by Vella Day
Jake pulled the blanket over her bare shoulder and slipped out of her grasp. He wanted to shower and pack for their surprise date, an idea he'd conjured up in the middle of the night. A nice picnic by the waterfall might help boost her spirits and ease his guilt.
Between the rain and love making, he'd forgotten to mention Nancy and Doug Abernathy had decided to visit Nancy's sick mom today, which gave him the day off.
His bare feet hit the cold, wood floor and a quick chill snaked up his legs. How did the pioneers enjoy life day in and day out in the harsh winter? Maybe they had the right equipment—like wool, flannel, and long underwear. His cotton briefs didn't cut it.
Jake jogged to the bathroom and turned on the shower. Hank had installed a tankless water heater that provided instant heat. As much as he would have enjoyed a long shower, he had a meal to prepare. After he finished washing and shaving, he tiptoed back into his bedroom and grabbed some clothes.
Once dressed, he left Susan sleeping and entered the living room. He kicked aside the rug in the middle of the room to expose the trap door that led to the secret basement containing all of the camping supplies.
He eased open the creaky lid and left the door open in case she awoke and wondered where he might be.
A blast of cold, damp air rushed up to meet him. The steps were steep, but the shaky wooden handrail gave some sense of security. Half way down, he tugged on a hanging string to turn on the light.
Dust and the stench of dried animal blood nearly choked him, but he focused on the task at hand. Off the main room was a smaller area where Tom and his dad prepared their game. Hank must have recently been hunting if the red stains on the butcher table were any indication.
The main room contained shelves where the Traynors kept backpacks, sleeping bags, boots, rifles, and boxes of clothes. Only because he was Tom's best friend did Tom show him the secret passageway that led five hundred feet to the outside. According to Tom's father, this basement had been used as part of the Underground Railroad to transport slaves.
Knowing how easily chilled Susan became, he pawed through three boxes until he came across some ski pants, a pair of extra thick mittens and a wool blanket. On the shelf, he found a large picnic basket, but decided a backpack would be easier to carry their romantic getaway meal.
Once he collected the needed gear, he brought the essentials upstairs. The shower was going full blast, and Jake smiled. He looked forward to kissing her silly this morning.
Before she finished, he placed the extra clothes on her bed, and then prepared sandwiches for their special date.
“What's all this?” she said as she stepped into the kitchen, dragging the towel over her wet hair.
“I don't have to work today, and I thought it might be nice if we went on a little trip. The view from the top of Cedar Rock is fantastic, and a nice picnic lunch is just what the doctor ordered.”
She smiled. “Sounds wonderful.”
“I left some warm clothes in your bedroom.”
Rubbing her head with the towel, she disappeared to the back. Jake had finished making the sandwiches when a noise alerted him to possible danger. He stilled. The sound of gravel clinking together implied they had a visitor.
“Susan?”
“Yes?” she called from the bedroom.
“Grab your clothes and come here.” He hadn't meant to shout, but he couldn't be too careful.
Jake raced to his bedroom and snatched his gun and jacket. She had her jacket and gloves in hand when he met her in the hallway. “Someone's coming.”
Her face paled. “You don't think it's a friend of the Traynors?”
“I don't know.”
Her arm firmly clasped in his hand, he led her into the living room and to the open door in the floor. “Get below and stay there until I come down.”
“Shouldn't we see who's here first?” Her gaze flicked to the dark pit and shivered.
He picked up the two sandwiches and handed her the food. “Go.”
Her fingers dug into his arm. “I'm afraid of the dark.”
Shit. “There a light switch halfway down the stairs.” She wouldn't be safe staying in the living room. “You need to hide. And dress for the cold.”
Once she descended, he closed the lid and replaced the rug. No one would ever know she was there. Gun in hand, he raced to the window and peered out.
A white Ford Focus crept up the drive and stopped behind his car. Jake's shoulders relaxed when a tall, gawky blond man, dressed in a blue uniform, eased out of the front seat. Jake couldn't make out the letters on the man's nametag, but if he had to guess, the logo might say the name of a garage or that of a landscaping company.
