Out of the Depths

CHAPTER SIX

CHANCE SLID HIS ARMS out of his pack and dropped it on the ground beside hers. As he squeezed his way through the opening, he realized it had been a while since he’d been through this tunnel. Too much time sitting behind a desk. Not enough time doing fun things like this.

Nothing in the tunnel indicated the teenagers had found it, but he dreaded what he might find at the other end. He shimmied the last few feet and came out into the small dead-end room, sighing his relief. Nothing had changed since the last time he was there, but he’d forgotten the ceiling was so low. He had to keep his neck bent so as not to bump his head.

Kyndal scooted out of the tunnel effortlessly. Her tiny frame probably hadn’t even touched the sides. He helped her into a standing position, which proved to be no trouble. She even had a foot to spare. He watched her expression as she scanned the strange contents of the room.

Mounds and indentations—nine of them all together—circled the outside perimeter of the cavern, and each had a leather collar lying at its center.

Kyndal knelt by the nearest one and picked up the collar, reading the name inscribed on the small metal tag. “Ajax?” Her bottom lip protruded in a thoughtful pout. “His dog?”

Chance nodded and knelt beside her. “All of Mr. Turner’s

dogs, I think. This is where he buried them.” He focused the light on a collar about three feet away. “That collar is really old. No name on it. And the depression is the deepest, so it’s probably the first grave. Maybe a childhood pet.”

“Oh.” Kyndal’s hand spread across her chest. “That is so sweet.” The light glistened in her eyes as she blinked back tears. “All these years, I’ve thought he was a mean old man. But he had a soft side behind that gun-toting exterior, didn’t he?”

A wild urge to kiss away those tears came over him and he stood up abruptly, whacking his head against the low ceiling. He let loose a string of expletives, which did nothing for the pain but eased his frustration somewhat.

Kyndal snickered—enjoying his suffering—and began taking shots of the curious room’s contents.

“Well, don’t go making Turner into a saint just yet.” He rubbed the ache with his fingers until he was satisfied there was no blood. “I also found the remnants of a small still and a lot of empty bottles. I don’t think Turner’s tenacious guarding of the place was strictly because of his dog cemetery.”

At the mention of the still, Kyndal sprang to her feet, shooting a smug smile toward the ceiling. “Ooooo. A still. That would make some good shots.”

“It’s gone. I was afraid somebody might get cut on the rusty metal.” He winced as another pain shot through his head. “But I have something in another room I think you’ll find photo-worthy.”

Kyndal nodded toward the tunnel. “Let’s go, then.”

That she was in a hurry to be finished with this excursion caused another echo of pain, this time through the middle of his chest. He quickly reminded himself that the sooner they got back into the glaring light of day the better off they’d both be. These depths held too many memories.

Kyndal was on all fours before he could offer to go first. Her backside wiggling its way through the shadowy tunnel just a foot in front of him made him wish he’d given her a longer head start.

Once through to the other side, they swatted the dust from their legs and shouldered their backpacks once again.

Chance led the way through a series of caverns, taking them deeper into the cave. The cooler temperature pulled the hair on his neck to attention.

“I’m getting a little chilly.” Kyndal tugged on his shirt to hold him back. She dropped to one knee and unzipped her pack, pulling out the thermal top from yesterday. Her breasts bobbed under the T as she slipped the extra layer over her head. The cotton underneath caused it to catch, and she struggled to get it over the soft mounds, twisting and turning her body in a dance of oblivious erotic gyrations.

Chance stood hypnotized by the movements, not daring to breathe. How many times had he watched her dress after they’d made love, helped her with a button or a zipper that was difficult to reach? The extra air from his lungs seemed to shoot straight to his groin, blowing into a rock-hard erection.

He cleared his throat to cover the groan that threatened and reached out to lend a hand, jerking the top down with more force than was needed.

“Thanks.” Her voice sounded tighter than the shirt.

He strode past her without a word, his purpose finally clear in his mind. Let her get the shots she needed and get the hell out of there. Let her go back to her life and he would go back to his, and let another nine years of somewhat Kyndal-free thoughts begin. Then he’d get some work done this afternoon on that new case.

He heard her scurrying to keep up, so he slowed his pace to accommodate her shorter legs. He ducked through one last passage and found the opening he had been looking for.

Shutting the light off threw the room into utter darkness. Kyndal stumbled hard against him with a small cry of alarm.

“Shhh,” he warned, mentally chiding himself for not stopping before they got this close.

“What is it?” A note of fear edged her whisper.

He found her face with his hands and covered her mouth lightly as a warning. Leaning in close, his lips brushed the edge of her ear. “Shhh.”

