Secrets and Lace (Lonely Lace #2) (9 page)

Glancing between him and the river, Amelia dug her heels into the muddy grass and leaned backward. “I’m not going in that water. It’s freezing. No way!” The fear she’d been fighting rose to the surface. She couldn’t die in the water. She couldn’t. Men she could fight. Water? How the hell did a person fight water? And freezing water at that?

Growling, Jack turned his horse and reached down, grabbing a chunk of her hair and slightly lifting her to her tiptoes. His sour breath breeched the few inches between their faces. “You’re going to shut the hell up or I’m going to slit your throat and toss you in for fish food.”

Amelia didn’t say a word. All of her energy focused on the agony in her scalp. He lifted her across the pommel again, wrapping his hand in the back of her shirt to hold her steady. She clenched her stomach muscles against the return of the onslaught.

The horse danced away from the river’s edge, but Jack pushed him forward with a sharp kick to his haunches.

Icy water splashed up the sides of the horse and onto Amelia’s face, arms, and legs.

No. No. No.

Each step brought Amelia closer to the swirling black surface. She braced herself.

The center of the main river dropped off deeper than a man’s head. She’d never crossed on horseback. Robbie had always led the way across at the lower fork where Big and Little Lonely Rivers separated.

And suddenly her lower body dipped into the heaving water, the icy pull stole her breath and she gasped for air. Her still-tied hands clawed for a handhold as she bent at her waist with the pull of the current. 

Jack cursed, releasing his hold on her shirt and the rope, moving with the horse which fought Amelia’s wild thrashing. 

Amelia arched her back, anything to keep her face from dipping under. The strength of the water dragged at her legs, harder and harder. She struggled for something to hang onto, reaching for the pommel. She grabbed Jack’s arm, slipping lower into the black water beside the swimming horse.

Her captor backhanded her, jerking the reins away from her grasping fingers. The momentum of his hit combined with the weight of the water and drag on her clothing and she slid off the horse, under his stomach.

With very little breath held, Amelia kept her mouth closed. Eyes open, she tried to keep her bearings in the freezing water. Jack’s boot caught her shoulder and she grunted, unable to hear anything under the angry water.

In seconds, she bobbed from under the horse, just out of Jack’s reach. And then went back under. Caught in the undertow, she kicked hard toward the graying light above. The water teased her, letting her up long enough to gasp in a shallow breath and then sucked her down again.

Crap. The rivers would be splitting soon. She had to get up close to the surface, try with everything she had to get out of the grip of the current. Because where the rivers forked, an underwater river began as well, sucking half the water and contents into the caverns. The underwater rivers name was
Dark One
– translated from the nearby Blackfoot Indian tribe. The
Dark One
had killed before.

Amelia kicked. And kicked. And pulled and pushed. She broke the surface and rolled to her back to escape the fingers of the lower currents.

Moving her tied arms above her head for more surface area, Amelia tried gauging how far she had until the fork. The river’s speed threw off where she was.

A rock in the back gave her a rude indication. She lowered her legs carefully, still slamming into large boulders and logs lodged in the river bottom. The west fork.

She’d been directed into the river that would take her to the caverns, if she could get out. Or the falls into Lacey Valley. Why not throw piranhas in while she was at it?

Dead tree limbs protruded into the air above the river. Amelia’s numb fingers didn’t register the first few branches they connected with and she had a hard time adjusting her hands and arms with the rope weight tugging on her wrists.

But as she moved her hands, she noticed the ropes had loosened enough with being soaked in the water she could just barely slip them from the holes. The numbness hid the pain she should’ve felt with the scratches and rope burns on her skin. Bright red spots and strips showed up on her pale skin even as the abandoned rope disappeared under the rippling surface. 

The positive turn to her position lifted her spirits and she hooked her arm, averting her face and reached for anything – anything that might help her pull her ass from the cold water. She’d passed the first stages of hypothermia and couldn’t feel her feet dragging on the river bed.

A large fallen tree stretched across the rushing water. Amelia gritted her teeth and braced her shoulder for the wrenching that – yep, almost tore her arm out of its socket.
Holy crap that hurt.
She wanted to sob and cry and sleep, but instead clung to the swaying tree. She’d recover later. She had to move now.

She probably had minutes at best before the next stage of hypothermia set in.

Shaking and shivering, tingling and severe cold had come and gone. The inability to focus would come next. She worked her hands along the rough log, unsure if the bark scraped her skin or not. She had to watch every movement or risk losing her grip.

She couldn’t feel the tree under her skin.

