Cassidy Page 7

  Bracing her boots against the sides of wood, she pried her fingertips in between the top two boards and pulled. Nothing happened. The boards weren’t old enough to break, and apparently, the nails weren’t old, either. Neither gave an inch.

  “I can do this,” she repeated, her jaw clenched in determination. Squeezing her fingers between the boards until her knuckles scraped, she tried again. Cassidy Dancer did not back down from a challenge. She’d lived by one rule her whole life. Where there’s a will, there’s a way. And Cassidy could be damned willful.

  She braced her feet again, stabbed her fingernails into the board, and pulled. Still nothing. Damn it. Blowing her bangs out of her eyes, a waste of effort since it was too dark to see, she threw her weight into it. Gritted her teeth. Gave it her all, and—the sturdy board creaked.

  Encouraging. I can do better.

  Squeezing her eyes tight out of sheer bullheadedness, she jerked backward and pulled the board so hard that fluid dripped out of the burn on her chin. “I. Can. Do. This.”

  The board held. So did Cassidy. She only needed this one... board... to... budge. Damn it to—

  OOMPH! It gave. She won! She also flew backwards and hit her head on the joists. Again!

  “Ouch.” She rubbed the growing goose egg beneath her scalp. Her poor head would never heal at this rate. But the wall had been breached. She was successful, just as she’d known she’d be. She dusted her scuffed up fingers over her pants and prepared for more success. The challenges life threw her way were simply about mind over matter, and she was all about winning.

  When she’d dismantled the next three boards, she kicked off her boots, but kept her socks on. Into the tunnel she went on hands and knees. Brushing spider webs out of her face and off her hair, she ran her palms over the ceiling and walls for height and width. Darkness she could handle. Closed-in places, not so much.

  Nothing but a smooth dirt surface met her touch. The ceiling was just as smooth and just as close. All she had to do was hunch her back to feel it. Overall, the tunnel was maybe three feet by three feet. Plenty of room. Maybe not for Rourke, but perfect for her.

  After travelling several feet, she came to a two-by-four frame that seemed to support the ceiling and walls. A burlap bag had been hung over it like a curtain.

  “Why would a psycho dig a secret tunnel in his root cellar?” she wondered out loud. “What do you have to hide, Lucien Cain, you big freak?”

  No light showed through the burlap, so Cassidy pushed it aside and kept going. She sensed she’d entered a wider part of the tunnel. Maybe a room. Pushing up off the ground, she stood, her hands extended to make sure she didn’t bump her poor head.

  Again, that odd odor crinkled her nose. Sweet, but medicinal. Musty, but—medicinal. Kind of antiseptic. Kind of not. More—medicinal. The musty smell of decay wafted along a draft that seemed to come from above. She waved her arms to determine the width and breadth of this new space. When she couldn’t feel anything above her, she stood taller, still feeling for a ceiling. Her fingertips touched nothing but air.

  “I’m in a room,” she announced to absolutely no one. “A big empty... ouch. What’s this?”

  Her foot had struck something solid. The discovery reduced her to her knees, waving her hands along the floor to determine exactly what she’d found. Crap. It felt round, like a—skull. A human skull with hair and leathery skin. Goosebumps skittered up her spine. She chucked the skull.

  “Damn it!” She threw herself backwards from her awful discovery. Another rounded object met her left hand while her right crashed onto a definite ribcage. Crunch. Snap. Something broke. She jerked her hands to her chest. Skulls and bones. This place was full of d-d-dead people.

  “No way!” Cassidy rolled to her hands and knees, her heart a runaway racehorse in her chest. Oomph! She ran headfirst into a wall. She’d misplaced the entrance. Exit. Whatever the hell it was.

  This was not a good time to forget how she’d gotten in there. Panic kicked her into overdrive, but she was lost in a lightless room full of the creepy dead.

  Her throat squeezed shut. She lifter to her feet, clinging to the wall, sure it would lead her back to the opening. It didn’t. Not until she’d circled the entire room and ran into more bones and bodies, some stacked on each other. Ewww!

