Heartbreaker (25 page)

“You don’t
fit
?” The exclamation was explosive. A glance showed Lynn that the light from the passage was much brighter now. Their pursuers had almost reached the chamber.

The glow allowed her to see Jess—and Jess to see her. He was looking her over in patent disbelief.

“You won’t fit either,” she said, giving his body a quick once-over in turn. His hips were slim for a man of his size, but they were wider than hers. As for his shoulders—forget it. “The passage is too narrow. We’ve got to hide.”

“There’s no damn place
to
hide,” Jess said. “Rory?”

“She made it through. She said there was a way to the outside. Theresa was there with her and was going to show her.” Lynn kept her voice steady. If pain showed in her eyes Jess knew better than to acknowledge it.

“She should be all right then.” He was bracing, not sympathetic, for which Lynn was thankful. “One good thing about it: If you can’t fit through that tunnel you can bet your sweet life that none of these guys will be able to. They won’t be able to follow her.”

When we’re dead
, he meant. The sentiment was unspoken, but Lynn heard it loud and clear. Their gazes met.

So be it, she thought. Her life for Rory’s. It was a trade she was willing to make.

A man’s silhouette darkened the entrance to the passage. Lynn glanced down and saw that he was carrying a flaming torch.

Despite all her avowals her mouth went dry with terror. This was it then.

A sneaking question entered her mind: Did it hurt to die?

Three men followed the torchbearer. One was Santa Claus.

All four—Lynn counted them—were armed with rifles. At least all of them were here. That meant Rory had a real shot at escape.

Once they stepped out of the passage, though, the light from the torch would illuminate the entire chamber. There was no chance that she and Jess could escape detection.

Their present position was horribly, hideously exposed. All the men had to do was look up. Which, sooner or later, they would.

For a brief, desperate instant Lynn thought about squirming back into the passage. At least in there she would be out of sight.

But they would find her. There was no possibility that they would not. That passage provided the only other egress.

At the thought of being trapped and then shot in that coffinlike space, Lynn felt a cold chill run down her spine. She would rather by far meet her end in the open, where at least she could put up a fight.

“Get down!” Jess lay prone. Lynn quickly dropped down beside him. The hard warmth of his body pressed close against hers. Absurdly, given the circumstances, she took comfort from it.

The torchbearer stepped into the chamber. The flame seemed to grow. Warm orange rays stretched into every nook and cranny.

“There’s no way out,” one of the men said in surprise as the other three entered.

“There has to be a way out,” Santa Claus replied, frowning heavily as his gaze probed the corners. “You saw the footprints. They came this way. They can’t just have vanished. Ergo, there has to be a way out.”

“What difference does it make if we lose them anyway? What harm can they do? There’s so little time left! Can’t we spend it some other way?” The speaker was a thin, balding man with stooped shoulders and rimless spectacles. He looked like Lynn’s idea of Bob Cratchit in
A Christmas Carol
.

“You sound like you’re beginning to have doubts, Louis,” Santa Claus said. Suddenly all eyes—including Lynn’s and Jess’s—were on Louis. “Are you questioning the words of the Lamb?”

“No! No!” Louis sounded afraid. “Of course not! It’s just … I never bargained on having to kill people.”

“Everything we do is at Yahweh’s direction! Even this! It is for the greater good. We are only performing the mission we were put here on earth to carry out. We act not out of hatred, but out of love.”

“Love heals!” The other two spoke in unison and exchanged knowing nods.

“We don’t know what the Judas may have told them,” the torchbearer said reasonably. “Like the others, they could well be his agents. They might try to interfere.”

“I know, I know, but even if Michael told them everything there’s nothing they can do now to stop it. It’s too late. I—”

“You’re an old woman, Louis, and you always have been,” the torchbearer said impatiently. “Can we get on with this, please? If possible I’d like to be at the compound with the Lamb when the time comes.”

“So would we all,” Santa Claus said, and Louis’s qualms appeared to be dismissed.

For a moment there Lynn had almost begun to hope again. Though of course there had never been any real chance that they would just turn around and go away.