She shivered, a spontaneous and involuntary response, and he smiled at the confirmation that he could still do that to her. A flick of the tongue against her ear would send her into sexual overdrive. Or at least it used to.

In spite of their ideologies—and what he’d said yesterday—she really hadn’t changed that much. Neither of them had. Which made being here together even more threatening.

He nudged away the thought, pronouncing the words in a barely audible whisper, careful to keep his tongue safely in the confines of his mouth. “Bats. Lots of them.”

Her quick intake of breath sucked his hand closer.

“They completely cover the ceiling on the other side of this opening.” He removed his hand from her mouth but slid it on around into her hair to keep her close as he explained.

“Sometimes they stay where they are, but I’ve had them fly. I don’t know what determines their actions, whether it’s noise or movement or what. But I do know we don’t want to be standing in this opening when they come through.”

Her hair lay soft on the back of his fingers while her breath scampered down his neck—just like he’d imagined all last night. And all this morning.

* * *

BATS IN FLIGHT? THE POSSIBILITY of a shot with bats in flight? Chance’s breath playing softly around her ear and neck? Which experience was making her heart beat so erratically?

Until yesterday, it had been almost two years since she’d had anyone’s breath around her ear, but this was no time to let a physical reaction get the best of her. Chance Brennan would never get the best of her again. She tucked her mouth in close to his ear, keeping her voice controlled. “I’ll need some lighting to get it right. That’ll be your job. I’ll give you a lamp, and show you where to turn it on. When I give the signal, flip it to High. But I want to be inside that room.”

“Hold on to my waistband.” His voice froze at a flutter from the next room. They stood paralyzed, barely daring to breathe. When silence returned, he whispered again. “We’ll move slowly through the door, down the right-hand wall. Be careful of your step. One stumble and they’re on top of us.” He hesitated. “Sorry. I’m being overly dramatic. Don’t be afraid. If they come this way, drop to the floor and cover. Now get your camera and the lamp out. We’ll leave the bags here.”

Kyndal eased the zipper on her bag open and brought out the lamp. Wordlessly, she took Chance’s hand and guided it to the switch, mimicking how to push the switch to the on position. She pulled the camera gingerly from the bag, looped the strap over her neck and shoulder. Her hand groped around Chance’s waist until she was satisfied with the hold, then she gave his arm a quick squeeze to indicate she was ready.

They moved soundlessly through the opening.

The fecal smell, which had been a faint, musty scent in the previous room, now assaulted her nasal passages with a putrid blend of ammonia and sulfur that set off her gag reflex. She swallowed repeatedly, trying not to think about the toxic spores attaching themselves to her esophagus and the gooey guano clinging to her boots.

Chance snaked along the wall a few yards, turned to face her and pulled her lightly against him to anchor her position.

Her heart nearly galloped away when she hit the button to turn on the camera. The familiar high-pitched frequency signaling the battery charging was a sound she’d always taken for granted and barely noticed. Under these circumstances, it sounded like a warning siren.

Chance’s hand rubbed her arm in a silent communication that everything was all right.

The battery charged and the red light glowed its go-ahead. The light was tiny, but in this utter darkness became enough for her to glance back at Chance with his look of intense concentration.

She smiled. He winked in return.

She took a deep breath and brought the camera up in front of her, simultaneously giving him a nod.

The lamp’s soft light became a glaring sun, and for a moment she was blinded by it.

As her eyes adjusted, she had to fight the rising panic in her chest. The ceiling of this room was a black, lumpy sea—a solid mass of small mammals folded in upon themselves, dangling by their claws.

Kyndal snapped quickly, getting in four shots before there was any movement.

What caused the stir, she couldn’t be sure—the camera

shutter, the light or merely their presence?—but hundreds of sets of wings started to unfold and then the room swirled in a torrent of ebony movement. It was like being within two feet of a tornado. The wind from the flapping beat against her face making her gasp as she held the button for shot after shot.

Most of the bats stayed within the confines of the flock, but a few renegades dove toward her and Chance. She stifled a scream as something fluttered against her hair.

An arm like a metal bar circled her waist and pulled her against a body indistinguishable from the limestone wall except it was warm and inviting—and most definitely male. Somehow Chance managed to hold the light with his right hand as his left clutched her tightly. His chin closed down on the top of her head, covering her, protecting her from the onslaught. “Hold on, babe. They’ll be gone in a couple of seconds.”

As if obeying his command, the mass shot out of the opening, and the rush of beating wings faded to unnatural silence.