The steep embankment gave way under her weight. Loose sand and smooth river rock slid into the water with every step she attempted. She dropped to her knees, up to her waist in the water. Having her chest out of the cutting cold helped a little, but not enough to calm her short breaths or speed up her heart rate. Gripping the round trunk, her fingernails had taken on a bluish hue. She almost didn’t care.

Almost. 

Shouts from upriver finally permeated the cold shield she’d been wrapped in. Hanging precariously in the fast current with her legs anchoring her to the river bottom and her hands clawing a tree that may or may not hold her weight, Amelia turned her head and glanced toward her entry point a few hundred feet to her left.

Almost all the horses had crossed. Jack pointed her way, yelling at a few of the men on horses just standing beside him.

She looked straight ahead, the outline of the log blocking most of her vision. But even with the gray shape in the way, the entrance to Lacey Caverns wasn’t hard to see. She had to get inside. That’s where her safety from the men would be.

And maybe then she could warm up. Like there was a heater inside. She scoffed – or maybe she just imagined that she did.

Come on, girl. Go!
She pushed her legs beneath her. Heavy and unwilling to do anything but sit there, her limbs could have been numb logs themselves. Every second added more weight to her body and fatigue clouding her mind.

Mac. She had to make it for Mac. She could do this!

She flexed her fingers and moved her hands further up the log, stumbling as she pushed her body from the water and up the unsteady bank. Throwing herself across the sand and rocks, she let go of the tree. The hardest thing she had to do.

Because if she didn’t stay on the land and slid back into the water, she didn’t have the energy to try anything else again.

Pushing to a crawling position, Amelia ignored the bright red rivulets running from long scratches on her forearms. She crept, slowly at first, and then with more speed across the long snow-laden grass to the trampled animal trail and further into the clearing just outside the smallest of cave openings.

Out of the immediate vicinity of the water, the overloud rushing softened, allowing more noises to permeate her freezing mind. The shouting hammered closer above the pounding of hooves.

She had fifteen feet to go.
Don’t look back. Just get in there.

Seven or eight openings pockmarked the face of the mountain. Varying sizes, the black holes promised all kinds of intrigue. At the moment, the smallest one – about the size of a dog house opening – promised safety from the men. If she could just get in there.

Ten feet.

“Don’t let her get away!” Jack’s rough voice broke through the haze.

Five feet.

Dang it, Amelia, come on!

Her fingers hurt, like bone-breaking pain, but she still couldn’t feel the smooth surface of the rock as she slipped through the entrance. She looked over her shoulder as she turned the first sharp corner of the small inner tunnel.

Jack filled the entrance, blocking most of the light. His large body angled left and right but couldn’t get into the hole. He reached for her leg, grunting and straining as he stretched.

Amelia pushed deeper into the dark. Deeper away from him. Away from the waters.

The turn would take her away from the light and any hope of being warmed by stray sunlight. 

Chapter 12

Having grown up on the ranch with Lonely Rivers in his backyard, Robbie’s experience and knowledge of the area gave him the edge he needed to catch up to Caracus just at the break in the trees to the river. He held back, watching as the gang picked the worst spot on the whole damn river to cross. If he made his presence known, it wouldn’t help anyone, least of all Amelia. 

Searching out Amelia, Robbie ground his teeth. Jack. The bastard hadn’t been killed yet. A surprising fact since he cheated more than he breathed. The asshole pushed a kicking and hitting Amelia over the pommel of his saddle. They plunged into the river.

Robbie held his breath. Where they were going was the deepest part of the river. Even Robbie had never swam there. It was too dangerous.

And then Amelia fell off the horse.

He leaned forward, unable to breath with his chest in a vise. He couldn’t scream or run to her. None of his options in that moment involved saving Amelia. He’d be caught by Caracus.
Come on, girl, surface!

In fact, Devlyn would forget about Amelia and focus on Robbie and that wouldn’t save her either.

He watched the water, finally breathing when she broke the surface. He couldn’t describe the self-control required not to rush to the water.

Watching her body float, tumble and twist in the river – oh, shit! And disappear, no wait, there she was – was a torture he wouldn’t wish on anyone. Memories of praying with his family when he was little flashed in his mind. For the first time in forever, he wanted to pray, wanted help from a higher power. He’d do anything to save her. Even humble himself.

The few seconds before she worked free from the river were the longest of his life. Fear, relief, worry, pain. Robbie breathed a little easier, but not much.

Because her race to the caverns as the men closed in on her started and was worse than any horror movie.

And she made it. And Robbie’s heart cracked and swelled. He could’ve lost her. He almost lost her. Not being together and having her die were too entirely different circumstances. Robbie could handle her not with him, but a world without Amelia wasn’t right and he didn’t want to live without her there.

She had to be so cold. So alone. And so scared.

