Desert Exposure (11 page)

“There’s no damage to the cabin, or our cars,” Michael said, still scanning the area.

“Good,” she whispered, and then shivered.

“Do you feel okay about unlocking the back door?” He turned, gave her a quick glance, and then scanned the yard again. “Or do you want to give me the key?”

“I’ll do it.”

“Okay, but only I will enter. I’ll check out the inside. You wait on the verandah, away from windows, and stay low.”

“I don’t want to stay out here,” she whispered, and looked around, holding Ralph tight.

He could see how frightened she was, and it hadn’t been long since she’d been threatened, and shot at. He grimaced. If someone had gotten inside, and then locked the door…

“Can I follow you inside, and stay behind you?”

“It could be risky. What if Ralph barks?”

“I’ll shadow you,” she said. “And I’ll cover Ralph’s mouth. He knows what that means.”

The fear in her eyes almost did him in. Hell, she could be shot. But then he supposed she could be shot at out here too. “Did you lock both doors when we left?”

She held up the keys. “Yes.”

She lowered her voice. “I locked the screen and the front door after you when you came in, because I always do. Then I took the keys and locked the back one on our way out.”

“Does anyone else have keys to the place?”

Rachel pressed up tighter behind him. “Nobody else,” she whispered. “Only me…oh…and of course, Grandpa.”

“Okay.” Michael moved up onto the verandah and stepped closer to the door. He pressed his ear to it, and listened. He indicated she should turn the key, and after she did, he shoved her behind him.

“On three,” he said. “And stay close.”

She nodded, and hooked a hand into the back of his jeans.

“One. Two. Three,” he said in a hoarse whisper. He flung the door wide, his body in a crouch, well, as much as he could with a woman and a dog behind him. His gaze methodically swept the main room. Nothing seemed amiss. He held the gun steady, ready to fire at any movement.

“Get your hands up. Police,” he yelled. The cabin was quiet. It looked exactly as they’d left it, and being small, he was sure he’d hear if another person breathed. He checked out each room with Rachel hanging onto the waist of his jeans, her warm breath tickling the back of his neck. They got to the darkroom last.

“Does everything look okay in here?” he asked.

“Yes. It’s exactly how I left it,” she said peering over his shoulder.

She let out a huge puff of air and it fanned softly over his cheek. “Thank goodness. That scared me.”

“Yes. Me too.”

“If he’d taken the negatives I’d be in damn serious trouble. It must have been some drifter,” she said. “Or it could have been someone taking a shortcut into town.”

“Or, he could have been checking out if the cabin was open.” Michael didn’t tell her the guy had been moving away from town, not toward it. No sense in frightening her further. He slipped the gun into his waistband. “He may have been checking out the cars to see if they were open, or if they were alarmed.”

She’d slid around from behind him, nestled against his side, her hand around him and sliding up and down his ribcage. He caught his breath, and held it for a few seconds. He knew it was just a reflex. But her actions both comforted and aroused him.

“I suppose so. Yeah, he might have wanted to steal the car. Maybe he’d hoped I’d left the keys inside. People do dumb things down here.”

He nodded.

“I mean, Grandpa always said it was safe here and he’d leave the windows open at night. And he didn’t even have a dog or anything.” She looked down at Ralph, tucked under her other arm. “He’d never had problems with breaking and entering, or anyone trying to steal his truck.”

Michael eased away from her, but she turned and looked up at him. They were standing so close, face to face in the small hallway outside the darkroom. A twinge of discomfort shot through him. He liked being close to her too much.

“Want to check those negatives?” he asked, stepping back a bit, and indicating they should go into the darkroom.

“Sure,” she said. “It’s been almost an hour, might be a tad too soon to print anything, but it won’t be long. We’ll check the timer.”

“Good. And then we’ll get the hell out of here.”

****

Rachel went inside the darkroom first, still holding Ralph. Ralph squirmed and barked.