Hank must have forgotten an appointment. Not wanting to incite trouble, Jake slipped his Glock into the coffee table drawer.
Before the man had a chance to knock, Jake opened the door.
“Howdy.” The man's smile implied he hadn't visited a dentist in the last several years.
Jake shot a look outside to make sure this guy was alone. “How can I help you?”
“Hank Traynor around?”
A hint of a Bronx accent surfaced, and Jake's mind raced to Susan's description of the two men at the diner, but he dismissed his concern. If the man knew Tom's father's name, he must be on the up and up.
“No. He's visiting his son.”
“You alone then?”
Odd question. “Yes.”
“Mind if I come in?” The man stepped into the entranceway before Jake answered.
“As a matter of fact I do mind. Why don't you come back in about two weeks? Hank should be here by then.”
The man's pleasant smile disappeared as he shoved past him. Jake stepped back, his mind racing as to how much force he wanted to use to make this guy leave.
The second the sunlight glinted off the steel blade of the man's knife, Jake's body shot to red alert. Blondie waved the weapon in front of Jake's face.
“Where's the woman?”
“What woman?”
“Susan Chapman. Don't lie to me. She's staying here.”
Jake inched back toward the coffee table and drew on his FBI training to keep the man talking. “Who told you that?”
“A little birdie at the local diner.”
Diner, knife. “You harm Rebecca?”
“The redhead?”
“Yes.”
Jake lunged toward the man and pushed him backward until Blondie's back slammed against the wall. As Jake reached up to grab the man's hand wielding the weapon, the goon wrenched his arm downward and smashed the side of Jake's neck with an elbow.
Shit. Pain stunned him for a moment, and he teetered backward. The man sprang toward him and swung his knife hand in a low arc, contacting Jake's thigh. A sharp ache sizzled up his hip. Jake ignored the searing injury, cocked back his arm, and threw an upper cut, knocking Blondie on his butt.
Jake glanced at the blood racing out of his thigh. Shit. With the cut on his leg, he needed his weapon. Jake turned, raced toward the coffee table and whipped open the drawer. His fingers were inches from the weapon, when the man wrapped two arms around Jake's waist and jerked him backwards.
Jake elbowed his attacker in the gut and stomped on the man's foot.
“Fuck.”
Jake twisted around. Eyes glazed, Blondie swayed. Jake smashed the man's nose and followed up with a one-two punch to his attacker's stomach.
The bastard wouldn't go down. Instead he attacked, swinging the knife high. Jake ducked the attack but not before the blade sliced open his cheek.
Jake grunted.
Drawing on his reserve, he threw himself at Blondie. Outweighing the man by at least thirty pounds, the two tumbled to the wood floor. His attacker's head sent out a loud crack as his skull smashed against the floor.
Jake's breath whooshed out, but he managed to push up and place a knee in the middle of the man's chest. “Who are you?”
Blood dripped from Blondie's nose. The man's eyes glazed over b
efore rolling back in his head.
“Damn it.”
Jake rose and staggered over to the table where he retrieved his weapon. He cocked the gun and pointed the Glock at the still man. His pulse throbbed in his head as blood leaked into his mouth.
“Move and you die.” He wiped the blood running down his cheek.
Jake waited for the man to respond, but he remained still. Susan told him two men had showed up to the diner. If this was one of them, where was this man in the plaid shirt? Well, he wasn't going to wait around for him to show.
Assuming the accomplice was nearby, Jake needed to make sure Susan remained safe. Halfway to the cellar door, he spotted the trail of blood behind him. His leg was gushing red.
He clasped a hand over the gash and searched the kitchen for something to stem the flow of blood. He took a handful of towels, grabbed his jacket, and then raced to find Susan.
He expected her to cry out when he opened the door, but she remained quiet. In fact, no light appeared downstairs, and his admiration hitched up again. She was hiding—in the dark—facing her worst fears.
