Heartbreaker (26 page)

Fast.

“Oh, my God!” Lynn breathed. “What happened?”

“At a glance I’d say that an underground river runs beneath this mine. Like all the other rivers in these parts, it’s up because of the rain and the spring runoff. I’m guessing here, but I think the water rushing beneath it must have weakened the floor. When you hit the kook in the forehead with the rock, and he sprayed everything in sight with automatic-rifle fire—except, by some miracle, us—the ceiling, also weakened by water, couldn’t take it. A huge slab of stone dropped onto the floor and, not incidentally, the bad guys. The floor collapsed under the added weight, falling into the river. Voilà.”

“So why is the river climbing the walls?” Lynn asked, staring down in dismay at the roiling object of their discussion. The water gleamed as black as oil, throwing the reflection of the tiny pinpoint of light that was the Bic back at them.

“I think the word is rising,” Jess said, lifting the lighter high as he scanned the ceiling. Despite having lost a good chunk of its substance, it still appeared solid. “At a guess I’d say having about two tons of rock dumped in it dammed the thing up.”

“Oh, my God! If it keeps rising we could drown!”

“Never a dull moment,” Jess said, and turned his head to smile at her. For a moment those baby-blue eyes were bright and intent on her face. “Doesn’t it say that about our vacations somewhere in our brochure?”

“If it doesn’t,” Lynn replied with heartfelt sincerity, “it should.”

His smile widened. “Still thinking about suing Adventure, Inc.?”

“I’ll make a decision once I’ve survived.”

His smile coaxed an unwilling curve to her lips. He was close, she realized, so close that she could see the reflection of the lighter as dancing twin flames in his eyes. So close that she could smell the distinctive aroma of masculine sweat. So close that she could see every whisker and scratch and grimy smear on his face.

So close that she could shift sideways just a few inches, lift up her face, and kiss him.

She was tempted. So tempted.

“Honey, I’ve got news for you. I think we
have
survived.”

“What?”

“The bad guys seem to be dead.”

“They do, don’t they?” As the ramifications of that rising river finally sank in, a tremendous wave of relief swept over Lynn. They were dead, and she no longer had to fear being murdered. Not for herself, or Rory, or Jess.

The thought of Jess being murdered was almost as painful as picturing herself or Rory as victims.

“I think I’ve figured out who they were. Remember when they were talking, and they said
love
heals? They’re Healers.”

“What are Healers?” Her forehead wrinkled.

“A religious cult. Officially, the World Assembly of the True Disciples of Our Lord God. That’s the name they’re incorporated under. Known informally as Healers because when they go around preaching their half-baked philosophy, they always end by saying,
love heals
.”

“They’re incorporated?”

Jess shrugged. “The Most Reverend Robert Talmadge, otherwise known to Healers as the Lamb—as in Lamb of God, you know—was a corporate lawyer in his former life. Then he got hit on the head by a bolt of lightning or something, found religion in his own peculiar way, and started this cult. When I was checking into him—I told you we did a lot of preparation for Waco, and scoping out other cult leaders who might have been able to persuade Koresh to surrender was part of it—he had control of about a billion dollars’ worth of other people’s assets and fifty thousand True Disciples spread out all over the world who would cut off their hands if he told them to. They sign everything over to him: houses, cars, trust funds, retirement savings. But there’s no law against people doing that of their own free will, just as there is no law against people joining cults. Everything Reverend Bob does is legal and aboveboard. They keep tabs on him, but the authorities can’t touch him.”

“As far as I know, murder isn’t legal.”

“Yeah, well.” He grinned at her. “You have a point. He’s crossed the line. They can touch him now. I figure what happened last night must have been the result of some sort of intracult dispute, and we got in the way. Whatever, the cops will descend on Reverend Bob like a flock of ducks on a kernel of corn when we tell them there are upward of a dozen corpses out there on the mountain, courtesy of his group.”

“How can people do such horrible things in the name of religion?”

Jess shook his head. “The world’s an insane place.”

“I keep thinking about Tim,” Lynn said softly. “He had nothing to do with it. He was killed because they were after us.”