“Look for an exit. There has to be one,” Santa Claus said.

The torch was raised high. The four men began a visual probe of every nook and cranny, starting at the entrance to the passage and turning slowly toward the far wall.

It was just a matter of seconds now, Lynn knew. Hugging the surface of the ledge, making herself as small and flat as possible while continuing to watch the quartet’s every move, Lynn experienced a whole gamut of emotions, from helpless terror to rage to despair.

Rory!
Her thoughts flew to her daughter.
Please
,
God, keep her safe
.

Beside her, Jess seemed to vibrate with as much tension as a just-plucked guitar string.

I don’t want to die!
Lynn screamed inwardly. Then,
don’t let it hurt
.

“There they are!” The torchbearer saw them, pointed. The other three swung around to look.

For an instant, lying flat on that ledge next to Jess with her head cocked up like a baby’s in a crib, Lynn stared death in the face and knew it. Her blood ran cold.

Santa Claus laughed, an eerily cheerful chuckle that made the hair rise on the back of Lynn’s neck. He lifted his rifle to his shoulder and looked down the sight.

He was going to kill them without a word.

Her fight-or-flight response kicked into high gear. But there was nowhere to run—and no way to fight.

Jess’s muscles bunched. Lynn could feel him getting ready to—do what? What could he possibly do? She wasn’t waiting to find out.

Acting instinctively, grabbing for the only weapon near at hand, she snatched up a large rock, reared back, and threw it with all her strength at Santa Claus’s head.

It connected with a satisfying smack!

Santa Claus cried out, staggering backward. The rifle arced upward. His finger depressed the trigger reflexively. A staccato burst of gunfire roared from the weapon, exploding through the chamber with white streaks of light like dozens of tiny lightning bolts. Bullets ricocheted off the ceiling and floor and walls. A man screamed in agony. All four dropped to the ground as Lynn cowered and covered her head. The torch fell, its flame flickering wildly as it rolled down the wet, sloped floor.

Jess threw himself on top of Lynn, flattening her, driving the breath from her body.

The ceiling came down.

Just dropped straight down with an eardrum-shattering crash, obliterating the bad guys, extinguishing the torch, and producing a huge, choking cloud of dust.

A split second later came another roar, more terrible than the first, followed by an enormous splash.

What felt like the earthquake to end all earthquakes shook the chamber. Sprawled flat on the unforgiving ledge with Jess’s far from inconsiderable weight atop her, Lynn clung to the rock with every muscle in her body.

The shaking ended quickly. The echoes lasted longer. When at last all was still, the chamber was as black as pitch. The air was thick with dust. Lynn heard what she thought was rushing water not too far below.

Other than her own and Jess’s breathing, there were no human sounds.

Just an ominous, gurgling roar.

“A
RE YOU OKAY
?” Jess asked in her ear.

Lynn couldn’t draw enough breath to answer.

“Lynn?” He sounded anxious. Gently he brushed the hair back from the side of her face. His hand felt for and found the pulse at the side of her neck. His fingers rested there, warm and callused. Sprawled on top of her, he made a very effective shield, Lynn reflected. Of course, she might just die of suffocation in the process of being protected.

“Could you … get off me?” she managed.

“Oh. Sorry.” His hand moved, and he rolled to one side. Lynn lay where she was for a moment, enjoying the luxury of drawing air into near-flattened lungs.

Even if the air was full of dust.

“Lynn? Are you okay? You weren’t hit?” He lay on his side with his back against the wall. Lynn wriggled around to face him. She felt limp with the aftermath of danger and emotion. For the moment she just wanted to lie there and savor having looked death in the face and survived.

His good arm, which was bent at the elbow—she assumed his hand cushioned his head—formed a convenient pillow. She allowed her cheek to rest on it, luxuriating in the solid strength of his body, which she could feel along the whole length of hers. It felt wonderful to be alive, unhurt, and—at least temporarily—safe.

“No. I’m okay.” She was cold, shivering in fact, and he radiated heat. She scooted closer. The stone on which she lay was hard and bumpy. The chest she snuggled against was hard too, but in a different kind of way: resilient-hard. And warm. So warm. “You?”