He'd just replaced the carpet over the trap door and closed the lid, when a shout sounded outside.
He threw the bolt to lock the entry from above, and then edged his way down the steps. The accomplice had arrived.
“Susan?” Jake whispered.
No answer. At the bottom of the steps, as he reached up to tug on the light cord, his leg gave way, and Jake stumbled down the last step and collapsed.
**
“Jake?”
Susan couldn't see anything since the room was entombed in darkness. The loud thud ten feet from her had scared her. Jake had called her name, so why wasn't he answering? And what was that thud?
She inched toward the stairs. Feet pounded above and she stilled. Her voice came out raspy. “Jake?”
Holding her breath, she waited for him to answer. A low moan came from a few feet in front of her. On her next step, her foot hit something hard. She knelt and patted the air in front of her. A hand grabbed her wrist and her heart nearly stopped.
“Shh,” Jake said.
He let go of her and pushed up to a stand.
“Are you okay?” Something wasn't right.
More footsteps sounded above them. Jake tugged on her upper arm and led her to the far corner. She tripped over the jacket she'd left on the floor, but he steadied her.
He leaned over. “Stay here.” His breath rippled down her cheek. “I need to turn on the light. We have... to get out of here.”
The pain in his voice shot adrenaline through her system. “You're hurt.” She reached out to touch him, but he slipped out of her grasp.
He slapped a foot on the first step. “I'm, ah, fine.” The bulb above the stairs came to life.
Relief washed over her until he turned around. “Oh my God.” His left eye was swollen half shut, a gash cut across his cheek, and his chin sported a purple bruise. “What happened?” Dumb question. He'd been in a fight. She hoped he'd be able to tell her who he'd battled.
“Someone wanted to find you.”
“Me?” She'd thought the Feds had come to arrest him.
“He asked for you by name.”
Her stomach churned. Jake lifted a cloth from his leg. A six-inch circle of blood pooled on the white material.
“Jeez.” She leaned forward to examine his wound, but the light wasn't sufficient to see his injury. “Were you shot?” She hadn't heard a gun go off.
“No. Asshole stabbed me.”
He hobbled to the back room and returned a moment later with duct tape. “Can you wrap this around the towel to keep it in place?”
“I need to clean the wound and take you to a hospital.”
He snorted. “What we need to do is get the hell out of here.”
As if to punctuate his comment, someone stomped on the trap door. “Where the hell are they?”
Blood pounded in her temples, and she clutched Jake's arm. He held a finger to his lips and limped to the back room. A moment later, he dragged in two backpacks and a walking stick. “Put this on.”
“What about fixing up your leg?” Susan strapped on the pack.
“We'll deal with it later. Come on.”
“You want us to go upstairs?” The blood loss must be messing with his mind.
“No.” He headed to a bookcase and leaned the stick against the wall. “Give me a hand. There's a tunnel behind here. They'll never find us.”
19
Dom paced the living room pissed as hell Ronnie hadn't been able to take down the chick and her bodyguard. He stood over his moaning partner who was groaning like a girl, rocking on the floor.
Dom's patience was running thin. “Get up.” He was tempted to kick his ass, but he needed Ronnie's help.
Ronnie would probably be okay with a day's rest, but Dom didn't have the time to let those two get a head start, nor did he want to wait around for Hank Traynor to come waltzing back home and find them holed up in his place.
Dom bent over at the waist. “What the hell happened?”
His useless hired hand hefted himself onto his elbows. “I stuck him with a knife and sliced him up real good, but he jabbed me with an upper cut. Next thing I know, you come in.” He looked around. “Where are they?”
“They didn't come out the front door, that's for sure. I would have seen them. I'll look around. Stay here.” Not that the crybaby would get up any sooner than he had to.
The room check took all of one minute. No door led to the outside and all windows were locked from the inside. Dom strode out. “They aren't here.”
