Drake

 

 

There’s no time to drowse or cuddle—not that I would want to in a place like this. Instead, as soon as we catch our breath, we’re bundling into our clothes by the light of the improvised lantern, checking our gear, and planning.

 

“We’ll go by the view of the infrared camera. You lead me along. Their lights will warn us if they are around.” I pull on the backpack, but I’ve lost her gear bag somewhere in this maze. Like the diamonds, we’ll have to come back for it when this is all over.

 

“And once we get out?” She’s pulling her vest back on as she stands close to me. I can smell our mixed sweat on her, and despite busting harder than I have in years, I have to squash another surge of desire. Not now.

 

“We call the cops on Max. He’s a menace, he’s not going to stop and he’s after you now.”

 

That gets me a shocked look. “He’ll roll over on you! You’ll go to jail!”

 

I close my eyes in pain. I don’t ever want to go back to that hellhole again. But I know in my heart that even that is better than leaving her in danger. I barely know her, and I can already tell that this one is worth the risk of going to the cage. “Maybe. But I told you I’d get you out of danger, and I plan to, no matter what it costs me.”

 

She shakes her head. “We’ll find another way.”

 

I’m grateful. She could have called the police hours ago, had everyone swept into the net except maybe Chad, and gone her way. But I can’t let her risk her neck for me. “Well, if you come up with something, let me know. Meanwhile, let’s get the hell out of here.”

 

She leads the way, using the infrared camera and occasional sweeps of her flashlight. We make our way back out into the main room. The pit with that spindly wooden staircase clinging to the wall above it looks even creepier in small glimpses.

 

We are edging our way along the pit when disaster hits. The door at the top of the stairs suddenly bangs open, letting in light. Three figures with flashlights pile through.

 

Max's voice is loud enough to hear clearly two stories up. “And I said, we lost the trail. I know I hit one of them—that bitch has to bleed, right? So we’re going back down and seeing if there’s a blood trail. I don’t care if we spend the rest of the night”

 

His rant cuts off as one of the sweeping flashlights catches us in its beam. I freeze—and then step in front of Amanda instinctively, shielding her from his sight and possible aim.

 

“Well holy shit,” he laughs. “Looks like the rats were hiding down here somewhere!”

 

He steps forward, lowering his light, and I see his grin in the glow from the other flashlights as he raises his gun.

 

“The diamonds!” I call out, praying silently that his greed will override his bloodlust.

 

He hesitates. “I thought you had them on you.”

 

“Thanks to you, I never had the chance to retrieve them. And you’ll never find them in this place unless I do. You want to throw away two million?”

 

He moves forward, starting to walk menacingly down the stairs. I notice that they creak loudly, and that some of the bolts in the stone walls wiggle and give up little puffs of dust that I can barely see in the dimness. “Tell me where they are and I won’t shoot the girl.”

 

“You were planning to shoot both of us anyway. So how about this—you let her go. She’s not going to call the cops; they’ll grab me as well and she doesn’t want that. Once she’s out safe, I’ll fetch the stash for you, and you can do whatever you want to me.” My voice sounds so even and reasonable.

 

Oscar looks a little worried. “Max, that staircase looks a little shaky. Maybe you should—”

 

“Shut up!” He turns back to me. “You’re not really in a position to negotiate here. So here are the actual terms. You fetch me those diamonds and I’ll kill her quick. Otherwise I shoot her in the stomach and you watch her bleed out for a couple of hours.”

 

He stomps forward as he speaks—and something happens that I’ll remember until I die.

 

It looks like something enormous and unseen grabs the middle of the staircase and yanks on it, peeling the whole mess away from the wall. It could have been the bolts giving way under Max’s weight, but how they could all give at the same time, I just don’t know.

 

“Max!” Oscar screams—and Chad finally shows something like balls. He lunges forward and grabs the big man, dragging him back from the crumbling staircase with all his strength.

 

“Get back, dude!” he yells, and a roar of collapsing wood fills the room as the two of them tumble back through the doorway.

 

I don’t know how I’m able to run that fast on my ankle or with Amanda in my arms, but somehow I’m racing back into the larder alcove to shelter us from flying debris. My last glimpse of Max is him tumbling into the pit, screaming in rage, with most of the staircase following him.

 

When the dust settles, I uncurl from around Amanda and we straighten, limping back into the room. It’s mostly clear of debris—the mess largely fell into the mass grave. “The back staircase is that way,” she murmurs numbly, pointing with her flashlight.

 

We help each other head in that direction.

 

Upstairs, I can hear poor Oscar’s dry sobbing, and smell Chad trying to ply him with some weed. I’ll have to look after Oscar once this is sorted out. He’s not likely to have a problem with me now that the influence of his brother is gone.

 

I just hope he’ll heal. I will, and Amanda will. And most importantly, she is now safe.