  She cringed with every step in the dark. All those damned teenage scream flicks accompanied every step. Freddie Krueger. Michael Myers. Jason. The evil dead breathed over her shoulder and down her neck and—

  Ewww! Just ewww!

  At last, her trembling outstretched fingertips touched burlap. Cassidy dropped to her knees and hightailed it out of the morgue. By then, she was in full panic and absolutely sure one of those gruesome dead guys would grab her ankle and drag her backwards to spend eternity with them. Her heart pounded to the tinkling bells theme song from the Exorcist. By the time she burst out of the tunnel, she needed a good stiff drink, and a—

  “Where have you been?”

  “ARGHHH!” She jumped so hard that her poor skull collided with the stair joists again. Her fight-or-flight instinct pinged on fight, damn it! She struck out just in case she’d been caught and all but screamed, “What the hell?”

  “Shhhhh. Cassidy. Settle down. You’re making too much noise.”

  Oh. It’s him, that Jude guy. Her body turned to jelly. With a huge breath she collapsed onto her bed of burlap. It took a moment before she could speak over the roar of adrenaline in her head.

  Jude reached for her, making contact with her ankle first, then feeling his way to her shin with one hand. She grabbed hold of him, needing something strong to hang on to after what she’d just not seen. And she was embarrassed. She smelled like manure. She needed clean clothes in the worst way. Oh, hell! Had the entire universe conspired to humble her?

  “Are you okay?” he asked, gently pulling her into a sitting position where she couldn’t hit her head. That was kind of thoughtful, but she was damned if she could catch her breath to answer.

  “Never mind. I’ll be right back.” He dropped her hand. The cellar door squeaked open and closed.

  Cassidy scrambled to her feet. No light entered her dark world when he’d left, so it had to be the nighttime of her day from hell that wouldn’t end. She scrubbed the spooky chill from having just escaped the tunnel off her biceps, but damned if it didn’t slither up the back of her neck. Goosebumps cascaded over her shoulders and down her arms. Crap. She needed to get a lot farther away from those dead bodies.

  Cassidy settled her breathing. Maybe Jude had left the door open. Now would be a good time to sneak away, but no. He returned in too few seconds. She didn’t have time to check, but man, was he a gentleman. He’d brought a bucket of water with him. It sloshed as he crept down the steps.

  She swallowed the last of her fear. All the best scream-flick ghouls were not after her. They didn’t scare her. Much. She was Butch Cassidy Dancer, remember?

  “Hold your hands out.”

  She complied. They might have trembled a bit, but she was back in control.

  Jude placed a very rough towel and a couple of articles of clothing in her hands. “I’m sorry. I should’ve come back sooner.”

  “It’s okay. Thanks.” She brushed her embarrassment aside and stripped down to her underwear while he stood there. It was dark enough. He couldn’t see anything, and she’d already made the worst first impression a strong woman could make. Screaming like a little girl? Not her best moment.

  “I’ll be right back,” he whispered politely. “Take your time cleaning up.”

  She didn’t care if he stayed or left. “Just give me a couple minutes.”

  “No problem.” He lifted the heavy door and was gone.

  Jude had hidden a small, square piece of soap within the folded clothing, its lavender fragrance now one of her absolute favorites smells in the world of all those frilly, foo-foo handmade soaps. Cassidy couldn’t help it. Her gaze strayed in the direction of the tunnel to hell. Shaking like a lea
f, she dunked her head into the bucket of water and washed her hair. Within minutes, the odor of manure was gone. She was clean and her nerves calm.

  A quick and chilly sponge bath followed. Fumbling for the towel, she made quick work of drying off. Interesting. The clothing he’d given her felt like some kind of shorts and a long dress, not her favorite thing to wear, but okay. Beggars couldn’t be choosers. She slid the dress over her head and buttoned it. Ugh. She didn’t own a dress, much less a floor-length number with long sleeves to boot. And all those buttons. Oh, my hell. I’ll look like one of the cult sisters.