He was half way across the living room when he spotted two red blood drops illuminated by the sun. Dom knelt and swiped a finger across the wet goo. “Unless this is your mess, Yarnell's cut all right.”
“A ghost didn't knock me out. He was here, trust me.”
Part of the rug's binding was bent under, exposing a separation in the wood. Dom peeled back the edge. “I'll be damned. A trap door.”
Ronnie sat up. “They got to be down there.”
Dom tugged on the latch, but the door remained closed. “He must have locked the damn thing from below.”
He smashed his foot on the wood, but the cover didn't bend. Dom pulled out his gun and shot holes in the trap door, enough to weaken the structure. He hen kicked the slats hard until the cover splintered.
Ronnie chuckled. “That's one way to skin a cat.”
Smart ass. If Ronnie weren't such a sharp shooter, he'd put him out of his misery.
Taking care not to cut himself, Dom reached in and pulled back the latch. Clever people to hide the entrance to the cellar under the rug, but not so clever they'd escape him. Those two were sitting ducks in the basement.
Dom slipped another magazine into his gun and headed down the steep steps. The overhead light glared, giving him a good view of the fifteen by ten foot dirt packed room. He stopped every time the wood creaked. Not that they wouldn't figure he was on his way down, but no use giving away his exact position.
Gun held high, he searched the empty room. Besides the shelves lining the wall and a few tools on the floor, they weren't in sight. Where the hell were they? The place stunk worse than the urine ridden back alleys of D.C. Christ. How could they stay down here?
Dom edged his way into the second room. All that graced the ten by ten foot room was a large table in the middle of the room and a freezer against the wall. He lifted the lid to the cooler. The thing was stuffed with white paper packets but no bodies. Damn.
No windows, no doors, and no way to escape, yet the Fed and the woman had done the best magic trick in town and disappeared.
Shit. They had to have escaped to the outside somehow.
He raced up the steps. “They're gone.”
Ronnie rose to his knees, swayed a bit, and then pulled himself up. “What the fuck do you mean they're gone? Is there a door to the outside down there?”
“No.”
“Then where are they?”
“Hell if I know. But they aren't there.”
“Then let's go get 'em.”
Ronnie would only slow him down. “You sure you're okay to hike in the woods? I don't think this is a two man job.”
“No you don't. You hired me to do a job, and I plan to do it.” Ronnie straightened. “I got a bitch of a headache, but nothing is going to stop me from chasing after those two.”
Dom smiled at Ronnie's feisty attitude. “You okay to shoot?”
“You can have all my sharp shooting medals if I don't nail that son of a bitch from a hundred yards.”
“You're on.”
Dom snagged a couple of power bars from kitchen and shoved them in his pockets.
Ronnie picked up his blood-streaked knife and waved it like a trophy. “Yarnell won't be going far with his injuries.”
Dom pointed to the floor. “Clean up that mess in case someone comes looking for them. We don't want anyone to think they're running for their lives and go after them to help.”
Ronnie's shoulders slumped, but he didn't argue. While his partner did as he asked, Dom filled two bottles full of water.
Within minutes they left, leaving the place almost like new. He hoped the owner didn't have any need to go into the basement and discover his broken door.
The wind whistled through the trees, and Dom tugged his jacket closer to his chest. He opened the trunk, extracted the rifle with the scope and handed his baby to Ronnie. “Let's go hunting.”
**
The cold, creepy tunnel closed in on Susan. “Are you sure whoever is after us can't tell there's a tunnel behind the bookcase?”
“No. Even if he figured out we went behind the shelves, he wouldn't know there's a lever that slides the case to the side.”
“That makes me feel somewhat more secure.”
“I'm glad.” She thought she heard a chuckle in his tone.
She tripped on a rock but caught herself on the wall. Being in the pitch black, with the ceiling no more than three inches from her head, sucked.
“How much farther?” She hadn't meant to complain, but the uneven ground and the spider webs slapping her in the arms and face had undone her composure.
