedly, quickly. She knew what he liked, and within minutes he was on the desk with her spread on top of him, thrusting away. He held her ass tight, keeping the fast motion, and when she leaned down, her hands on his chest, he was about to climax.

  She thrust on him, his dick like a knife inside her. Her hands slipped to his throat. She jerked back for a moment and he smiled, and she let her hands slide to his throat again.

  Then she squeezed.

  It heightened the sensation, letting him feel the fuck from the inside out.

  She pressed hard, and harder still, and his eyes flew open. She pumped mindlessly, her head thrown back, and he felt the strain on his lungs. In an instant, he threw her off, choking.

  “What the fuck is the matter with you?” He drew in a lungful, rubbing his throat.

  She pushed off the floor, shoving her skirt down. “I don’t know.” She started looking for her shoes. “I don’t.” She covered her face, shaking almost violently.

  Carl grabbed her arms and jerked her to look at him. His gaze searched her face, her eyes. “Oh, Fran, tell me you didn’t use it on yourself.”

  Her eyes teared and he knew the truth. “It doesn’t matter, we’re all done,” she said.

  His scowl deepened.

  “Jansen knows.”

  “No, he doesn’t.” He thrust her away from him, righting his clothing. No wonder her behavior was so erratic.

  “He was here when Boris killed, he knows! He’s going to the Joint Chiefs with it.”

  “You didn’t think to tell me! Jesus, Fran.”

  “He made me swear not to.”

  “Well, it’s clear you can’t be trusted.”

  She blinked. “You bastard.”

  “What did you tell him?”

  “As little as possible. He knows it worked and it’s dangerous, but Boris killing the female, that was unexpected. Carl? Are you even listening?”

  He wasn’t. Carl’s mind was going over ways to save this. Witnessing the ape kill would take some skill to work around, but Jansen didn’t have any data, just a few stats that could be wrong, and Fran’s word. The ape’s murder could be attributed to many factors, and he could find a few anthropologists who’d say so.

  Carl smoothed his uniform, then checked his appearance in her private bathroom, and muttered a foul curse over the marks on his throat. He went to the door.

  “What are you going to do?”

  “Does it matter?”

  “Of course, this is mine and I want to keep this job.”

  He looked at her. She’d be court-martialed. “This wasn’t the way to go about it.” He shook his head sadly. “This testing cycle is over. But you’d better hope those men died in that jungle.” They were the real evidence, and they had McRae on their side. Unless she was already dead.

  “They volunteered.”

  He said nothing, opening the door.

  “Didn’t they?”

  The elevator door opened softly and Marianna glanced left and right, t
hen walked down the long corridor. The laboratory loomed at the end, a magnificent space of steel and glass, and machinery. Her husband owned it and occupied this entire top floor, yet he wouldn’t be in here. His time was occupied for months in this lab, and now he rarely went here. Always off meeting with someone he insisted she not trouble herself over. Her spine tightened. Comments like that had gone beyond irritating. As if she weren’t educated enough to understand. She could no longer dismiss them as the arrogance of a genius after he brought a gun into their home.

  Her hand touched her handbag, hiding the package delivered without a return address. She’d opened it, though it wasn’t something she’d normally do. In fact, she’d kept far away from her husband’s business transactions. But she’d recognized the components and she knew her own silence and a blind eye made her an idiot.

  His past is coming back. He hadn’t spoken of his life beyond his childhood and she’d allowed him his privacy because she’d loved him. That man was gone, and now his only feature that remained untouched by a surgeon was his eyes, and in them, she saw an obsession with excelling.

  With what, she planned to find out now.

  Confronting him wasn’t a consideration. His distrust was too volatile after she’d seen him from the apartment across from the park. Just as she’d noticed the man who lurked outside her home trailing her. She’d done nothing wrong, so she assumed it was because of Nuat’s projects. The only moment she’d have without eyes watching her was when he was on the mountain. He’d funded an archaeological dig for Dr. Valez. He’d done it for her, because Eduardo’s wife was one of Marianna’s friends, a professor from college. He had always been generous, but what he was doing on the mountain was a subject he wouldn’t approach.

  She inserted the code card into the slot and punched in the numbers. The lock sprang, her nose wrinkling at the smell of alcohol and disinfectant. She never understood his need for sterility and it had affected his relationship with the children. He’d never play in the dirt with them. They were young and that cut him out of most of their lives.

  She moved quickly to the steel table, the large black shapes littering the surface, and she picked up a piece, then another, confused as she turned them over in her hand. She had an engineering degree, and understood the precise cuts, and she glanced at the machinery for shaping metal into precise figures. She tried fitting them and nothing matched. Remain true to the simplicity of a design, she thought, chanting a professor’s phrase. Complication breeds hazards.