  The other garment was smaller, like a pair of baggy shorts. Bloomers? Someone else’s bloomers? Ewww again. What was he thinking? Clean or not, a woman just didn’t use another woman’s underwear. Ever. She kept her own boy shorts on her spanking clean bottom, but slid those bloomers on just in case she’d need them later. Double protection seemed like a good idea after the kind of day she’d had. Cassidy rolled her soiled clothing into a manageable bundle, and stashed the smell of Eau de Bovine in a burlap bag.

  “Damn you, Rourke. I wouldn’t have to worry about my wardrobe if you’d hustle your butt and get here.” Even she heard the petulant tone in her voice as she washed her hands one last time and prepared to greet her rescuer in a better frame of mind.

  The cellar door opened. “Did you say something?” Jude asked quietly from overhead.

  “No,” Cassidy snapped, worried he might have heard her talking to herself. “It’s just that... I mean...”

  He closed the door behind him as he descended. “It’s my fault. I shouldn’t have stayed away so long.”

  Cassidy didn’t answer. For the first time in a long time, she, the boldest, strongest, most determined gal on The TEAM, was coming undone. Her nerves were shot. She’d embarrassed herself by her cowardly retreat from the tunnel, and humiliated herself again by screeching at Jude like some hysterical woman. Absolutely nothing could top this day.

  “What time is it?” She changed the subject, needing to get her bearings once and for all.

  “’Round midnight. I brought you something to eat, too. Can you walk toward the sound of my voice?”

  And just like that, she forgot her pride. “Yes.”

  Hunger made a person very compliant. And I’m damn hungry.

  Holding her hands out in front of her, she edged closer, trying carefully to avoid falling up the steps. She had enough bumps on her head. Thankfully, Jude reached out for her, too. When her fingers brushed his, he grasped her hand and pulled her closer. Instantly, an electrical charge zipped up her arm and crackled in her chest. More like it exploded. She gasped, the current so strong it stopped her breath and her heart along with it. Sheesh. This guy had some serious animal magnetism, or she’d hit her head harder than she thought.

  With her brain circuitry overloaded, her foot snagged on a loose burlap bag. She pitched forward, right into his arms. Could anything else go wrong?

  “I’m sorry,” she squeaked out a pathetic apology. With her palm flat in the middle of his chest, she tried to push away, but not until she got a good handful of muscle. Her breath caught again. Then again when he easily bested her and circled her with two very strong arms. Owl-guy pressed her under his chin like a little girl who needed comforting. “There now,” he whispered. “It’s going to be okay. I promise.”

  That simple act of kindness became her undoing. Tears sprang to her eyes, and if there was one thing Cassidy Dancer didn’t do, it was cry like a baby, which was exactly what was happening now if she wanted it or not. She gulped back her silly, feminine emotions.

  “It’s just that...” She hiccupped, another very un-Cassidy-like reaction. For some reason, this man made her feel vulnerable and safe at the same time. He unbalanced her at the same time as he balanced her, and she hadn’t a clue how he did it.

  “It’s just that you’re hurt, hungry, and tired,” he answered for her. “You’ll feel better after you have something to eat.”

  “I suck!” She couldn’t help it, she whined. “And I’m wearing a dress.”

  He suppressed a very small chuckle, and normally, she would’ve belted anyone who laughed at her, but she didn’t belt Jude. He deserved more than a deranged woman.

  “I’m sorry.” He stroked a gentle hand over her head. “That dress was the only thing on the clothesline. I thought it would help you stay undercover better. I could check for a pair of men’s jeans if you want me to.”

  “No.” She repented instantly for her prima donna attitude. He’d only tried to help, but she’d returned his kindness by acting like a spoiled teenager in return. It was time to man up, so to speak, and stop with the poor-me attitude. “Thank you. You didn’t have to help me escape. I really am grateful.”

  “S’okay. You hungry?”

  She nodded, but didn’t step away, content to feel his shirt against her cheek for as long as he’d let her. This was the first time she didn’t feel the need to be stronger. The heartbeat beneath that shirt sounded strong enough for the two of them. He smelled good, too. Sweaty. Smoky. Manly.

  Cassidy closed her eyes to her troubles and let this all-male body strengthen her. Today was just another setback to overcome. She could do it.

