Grunting, Dade wriggled around, searching behind him for a craggy surface to rub the plastic zip tie against. Friction. He needed friction.
Friction made him think of last night.
Last night made him think of Natalie.
Thinking of Natalie made him smile.
Briefly.
The smile disappeared when he realized that if Lars cleaned out his room at the B&B and removed his Harley from the caverns parking lot, Natalie would believe he’d left town. Run out on her. She would not alert the authorities. She would not come looking for him. She would assume that he was Mr. Wham-Bam-Thank-You-Ma’am. That he’d stolen her virginity and left her cold.
That killed him. He was hurting her and he’d never intended it.
Ah shit, Natty. I’m so damn sorry
.
He cursed Lars again, sawed the zip tie vigorously against a sharp rock formation behind him. Sawed and cursed, cursed and sawed. Abraded his wrists until they were raw and bleeding, but he didn’t stop until finally the plastic zip tie weakened and gave way.
“Arrr.” He growled in triumph and leaped to his feet.
Instant dizziness hit him. His ears rang. He saw stars.
Dade put out a hand to the cave wall to steady himself. He’d once had a dog named Taser. A pit bull mix. God, he’d loved that dog, but his junkie daddy had traded Taser for a teenth of crack. God, his life had been messed up. Hell, maybe it was better if Natalie did think he’d just run out on her.
A hollow sadness dug into him and he sank back down on the ground, completely overcome by despair. He’d lost her, the shining gold star that was Natalie McCleary. Lost her before he’d had the chance to tell her how much he loved her.
He’d been afraid to love her for this very reason. Afraid that if he allowed himself to love, he’d lose her just like he lost Taser.
Boo-hoo, Vega. You gonna sit there like a whiny girl, or are you gonna do something to get out of this and go claim your woman?
Dade gritted his teeth and pushed up from the cave floor, slowly this time, prepared for the ascent.
He felt around with his foot, trying to get his bearings, and discovered he was on a rock ledge about three feet wide. Below him was a sharp drop-off.
How far down? Damn, he wished he had his penlight. He felt around for a pebble, found one, tossed it off the ledge, and listened to it fall.
Six feet down at least.
What about in front of him? How far did the ledge run before it too dropped off? Which direction led out of the cave and which led deeper into the cave?
Dade hesitated, trying to get his bearings and formulate a plan.
A faint sound caught his attention. Rats. Probably rats. Cocking his head, he strained to listen. His raspy breathing filled his ears.
There it was again, a faint tapping noise.
Probably just water dripping off stalactites. Or rats. He kept listening, waited.
There it was again. Rhythmic tapping.
It wasn’t his imagination. Three quick taps, followed by three taps spaced further apart, followed by three more quick taps. A smile spread across his face.
Morse code. SOS.
Red?
Hope surged through him. “Red,” he called out. “Red, is that you?”
The tapping sound came again, faster this time.
His smile widened. It
was
Red. It had to be his buddy. “Hang on, I’m coming for you.”
More tapping, but lower, fainter this time. Red probably couldn’t speak. Was no doubt weak as hell if he’d been trapped in here for eleven days.
“Buddy, I don’t have a flashlight. Can you keep tapping so I can find you? Doesn’t have to be a lot. A couple of taps every few minutes or so.”
Tap. Tap.
The sound echoed off the cave walls, making it difficult to figure out precisely where the sound was coming from.
The right. It was coming from his right. At least he hoped it was. Dade steeled his jaw and set his course. Keeping one hand on the wall, he moved forward, pausing every so often to wait for the next tap. At times, he called to Red, encouraging his friend to hang in there.
The farther he went, the thinner the ledge grew. It was painfully slow going in the dark. After about a half hour, the ledge became so narrow, his foot slipped.
Rocks slid under his feet and he kicked at them. The rock fell with a sharp echo. The drop-off was deeper now, from the sound of it, twelve feet or more. A tumble off the ledge could impale him on a stalagmite. Happy thoughts.
Was that what had happened to Red? He cringed. What kind of shape was his buddy in?
“Red,” he called, and waited for the tapping.
It didn’t come.
“Red? You still with me?”
A long minute passed. Two. Three.
Ah, shit.
Dade held his breath. “Red!”
Red, Red, Red
, his voice echoed back to him.
Finally, there came a faint tapping.
“Got it. Save your strength. I’m on the way.” He was on the move again, forced by the narrowing ledge to walk toe to toe. The ceiling of the cave was getting lower too. Occasional stalactites skimmed the top of his head.
Gingerly, he put out his foot to take another step and felt nothing. The ledge was completely gone.
Immediately, he tried to retreat, but the remaining rocks crumbled and Dade plunged headlong into the black abyss.
Trust that love will sustain you in your darkest hour.
—MILLIE GREENWOOD
I
t was the Fourth of July and three days had passed since Dade abandoned her. Natalie still couldn’t wrap her mind around it. Yes, she could believe that he’d flaked out. The man was terrified of his feelings, but what she could not accept was that he’d left town without finding Red. What if Dade had found Red and they’d left town together?