“I’m fine.”

His arm moved, wrapping around her shoulder and pulling her more firmly against him. As he spoke, his breath feathered her cheek. His large hand curled around her bare upper arm. She got the impression that his mouth was tantalizingly close, and her pulse quickened in response.

“I didn’t think we’d get out of that one,” she said, ignoring the quickening.

“I kind of had doubts myself.”

Her head still rested on his biceps. As his arm flexed she was treated to a firsthand demonstration of the hardness of the muscle there. Lying right up next to him as she was, her hands flattened against the soft flannel covering his chest, her thighs pressed against his, Lynn realized just how strong and muscular his body really was. She realized something else too: that in Jess’s arms was just exactly where she wanted to be.

In different circumstances, maybe, but definitely in his arms.

Common sense pulled her back from the brink. Get a grip, she scolded herself. This was neither the right time nor the right place for a romantic interlude.

Even if he just might be the right man.

Lynn pulled free and rolled to a sitting position, not without a twinge or two of regret.

“Careful.” His hand rested on her hip. Lynn, to her combined amusement and annoyance, liked it there. It was kind of casually possessive, she thought.

She liked the idea of Jess being casually possessive of her.

“The dust is dying down,” she said.

“That’s good.”

He sat up beside her, his movements seeming more ponderous than usual. Lynn wondered if his shoulder was bleeding again. It almost had to be, considering the abuse he had subjected it to. He had to be in considerable pain as well.

It occurred to her that he was surprisingly tough, physically.

“Is your shoulder bleeding?” she asked.

There was a moment’s silence, as if he were checking.

“No. It’s just sore as the devil.”

“That’s good.”

“I’m glad you think so.”

Lynn smiled at the dryness of his tone. “It’s better than bleeding to death.”

“I suppose.”

“I don’t hear anything, do you? Down there?” She cocked her head, listening.

“Nothing alarming.”

“Do you think they’re dead?” she asked.

Now that he was no longer behind her, she eased back until her shoulder blades touched the wall. The rock felt clammy against her bare skin. She was shivering again, with either cold or fear or some combination of the two. Drawing her knees up to her chest, she wrapped her arms around them.

Snuggling with Jess again even for so basic a necessity as warmth would be a mistake. Right now what they had to concentrate on was survival.

“If not, I’d say they’re definitely out of commission.” A hint of humor colored Jess’s words. “Were you
aiming
for that guy?”

“Of course I was aiming for that guy,” Lynn responded, shooting him an indignant glance that was wasted since he could not see it through the darkness. “I’ll have you know that I’m a dead shot when it comes to hurled objects. I was the star pitcher on my high school Softball team. I struck ’em out every time.”

“Oh, what those five two can do,”
Jess quoted, his shoulder brushing hers companionably as he rested against the rock wall beside her. “I think you just saved our lives.”

“It wasn’t on purpose, I have to confess. I only threw the rock because it was there. I didn’t expect it to really help. At best I guess I thought it would give our killer a headache to remember us by.”

“Honey, I doubt he would have any trouble remembering you.” Jess’s voice was warm, caressing, and amused.

“If he were alive,” Lynn clarified, ignoring the
honey
, which actually sounded kind of sweet, coming as it did from Jess. She suddenly felt anxious. As pitch black as their surroundings were, it wasn’t hard to imagine Santa Claus and his henchmen emerging Terminator-like from the destruction. “Do you think you could flick the Bic for a minute? I’m getting the creeps sitting here in the dark. What is that sound?”

It was the same mysterious rushing gurgle that had been present since the roof fell, only it seemed to be growing louder.

A moment later, after a little rooting around that Lynn could hear and feel rather than see, Jess obligingly flicked the Bic.

What Lynn saw as she looked down made her eyes widen with shock.

The good news was, the bad guys were gone. The bad news was, the floor was gone. Everything except the ledge on which they perched was gone.

The entire chamber had fallen into a swirling black river.

Which was now climbing the walls.

Toward them.