If Robbie didn’t get to her soon, it wouldn’t matter who had her because she’d die of exposure.

Caracus and the rest of the men reached Jack and dismounted their horses.

Robbie couldn’t hear the yelling, but a few men went into the trees around the caves and came back a few moments later with wood.

Devlyn had found his campsite.

Robbie nudged Revenge back into the trees, anxiety holding his muscles tight. Could he get to her in time, if he went the back way? They picked their way further downstream, past the caverns and closer to the drop off into Lacey Valley where the two rivers were little more than three feet at the deepest and significantly wider.

Revenge didn’t balk at entering water. He crossed the rivers easily. Revenge was so tall Robbie only got splashed by the fresh mountain snow runoff. On the far river bank, Revenge shook himself a little, but answered Robbie’s prodding and moved forward.

The caverns had multiple openings. Amelia and Caracus’s gang had reached only the beginning of the caves. Where Amelia had entered was the “front door” into a long, interwoven tunnel system mainly untouched by man.

Indian legend claimed that a large vein of silver and sapphires lined the walls of the inner tunnels, enough to give the water its blue color. The Native Americans had never been interested in the metals and precious gemstones, instead they were more invested in the prairies for agriculture and the mountains for the wildlife. For them, the beauty of the waters had been used in worshipping their deity.

But the James clan had only wanted the mining rights – screw the prairie. And the MacAllisters had only wanted to share the land with others – make a living off bringing the history of the Colby area alive with camping and ranching.

A breeze blew from the largest tunnel opening. Robbie shivered, pulling the collar of his duster higher up his neck. If wind blew this far up the mountain, then a storm would be hitting soon – starting down in the Valley first.  Amelia’s chances just got cut in half. And you didn’t need to be a gambling man to see that when the odds decreased, the outlook wasn’t good.

Stalactites and stalagmites decorated the damp cavities. Robbie tied Revenge to a column protruding from the ground like the leg of a man. Water dripped into a shallow puddle inches away. Robbie returned to the forest and ripped an armful of foliage from the ground – a mix of grass and leaves, whatever he could find. Beside the water, he dropped the greens. “Sorry it’s nothing fancy, boy. I don’t know how long I’ll be.” He rubbed the bridge of the horse’s nose and then patted his back haunch. He unhooked his rope from the saddle side and looped it across his chest and over his damaged shoulder.

He didn’t have much time to disappear into the dark, the cold, the damp. Step by step he moved further into the tunnels with confidence. More than four years since he’d been in them, but it seemed like just that morning. Growing up in the labyrinthine caves had been a game. Ronan, Amelia, Slate, and Robbie. Tag, Hide-and-Seek, House, all kinds of games in the cool caverns during hot summer days. Even the underground river surfaced for a stretch, calm and lazy as it stretched across a large expanse of the subterranean area. Less than two feet deep, they’d played in its depths for hours on end, one of them always equipped with a lantern to keep the darkness at bay.

Robbie ran a finger along the moist wall as he went. Four shades darker than black, the interior of the cave took away sight completely. His other senses took over as drips of water and the scrape of his boots echoed. A clean, almost sweet scent filled his nose as a sheen of moisture dotted his skin and certainly his clothing.

Deeper. Deeper. And deeper still.

After a handful of turns and long stretches of hunkering over before being able to stand straight up again, Robbie reached the first of many forks that would lead either out of the caves or into the deepest darkest oubliette-style cells. He followed the second one, then another fork and he took the third option, then again, and after five forks, he finally reached the split which would take him to a large opening or to a small cubby-like space where he hoped Amelia had gone to hide.

The rise and fall of voices caught Robbie off-guard. He listened for a moment.

Easily identified, Devlyn Caracus’s voice carried into the depths around Robbie. With how the syllables ebbed and flowed, he’d still be at the entrance and not actually inside the caves themselves. “After we get the girl, we’ll wait here for MacAllister. I guarantee the loser will come back for her. By then, she should be spoiled goods.”

Robbie gritted his teeth at the raunchy laughter from the men resounding through the caverns. If the rumors circulating about the Caracus gang had even ten-percent of truth, all of the men with Devlyn would be the ones to “spoil” Amelia, most likely leaving her worse off than dead.

Before he ran into the group shooting at anything breathing, he ducked into the small cubby which was smaller at the external opening than where he climbed in – but not by much. He had to walk in bent over at the waist. 

The littler tunnel wasn’t more than twenty feet long with two main curves that separated it into little rooms. He knelt in the first one he came to, listening for anything to tell him he’d chosen correctly.

Shallow breathing and a small moan reached him, filling him with relief that he’d guessed right and had found her and worry because Amelia didn’t usually express pain or weakness – at least not around him.