Her heart ached. She’d been so stupid to tell him that she loved him. She’d spooked him and he’d run away.
You don’t know that for certain
. She’d told Dade she trusted him. Now was the time to prove it.
Luckily, the Fourth of July celebrations kept her from dwelling on it too much. She had responsibilities, obligations—to her B&B guests, to her family. Everyone expected something of her. So she buried herself in work and for short stretches of time, she didn’t think about Dade.
But the nights, oh, those long, miserable nights where she had nothing to do but think, they were the worst.
For the most part, sleep escaped her. She would lie in bed, staring at the ceiling, twisting the bracelet around and around on her wrist (she couldn’t bring herself to take it off), and remembering. She recalled in crystal-clear detail everything about him—his delicious masculine scent, the taste of his lips, his lopsided smile, the scars.
So many scars.
He was right. She was naive. Naive and foolish. For believing in love at first sight, for thinking she could have a happily-ever-after with him. He’d tried to warn her. She’d give him that, but she’d ignored the signs and she’d trusted him anyway and he’d betrayed her in the most fundamental way that a man could betray a woman—abandoning her after she’d given him her heart, soul, mind, and virginity.
And yet, she loved him still.
She could no more stop her love for him than she could dam up a river with her body, and it hurt so much. She been raised on the Cupid legend, and although she’d cut her teeth on the concept of love at first sight, her belief had faltered until it happened to her. Now, she
knew
love at first sight was real, but what no one told her was how much damn pain was involved.
Love hurt.
She bought “Love Hurts” on iTunes (several versions, but her favorite was the hard, soulful rendition by Nazareth), and she played it over and over on her iPod. She cursed Cupid—the town, the stalagmite, and the Roman god.
When her family asked questions about Dade, she quickly changed the subject and distracted herself with work, and when Carol Ann asked if and when she would have an answer for Shot Through the Heart, Natalie just up and left the community center.
She had her own grief to deal with. She couldn’t handle Shot Through the Heart’s dilemma. At least Shot Through the Heart had a decision to make. When Dade left, he had taken away Natalie’s choice.
On the morning of the Fourth, she awoke with a pounding headache and her heart was heavier than it had been on the previous days. Time had worsened the pain, not improved it, as it was finally sinking in that he truly was not coming back.
The B&B emptied out early, everyone headed for the activities at Lake Cupid with picnic baskets Pearl had packed. Even Lars and Gizmo were gone. It was just Natalie rambling around the house. Zoey tried to get Natalie to come boating with her and some of their cousins, but she turned down the offer.
Listlessly, she ambled out to Dade’s room, stood in the door, with her arms crossed over her chest. She thought of Mingus Dill and Millie Greenwood and Wallis Simpson. They’d all gone to see the Cupid stalagmite and asked for heavenly intervention in their love affairs. It had worked for them, but was it simply happy coincidence? What about all the people who had written to Cupid or visited the statue whose dreams of love had
not
come true?
Those
stories never got any press. People only talked about the happily-ever-after tales.
Maybe Mingus’s and Millie’s and Wallis’s pleas had simply been self-fulfilling prophecy?
Why not go see the stalagmite? Give it a shot. It’s not like she had anything to lose.
Yes, but wasn’t that holding on to desperate hope when she should instead be trying to move on? She should forget Dade. Except she knew there would be no forgetting him.
Ever.
The Cupid Caverns were closed on holidays, but as one of Millie Greenwood’s direct descendants, Natalie had a key to the padlock that secured the front gate.
She went to the front desk, opened the desk drawer, and reached for the key. It wasn’t in its usual slot. She rifled around in the desk and finally found it. Zoey must have used it. No doubt sneaking in after the caverns were closed with some of her friends. Had Zoey had copies made? She’d have to check on that.
Pocketing the key, she then went to put a flashlight, a bottle of water, and a couple of PowerBars in her tote bag. Because Zoey and her cousins had taken the van, she walked next door and asked Junie Mae to give her a ride up to the caverns.
“Sugar, why are you going up there?” Junie Mae asked.
“I need to be alone.”
“It’s about Dade, isn’t it?”
Natalie nodded mutely. If she said anything, she’d burst into tears.
J
unie Mae pulled up into the cavern parking lot. “When do you want me to come back and get you?”
“I’ve got my cell phone. I’ll call Zoey to come get me when I’m ready.”
“You sure? We could go back to my place and get drunk on margaritas.”
“I’d be poor company.”
“Sweetie, I’m so sorry things didn’t work out between you and Dade.” Junie Mae squeezed her arm.
“Thanks.” Natalie hopped out of the car quick before she broke down. She waved as Junie Mae pulled out of the parking lot.
She trudged to the front gate and unlocked it and then clicked the lock closed again behind her. She didn’t want anyone else coming in. She needed solitude. Hopefully, Zoey hadn’t had copies of the key made and distributed among her friends.
The caverns were eerie in their silence. She’d been visiting this place since before she could walk, and it still moved her every time she entered nature’s cathedral. The wall sconces stayed on all the time, so she wasn’t in the dark. She inhaled the musty air, and with a heavy heart, limped down the path toward the Cupid Cave.