“Yeah, Tim.” Jess’s eyes clouded, and his jaw hardened. Watching him, Lynn realized that he fought the pain and guilt of Tim’s death by pushing the murder out of his mind and carrying on as if it had never happened. Such denial, she decided, was perhaps the best way to deal with a tragedy for which there was no cure.

Lynn could tell by looking at him that he didn’t want to talk about Tim anymore, and she respected that. In fact, she understood how he felt. She didn’t want to talk or think about Tim, or the other victims either. What they had to concentrate on for the present was saving themselves.

“We’re still not out of the woods, you know,” she reminded him, glancing down at the rising water.

“You mean the water?” He looked over the edge. “It’s got about eleven feet to go before it reaches us. I’m betting it won’t get this high.”

“Oh, really? What makes you say that?” His lack of panic, groundless as it might be, was heartening.

“It’s not rising as fast as it was. Look for yourself. And most of the debris that fell was loose rock. The floor and ceiling slabs probably broke when they hit. More loose rock. Which means that sooner or later, with nothing solid in its way, the water will shift the blockage or seep through it so that it can return to its natural path.”

“Oh, great. I hope we’re still alive when it happens.”

“We will be. It should start going down in a couple of hours.”

“Assuming we haven’t drowned by then.”

“We won’t drown,” he said positively.

“What are you, psychic?”

He laughed. “Okay, listen. We won’t drown because if the water should get up this high—which it won’t because it’s just about stopped rising—it’s going to go down the tunnel behind us. Picture it like this: this room as a giant bathtub, and the tunnel as the overflow valve. The water can get only so high before it’s drained off. If that should happen we’ll still have about three feet of air above us to play with. Worst case scenario is we’ll get a little wet.”

“So what else is new?” Lynn said, absorbing his words and deciding they made sense. “I haven’t been dry in two days. And I’m freezing. What did you do with the jackets?”

Jess grimaced. “I’m afraid they got jettisoned in all the excitement.”

“Down there?” She pointed.

He nodded in confirmation.

“Great.”

His eyes moved over her. Lynn met his gaze, read his mind, and gave him a look that dared him to say anything about her Wonderbra.

“You’re all scratched up,” Jess said instead.

“The tunnel was a tight fit.” Lynn realized that she was no longer one bit cold. If anything, under his gaze she was starting to feel warm. All over.

“This one’s bleeding.” He rather gingerly shifted the lighter to his right hand and touched a scratch on her shoulder with a forefinger. About the size of a dollar bill, it was more scrape than scratch. Though tiny drops of blood beaded on its surface, it bothered her not at all.

“It doesn’t hurt,” Lynn replied, her gaze moving from his finger to his face.

“So’s this one.” His finger trailed along her collarbone, leaving a path of heat in its wake.

“I’ll live.”

“You’ve got dirt on your nose.” He touched that next, swiping the rough pad of his thumb down the slender bridge as if to wipe the grime away.

“So do you.” Lynn managed a laugh, though her heart was beating a mile a minute at what she saw in his eyes.

“You’re beautiful,” he said. “Even dirty.”

“So are you,” she responded, then bit the tip of her tongue in chagrin for what she had revealed. Telling him she found him physically attractive was probably a big mistake.

“Think so?” His eyes gleamed at her. The Bic went out. His good arm moved, sliding around her shoulders. She could feel him shifting so that he was lying down again even as he drew her with him.

Just as she’d thought,
big
mistake.

She went without resistance.

“We need to be thinking of a plan to get out of here,” she said severely, even as she battled the urge to give it up and wrap her arms around his neck.

“Anal,” he chided.

“I am not anal.” Lynn pressed her palms flat against his chest. The idea was to hold him off. Or, she thought as her hands registered the masculine allure of the chest she was touching, maybe not.

“Go ahead, lie to yourself.” He pulled her closer, and she went without even a token protest. She lay facing him, her head on his biceps again, his arm around her shoulders. His face was so near that all she had to do was lift her chin a fraction more and their mouths would meet. She knew, because her nose made tingly contact with the scratchy underside of his chin when she lifted her head that first little bit.