Her dip in the river and nail-biting scramble over the dirt and mud hadn’t erased her natural scent. In the lightening dark, he could almost taste her honey-sweetness on the air. He crawled the next few feet around the curve where the light broke through the dark. In the seconds it took for his eyes to adjust, Robbie almost crawled over Amelia as she huddled against the chilly wall.

Resting on her side, half in the fetal position, Amelia didn’t budge at his arrival.

Robbie wrapped an arm around her. Her icy skin increased his alarm. Hypothermia was nothing to play with. She didn’t do more than offer a small whimper at his sudden appearance.

He whispered directly into her ear. “Shhh. It’s me. Come on, let’s get you out of here.” Robbie couldn’t carry her, not with his shoulder as bad as it was combined with the abuse his body and apparently Slate’s had endured the last few days. She needed to get her body moving anyway. “Amelia, honey, you need to help me. I can’t carry you in here. The ceiling is too low, remember?”

Her nod came slow. She moved like frozen peanut butter.

Robbie relented to his sympathy. He was more worried for her than he wanted to admit. “Hold on.” He stopped her with a hand to her shoulder. Removing the looped rope and then his leather coat, he set them to the side. “Don’t be scared, Ames, I’m going to take your outer clothing off, okay? Just work with me.” He pulled her shirt over her head, moving her arms up and down. He put the cloth on the ground and laid her softly on it, the actions reminding him of their last night together – before his absence – right there, in that cave.

She didn’t resist. He tugged her wet pants from her hips and down to her ankles. Crap, he’d forgotten about her shoes and socks and couldn’t get her pants off over them. Removing those, he then finished pulling off the jeans. She didn’t make a sound.

Rubbing his hands up and down her body in brisk patterns, Robbie worked on sparking some warmth. “Don’t go to sleep, girl. You’re almost there. Come on.” He reached her shoulders, clumsily pulling her up into a sitting position as he did so. He continued whispering. “Amelia, I’m putting my coat on you, then I want you to climb on my back, okay?” She didn’t respond, her head lolling to the back and left.

Shit. He draped his leather duster over her shoulders, tucking her arms into the sleeves. His body warmth inside the thick coat would start warming her body up. But how much longer did he have before the men attempted to come deeper into the caves and across Robbie’s escape path?

Robbie did his best to ignore the sweet scent that was distinctly Amelia, her natural perfume had entranced him from the beginning and he’d asked her once where she bought the smell. She’d laughed. If he remembered right, they’d been twelve and eleven.

He turned on his knees, his back facing her and reached behind him with his good arm for her wrists. Pulling her onto his back shouldn’t have been so easy and yet so difficult. She should have fought him a little bit, done something, anything. But she limply draped over his back and shoulders as he dropped to all fours. He’d carry her in a crawl until he could get her out of the smaller tunnel.

But as he moved his hands over the scratchy floor, his bad arm folded. He corrected before they both collapsed to the ground. He couldn’t hold her on his back and worry about his arm. He glanced at the rope, acknowledging its presence and its potential but regretting its need all at the same time. He moved into a kneeling position with Amelia still lounging on his back. With small movements, he got the rope around her body and his four times before he tied them securely together. Hopefully, it worked. At the moment, it’d have to. 

She hadn’t gained weight, in fact might have been a little bit slimmer. Her cold cheek pressed into the back of his neck. Hopefully she was benefitting from his warmth.

The voices could be heard again at the transition between the small cave and the larger one that would take them to their exit. Robbie limped on all three good-working limbs into the bigger cave then struggled to a standing position. He grabbed the rope and pulled it tighter, yanking her knees up to his waist and gritting his teeth against the pain in his arm.

He could do it. He didn’t have far to go to reach Revenge. 

Working in the dark offered a modicum of comfort. Most people didn’t like the underground lack of light. But Robbie found it soothing, away from the cares of the world. If Amelia didn’t have a life-threatening condition, he’d consider talking her into staying the night with him, there in their cave. Pretending that for just a little while, they had never left each other’s arms. He used the imaginings to escape the pain weakening each crawl. 

The voices grew louder. “I don’t know why Caracus makes me do everything. I hate caves.”

“Shut up, Jack. You’re the reason we’re in this shithole. Let’s get the girl so we can go back to the fire.” The second man’s irritation with Jack brought a smile to Robbie’s face. Even Jack’s colleagues didn’t like him. Typical.

Light bounced off the walls, not quite reaching Robbie’s position, but close enough to startle him. Of course they had flashlights. A bright circle flashed his way and then turned another direction. He stepped back, deeper in the dark.