“Shush, honey,” she said, and pressed his lips. “No bark.” She looked at Michael and grinned. “Grandpa would have a fit if he knew Ralph was in here. Stay still, sugar. No flying fur.”

She didn’t want to risk putting Ralph down. Not yet. Michael’s presence behind her had her nerve endings buzzing. And that reminded her of how she’d felt on the boat when he’d covered her hands. Heat flooded and pooled in her abdomen. Her breath quickened, and she had the desire to press back against him. Feel that same heat she’d felt earlier. All work and no play Delaney. She lifted the timer, five minutes left.

Ralph growled and squirmed in her arms. There was a loud bang, and a click. The room went black.

“What the hell?” she said, turning and bumping into Michael. “Did you shut the door?”

“No. I didn’t touch anything.” He gripped her arm. “Shh. Someone is out there. They’ve locked us in.”

“Move back a bit. I need to turn on the safe light.”

When the room was suffused in a dull golden light she looked up at Michael.

He tried the door, shouldering his weight against it, but it wouldn’t budge. “It’s been barred with that huge iron bar, and padlocked.”

“What do we do now?” Rachel asked.

Her heart pounded and she’d started to sweat. She took in a couple of deep breaths, reminding herself she wasn’t claustrophobic. Hell, she’d been closed up in this room millions of times before.

Michael sat on the side of the tub. “Okay, let’s think things through.” He held his head in his hands for a few moments. “Okay. I have my gun, but I doubt I could shoot out that padlock on the other side of the door.” He coolly assessed the room.

She bit at the inside of her cheek. Besides, without extra ammo on his person, he needed to use what bullets he had to fire at the bastard who’d locked them inside. Knowing not to butt into his thoughts, but also knowing they were trapped, Rachel tried not to show her distress. He touched the front pocket of his jeans, and then pulled out his cell phone. Rachel held her breath as he punched in a number.

No service.
Damn
. “It’s always dicey down here,” she said and shrugged.

“They wouldn’t have a unit in the immediate area anyway. It could be thirty minutes before someone arrived in the best case scenario.” He closed off the cell and shoved it in his pocket, scanned the walls, the floor, the ceiling of the darkroom. “Are there any tools, instruments, anything we can use?”

“Not much.” Rachel put Ralph on the floor. He ran to the door sniffing up and down the length of the rubber at the bottom. He growled deep in his chest. “Someone is still out there,” she whispered. Why she whispered she had no idea.

“Don’t worry. We’ll figure this out.” Michael searched through the cupboard below the vanity and produced a bottle opener, a knife, a pair of scissors, two long handled spoons, and a plastic coffee measuring spoon and lined them up on the countertop. “I think it’s the negatives, or the prints that he wants.”

He sat back on the edge of the tub and indicated she should join him. In a loud voice, he said, “Rachel, how long will it take to print those negatives?”

He raised one finger and mouthed one hour.

“About an hour,” she said.

Michael smiled at her and rubbed her shoulder. Ralph had stopped barking and sniffing at the door. He curled up to rest at their feet. Rachel shook off her backpack. “You never know what I’ll have in here,” she said.

Michael grabbed it and rummaged through, and then looked up at her, his eyes showing what she’d feared. Other than a couple of wooden toothpicks, binoculars, and a hairbrush, they were out of luck.

“Think positive. At least you’ve got a couple of protein bars. And we have the basket of apples.” He looked around the small space. “And we’ve got coffee,” he said cheerfully, with a nod toward the tiny two cup coffee maker on the counter.

Rachel blew out a huge puff of air.
Yeah, like they were gonna sit here and have a picnic while some lunatic waited at the other side of the door.

Michael slapped the hairbrush against his thigh a couple of times.

“The guy has gone away,” Rachel said, and rubbed Ralph’s back. “Ralph hasn’t barked for a few minutes now.’

“Yeah, I figured as much.”

“What do you think he’ll do?” She shuddered and leaned her head on Michael’s shoulder. “Will he torch the place?” He rubbed her back and she knew he was trying to form some plan. But would they be burned to death, or would they die of smoke inhalation?