“So I make lists,” Lynn said. “That doesn’t make me anal.”

“If you say so,” he murmured with patent disbelief, his head tilting so that his forehead rested against hers. “Know what?”

“What?”

“Plan or no plan, until the water goes down we’re stuck.” The warmth of his breath feathered across her lips.

“We are?” She wanted to bridge the fraction of an inch that separated their mouths more than she had ever wanted to do anything in her life.

“Unless you were joking about us not being able to fit through that passage.” His voice was husky. The arm beneath her head was as taut as a stretched-to-the-max bungee cord.

“No.”

“I didn’t think so.” His nose touched hers. It was a nothing touch, really, quick and elusive, probably accidental. It sent fire shooting clear down to Lynn’s toes.

“Jess,” she said, and stopped because she had forgotten what she was going to say. One thought filled her mind to the exclusion of all else: She wanted to kiss him. She wanted to make love to him. Badly.

“Lynn.” His turnabout mimicry was both humorous and tender. She could feel the warmth of his breath against her mouth. “Lynn.”

The second time he said her name, he sounded serious.

“What?” Her heart was beating faster. Her hands curled into his shirtfront, clung.

“Remember that first day at the airport, the way you scowled at me when you caught me looking at your legs?”

“Yes.” Lynn had no trouble at all conjuring up a vision of the tall, handsome, tawny-maned stranger in skintight jeans, boots, and a cowboy hat, whom she’d caught eyeing her legs before they even said hello. She had frozen him with a look at the time, and deservedly so.

Now the memory made her hot.

“Know what I was thinking?”

“I’m afraid to ask.”

“If I have anything to say about it, that lady’s going to have one hell of a vacation fling.”

“Is that so?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

Lynn couldn’t be certain, but from the sound of his voice she thought he was smiling.

“I was planning on including myself as part of your package deal,” he added.

“For one all-inclusive price?” As she said it, Lynn found herself smiling too. That had been the wording in the brochure, after the specific listing of what the outfitters would provide. Included in the quoted price were housing, all meals, and such amenities as showers. Not included was Jess.

“Heck, you might even have been able to talk me into a discount.”

“What made you think I’d be interested in a fake cowboy?”

“Aren’t you?”

“Not then.”

“Now?”

“Maybe.”

“Maybe?”

“Maybe.”

Whether she tilted her chin the requisite fraction of an inch or he moved his head, Lynn couldn’t have said. All she knew was that after that last
maybe
his mouth was on hers.

It was firm and warm and almost unbearably tender.

Irresistible, in fact.

With a sound that was part moan, part sigh, she slid her arms around his neck and gave herself up to Jess.

L
YNN HAD NOT REALIZED
how hungry she was for him until she felt his tongue slide into her mouth. It had been a long time since she had felt real sexual pleasure, many months, even years, in fact. The boyfriends she’d had since her divorce had been few and far between, and none of them—not one—had affected her like Jess.

All he had to do was touch his mouth to hers and heat exploded inside her like a bomb filled with fiery shrapnel.

She returned his kiss wildly, burning for him, feeling as if her nerve endings had been doused with napalm and set aflame. Her arms wrapped around his neck. She clung to him, her fingers tangling in the hair at his nape. She pressed her breasts against his chest, loving the way the muscles there refused to yield to her softness. A rhythmic throbbing sprang to life inside her, and she rubbed its source against the bulge in the front of his jeans.

The drugging heat of his mouth and the hard masculinity of his body were what she had craved for what seemed like forever.

He shifted onto his back, taking her with him without breaking the kiss. The upper part of her body lay across his chest. His hand was on her breast, caressing her through the thin nylon and lace. It was large enough to cover her completely and warm enough to feel shocking against her chilled flesh. Her nipples, already hard, ached as his fingers spread and his palm flattened. Gasping, Lynn wriggled closer to encourage him. He broke off the kiss to press his open mouth to her neck.

“Oh, God.” She closed her eyes, abandoning herself to sensation. He moved so that she was once more lying beside him. The wet heat of his mouth moved down her neck to her collarbone, to the upper slope of her breast, only to be thwarted by the lacy edge of her bra.