Kyndal fought to calm her breathing, which came in sputtering gasps, sobs without any accompanying tears.

Chance’s hold on her didn’t loosen, but his jaw slid down across her temple until his mouth hovered above her ear. “Shh. It’s okay. They’re gone. Shhhh.” He took deep breaths, his strong arm pulling her in and then relaxing, setting a pace. When her breathing matched his, he finally eased his grip.

“I don’t want to scare you.” His chuckle made her swing around to face him. “They don’t stay gone very long. In fact, they’re probably on their way back now.”

They ran from the room, scooping up backpacks as they passed. With the lamp still shining in one hand, Chance slung his pack over his shoulder and grabbed her. He pulled her out a different opening than the one they entered from and then ducked through another before switching off the lamp.

The sound of beating wings could be heard in the distance, coming closer with every breath. The sound grew to a roar then whoosh! It was gone. All was quiet again.

She could hear Chance unzipping his pack and fumbling around. In a moment, the soft light of his lantern showed her the small cavern they’d taken refuge in.

As if somebody had pulled a plug, the strength drained from her body. She sank to the floor and lay back, resting the camera on her stomach.

Chance squatted beside her, shining the light onto her face. “You okay?”

“Yeah. Just feeling the passing effects of the adrenaline rush.” She pushed the lantern away. “Now get that thing out of my eyes.”

“Reeeow!” Chance did a good imitation of a mad cat.

She hissed in return, and they laughed together as she sat up. “Let’s see what we’ve got here.” She turned the camera back on, and they scanned through the images of the bat cavern.

Several were of exceptional quality. One of a bat coming right at her.

“That’s probably the little bastard that got in your hair.”

“Eewww!” The thought sent a shiver down her spine. Then she remembered the feel of Chance’s body against her, his arm pulling her close. “Thanks for shielding me and—and for steadying me.”

“I’m glad to be a part of it. These are good, Kyn. Really good.” The admiration in his voice made her face warm. “So when did you decide to drop pre-law and major in photography?”

She flipped the front of the camera toward her and blew on the lens, using more force than necessary to get rid of a couple of dust specks. The question was innocent enough, but it raised her ire just the same. If he’d been with her the way he’d promised, he would know why she changed majors.

She wiped the lens with the hem of her shirt, studiously avoiding eye contact.

But he hadn’t been there. He couldn’t know her disappointment when the financial aid counselor showed her how little the scholarship would actually cover considering the number of years of schooling law would take. He couldn’t know her frustration when her lifelong dream lay shattered by a dollar sign.

He’d been at Harvard, not concerned in the least about finances…or her.

Living his damn easy life.

Her hands trembled as she replaced the lens cap and eased the camera into the security of the backpack. Sometimes those emotions rolled themselves into a fresh ball of anger that bounced around inside her head. Right then, it pounded against her heart, nauseating her with its rhythm.

Lashing out at Chance now would only make him mad enough to call off this venture. Retribution would come with the lost shots of the cave and the lost job.

She covered her mouth, pretending to yawn, opening wide enough to release the tension from her jaw but not quite wide enough to release her anger. “I took a photography class as an elective during my first semester, and I enjoyed it. Got hooked, you know?” She took her time zipping the backpack closed.

“At first, the attraction had to do with being able to arrange things perfectly and capture that perfection forever. With more classes, it became a fascination with the perfection of nature. A leaf hanging in midair by an invisible thread of a spider’s web. A cave with walls of crystal or a swirl of bats. It’s just the kind of match for me that law school never would’ve been.”

She let the subject drop there. Her passion for photography was difficult to explain, especially to people who’d known her when she was younger and determined to be an attorney. Most people’s occupations caused their anxiety; photography eased hers. “I’m lucky to have found an occupation that doesn’t just earn me money. It fulfills me.” She breathed easier, amazed at how much her thoughts had cleared.

Time to get her thoughts back on track. She’d let her past with Chance obscure her passion for this mission. That he left her nine years ago had no bearing on what was going on today. He was someone she’d had a relationship with over a third of her life ago and who now owned the cave. He was the means to an end. That was all.

The past twenty-four hours had been trying. She needed some time to relax and get her head clear before updating her portfolio. “C’mon. Let’s get to that vug. I need to get home.”

She was surprised to see relief shadow his face before he answered, “Yeah. This way.” He was as anxious to get this over with as she was.

He led the way through several more caverns. One they had to squeeze through sideways. Another required more crawling. It wasn’t the way she’d come the day before, but he seemed to know where he was going. She drew a deeper breath when she saw the limestone column formation in the middle of the room. Taking the lantern, she shone it toward the crevice. Crystals winked on the other side, giving the cavern thousands of tiny, watchful eyes. She and Chance stood silently, watching back.