  Chapter Seven

  “You smell like flowers.” With one last squeeze and that very gentlemanly comment, Jude tugged her to sit beside him on the steps. He pushed a cloth bundle onto her lap. “Here I brought food, but it isn’t much.”

  “Thank you.” Suddenly famished, Cassidy unwrapped two slices of hard bread and a greasy slice of some kind of meat.

  Jude supplied the answer to the mystery meat. “I sneaked into the kitchen. It’s just bread and cheese. Here’s some water to wash it down.”

  The water bottle wasn’t what she expected. It felt more like the kind dish detergent came in. She swallowed a big gulp. Plain old water never tasted so good.

  “Sorry I couldn’t get real food,” he said, but by then, she was tearing the bread with her teeth and snarfing it down like a ravenous wolf. She couldn’t respond with her mouth full, so she just patted where she thought his knee might be. She was right.

  Immediately, he covered her hand with his. Normally she would’ve batted any guy’s paw away, even Rourke’s, but not this time. Jude’s hand was her only lifeline in a very dark place. Just by squeezing her fingers, he seemed to pour strength into her, and she needed that more than the bread and cheese. She returned the squeeze and blinked another chorus of girly tears away, glad he couldn’t see them, either. He’d seen enough.

  “All hell broke loose when they discovered you were gone.”

  “I’ll bet,” she mumbled. “I didn’t really think I’d see you this soon. Thought maybe you left me.”

  “Yeah, well…” He had a weary tone to his voice, but his rough hand felt warm and strong. “Who are you looking for?”

  She wiggled her fingers until they interlocked with his. “Melissa McCormack,” she blurted it right out, instantly regretting her big mouth.

  “You’re a private investigator or something?”

  She hesitated telling him more.

  “I don’t blame you for not talking. It’s hard to know who to trust topside, too.”

  “Who are you?” she asked when she finished swallowing and could finally talk. Every instinct told her to trust him. She just needed to know more.

  “My real name’s Jude Cannon, but everyone here knows me as Jude Clark. Guess you could say it’s my cover.”

  “Nice to meet you, Jude Cannon. I’m Cassidy Dancer, junior agent for a covert surveillance company out of Seattle. Why are you here?”

  He blew out a big sigh. “To get my daughter out of this freak show.”

  Cassidy nodded at his astute assessment. “It’s unreal, huh?”

  “It’s wrong, is what it is. There ought to be laws against the crap these guys are pulling.”

  “There are. We just have to prove they’re breaking them.” Her confidence in Jude incre
ased. She squeezed his hand. “I met your daughter.”

  “When?” He snapped to attention, breaking the physical connection.

  “She and another little girl came down here looking for a burlap bag not too long after you left.”

  “Did she see you? Did Saffron?”

  “Only Chloe, ah, Judith. She has your eyes.”

  “I have to get her out of here.”

  Breaking the next awful news was going to be hard, so Cassidy delayed it as long as possible. After she’d finished the last crust of bread and swallowed the last drop of water, she just spat the words out. “She’s going to be blessed on the next—”

  “No, she isn’t!”

  Cassidy held her breath. The blessing wasn’t a stoppable event, and Judith had seemed willing. “She said it was her right.”

  “I don’t care what she said,” he growled. “I only just found her this afternoon. That bastard’s not touching her. Besides, she’s brainwashed. What fourteen-year-old can make a decision that big?”

  This father was going against some powerful people if he thought he could simply waltz out of this compound with his little girl. There was no way Cain or his goons would let that happen.

  “I’ve had four months to think of nothing but this day. Judith’s probably been told it’s some kind of a special ceremony, like a baptism or a confirmation. Jerusha’s probably made it sound holy and reverent, the way a real blessing might be done in a proper church.”

  “You’re right.” Cassidy handed Jude the ring. “That Greg guy gave me this, just before he tried to drown me. He’s an ass.”

  Jude’s hands encompassed hers as he felt for the ring and took it. “Do you know what this ring means?”

  “No. Course not.”

  “It’s a claiming ring. He claimed you as lost property. Now you’re his property. He’ll consummate the claiming during the next full moon, if that’s what you want to call rape.”