“No, I don’t think so. He knows we’re going to develop those photos. He wants them.”

Rachel pressed her lips tight and nodded.

“He doesn’t want to destroy us.” Michael squeezed her shoulders, pulling her closer. “He wants the pictures and that’s why I spoke loudly and had you give a time frame. Only problem is, in about one hour he’ll be back.”

“And then what?” Rachel murmured.

“Maybe he’ll ask for them.”

Rachel nodded again, but she didn’t really believe that. Michael was trying to put a positive spin on things. An hour was a long time. There were no sounds from outside the darkroom, and she knew it would be easy for the man to get rid of them, along with the photos, by setting fire to the place. She pulled in a sharp breath.

“What?” he asked sharply.

“With the chemicals here, and the gasoline for the boat, the place would…it would burn down in a couple of minutes.” Her heart pounded even harder, and sweat dampened her hairline. She seldom panicked, but the thought of fire…

Michael leaped up, grinning like a little kid, and tossed the hairbrush to her. She caught it, but couldn’t fathom his excitement. “The window,” he said, and pointed to the area covered with black plastic. He stood on the side of the tub and started to rip off the duct tape.

Oh, thank goodness
. She’d forgotten all about it. “There’s wood covering it,” she said.

“Let’s see. It’s probably only plywood.”

He continued to strip off the sheets of plastic, handing them down to her until he hit plywood. It had been screwed into place at each corner. Rachel grimaced. They didn’t have a screwdriver. “Hand me the bottle opener, and that knife. Oh, and the scissors,” Michael said.

He used the knife first, trying to unscrew the screws, but to no avail. The scissors were a little bit better. Then he got the bottle opener in under the corner of the wood and lifted the sheet of plywood a bit. It was slow going. He worked each corner of the wood, a heavy sheen of sweat forming on his face. A couple of minutes later, he peeled off the flannel shirt, tossed that to her, and went back to work. Rachel felt entirely useless, and she had to pee. Darn it. If only she hadn’t had that cup of coffee.

“Hold my legs tight, so I don’t fall,” Michael said. “I’m going to give the wood panel a wrench.”

“No problem.” She gripped him tight, forgetting all about her needs, and looked up.

He stuck his fingers in as far as he could behind the wood, and wrenching it, moved it a half inch on one corner. His arm muscles bulged, and his breath came hard. He gave off a nice manly scent and Rachel tried not to think about that.

“Good. That’s good. I’m going to work on the other side,” he said.

She let him move, and then gripped him around the thighs again. This job she liked. But she was determined to be on her best behavior, considering their circumstances. She’d keep her eyes averted and not think about taking a little bite of that gorgeous ass.

“Rip that sucker off, babe,” she said, and held him steady as the wood creaked and began to give way.

“Aw, shit. Okay, I’m coming down.” Michael jumped to the floor, and stepped around her to turn on the water faucet at the vanity.

“Your fingers are bleeding,” Rachel said, and reached for his hand.

He shook his head, and shoved his hand under the water. “It’s nothing. I tore the corner of a finger nail. No big deal. Nothing to worry about…a paper cut.”

“I’ve got a bandage, and some tissues, in my backpack,” she said. “You sit down.” She dug around in the backpack and finally found them. “The bandage has been in there for ages, but it’s still good.”

“Thanks.”

She took his hand and examined the finger. It was worse than he’d let on. “Keep it compressed for a few minutes, and then we’ll put the band aid on to stop the bleeding. I’ve only got one.”

He did as she said, and remained seated on the side of the tub.

Rachel picked up the bottle opener. “I’ll work on the lower screws.”

Without waiting for a reply, she pushed the opener underneath the edge of the panel. Her fingers, being smaller than Michael’s, she could almost fit her entire hand in behind the plywood. It felt good to be doing something.

“It’s coming loose,” she said, a few seconds later.