He moved toward the sight, lured by the same force she’d experienced the day before. He jumped, caught the rim and pulled himself up, biceps bulging under the exertion, muscles in his back rippling under the stretched cotton. It took some manipulation to wedge those broad shoulders and the arm with the lantern through the narrow gap.

“Damn! This is more amazing than I imagined.” He flashed the lantern around the room, and his voice held the same wonder she’d felt with that first glimpse. “I can’t believe I’ve never noticed this.”

Fragments of light escaped between Chance and the wall surrounding him, haloing his body with a silver lining. Kyndal fought the part of her that wanted to do some noticing of its own. With him hanging there in front of her, oblivious to her ogling, it was difficult not to notice the way he filled out those jeans, especially as he bent at the waist, his legs taut, gripping the wall. His slim waist tapered up into a broad back. And it took no great stretch of the imagination to picture the muscled thighs and calves hidden beneath the denim.

Her face warmed when she felt her body’s reaction. She fumbled aimlessly with her backpack as he jumped down.

“Incredible!”

Wonder and excitement glowed in his eyes as he moved toward her, and for a brief moment Kyndal was transported back to the day they first made love, realization gripping her heart. She wanted to touch him the way she had then. A lover’s touch. One last time.

The stubble along his jaw deepened in the hazy light. She drew the back of her fingers through it a couple of times, enjoying the way the scratchy texture left a tingle on her skin.

Their gazes locked and she answered the question in his eyes. “You had some dust in your whiskers.”

She read the almost imperceptible movement in his body. The slight bend of his torso toward her in invitation. He was going to try to kiss her, but she couldn’t let that happen.

She’d loved him, and he’d left her. She wouldn’t travel that road again.

Snatching up her pack, she moved out of harm’s way.

* * *

CHANCE KICKED HIMSELF for making the move. She’d wanted him for a split second. He’d seen that look enough times to have it firmly engraved in his memory. The way she’d touched his face…

He’d have to be more careful.

Heeding the warning, he picked up his pack and went to stand beside her under the opening.

“I don’t think I can go through headfirst.” Her voice was all business again as she studied the crevice. “There’s nothing to grab on to on the other side.”

He’d noticed that also and nodded in agreement.

“So, if you’ll give me a foot-up—” she interlaced her fingers in demonstration “—I’ll get a leg through and let myself down feetfirst. Pitch me the lantern and the packs, then I can grab your hands and help you maneuver through.”

He leaned down as she placed her foot into the stirrup of his interlaced fingers. Her hands braced against his shoulders as he tried not to think about how the position brought her breasts into perfect alignment with his face, his mouth within reach of the peaks protruding through the material of her shirts.

“Ready?”

Her hand trembled slightly, and his mouth, which had been almost watering three seconds ago, went suddenly dry. “I’m ready,” he answered, then added, “You be careful.”

“One, two, three.” She pushed down on his shoulders as he straightened.

The nymph weighed almost nothing—far less than the barbells he worked out with at the gym.

She shimmied through the crevice like a kid on a climber.

He eased the lantern through first, then their packs.

“Ooooo.” Kyndal’s voice took on a childlike quality as it floated through the gap. He could hear her moving around the small cavern. “The floor is weird-feeling—kind of spongy.”

Spongy? That didn’t sound right. He jumped and grabbed the rim. This was a limestone cave. The floors should be dirt and rock. Not spongy.

His memory raced to what he’d read about vugs. Bubbles left over after volcanic activity. Bubbles. Shells. Over thousands of years, what if the limestone and dirt underneath washed away? How thick would the bubble be? What if there was nothing left to support the shell? He scrambled to maneuver his head and shoulders through the opening.

The lantern and backpacks sat in the middle of the small oval cavern. Kyndal tiptoed along the far wall, running her hand along the snowballed contours.

Instinct told him the floor might not hold his weight, but she was so small…

“Kyndal, come back to this side.” He fought to control the panic in his voice. “Come back over here, babe.” Knees braced against the outer wall, he stretched his arms toward her.

She shot him a quizzical look over her shoulder.

An ominous cracking sound ricocheted off the walls.

Kyndal spun around to face him. She took a couple of steps in his direction, then froze. “Chance, something’s happening.” Terror vibrated her voice.

“Kynd—”

Another crack brought a scream that ended all too abruptly.

Panic exploded like a bomb in Chance’s chest. He propelled himself through the opening and plunged headlong into darkness.