She imagined her great-grandmother Millie walking this same path, in similar despair. History. Tradition. Her blood ran thick with it.
The Cupid formation looked as ancient as Roman ruins. The sight of the stalagmite never failed to move her. Pretty damn majestic. It was easy to understand the town’s fascination with the thing. In the hushed quiet, it felt like hallowed ground.
Natalie knelt at the stalagmites, closed her eyes, and clasped her hands. “Dear Cupid, please, please let him come back to me.”
She knelt there waiting, but the despair did not lift. She did not feel comforted.
Slowly, she opened one eye, and stared at Cupid. “Work with me here. I’ve been answering letters on your behalf for ten years, the least you could do was give me some kind a sign.”
A drop of water dripped on her from a stalactite.
“That’s it? That’s all I get?”
Another plop of water hit her square on her upturned forehead.
“Message received loud and clear. I get it. You’re trying to tell me I’m all wet. Thanks for nothing.” She dragged herself to her feet, sighed, and turned to leave.
And that’s when she saw something she’d never before seen in the cul-de-sac cave—an open passageway leading deeper into the caverns.
P
ain.
So much friggin’ pain.
Dade lay in the darkness engulfed in pain.
His shoulder felt like a giant had taken him by the arm and pulled it from his socket the way little boys dismantled grasshopper appendages. He kept drifting in and out of consciousness. Was he dreaming? If he was dreaming, he’d better wake the hell up.
Nausea roiled in his stomach. Hard, sharp objects poked into his back. Fear and worry and hopelessness closed around him.
He heard tapping again. Red. His buddy was tapping.
Days had gone by. He didn’t know how many. He’d lost all track of time. He knew Red was nearby, but he had no idea how close. Dade had talked to Red, but his buddy was too weak to do more than utter an occasional soft whisper that he could barely understand.
Since his fall into the pit Dade had slowly pieced together over time that Red had grown suspicious about the number of kids coming into Chantilly’s who appeared to be underage, and yet they all had what appeared to be valid driver’s licenses. Red’s suspicions had also been aroused by the number of illegal immigrants who came to the back porch at the bar looking for Lars or Gizmo.
Early one Sunday morning when he was out for a walk, he’d seen Lars and Gizmo opening the padlock and slipping into the caverns on a day they were closed. He had wondered about it, but it hadn’t really seemed suspicious until June 19, the night he’d gone to Marfa.
Stan had told him he’d heard from a friend of his in law enforcement that there was an investigation into drivers’ licenses and ID forgeries in southwest Texas. Red didn’t have anything concrete to take to the authorities other than his Navy SEAL sixth sense, so he’d decided to follow Lars and Gizmo and see if he could find out what they were up to.
That’s when he’d found their secret room inside the Cupid Cave. They’d caught him, but he’d managed to get off the “Tanked” Mayday text to Dade before escaping deeper into the cave.
He’d only had the light of his cell phone to guide him, but it hadn’t been enough to keep him from plunging off the ledge. He’d lost his phone in the fall and Dade had been his only hope of rescue. Lars and Gizmo had left him for dead. He’d survived this long only because the SEALs had taught him to always be prepared and he always carried a package of peanuts and beef jerky in his pocket. He’d rationed out the food, nibbling a bit every day until it was gone, and he drank the moisture that dripped down the cave wall.
Now, Dade was in the exact same predicament.
Odd how irony was usually not the least bit funny.
“Hey, now we can die together.” Red had given a raspy cough when he finally concluded the story that had taken days to tell, before lapsing into a silence so long that Dade got scared. Red had been down here for two weeks with a broken leg. He had to be close to death. Only his stubbornness and strength of will had kept him alive this long.
Dade had tried to drag himself from the pit, but with a dislocated shoulder and no flashlight, his attempts had been quickly defeated. He’d been lying here trying to formulate some kind of plan, but his brain wasn’t cooperating. He hadn’t had anything to eat since his last meal with Natalie in her bed, although he’d taken Red’s cue and drank the water tracking down the cave walls. His reasoning was fuzzy and he kept dozing off, and then through the mist of shifting consciousness, he thought he heard something.
Footsteps.
Was he hallucinating?
Grunting against the pain in his shoulder, he forced himself to sit up. Was Lars or Gizmo coming back to finish them off? Once the blinding pain eased off a bit, he concentrated on listening.
Yes, footsteps.
“Red,” he whispered. “You hear that?”
Red tapped weakly.
“Christ, it’s got to be Bakke or the punk kid. Who else could it be?” Dade asked.
The footsteps grew louder.
All his muscles tensed. The person—it sounded like one set of footsteps—was moving in a slow, halting gait, clearly having trouble navigating the narrow rock ledge.
Several long moments passed.
Dade’s pulse slammed through his head. They were sitting ducks. God, he hated this. He gritted his teeth. Had Bakke come to shoot them? Maybe that wouldn’t be so bad. Put them out of their misery.
Except that he would never see Natalie again. His gut wrenched. He’d had three days to adjust to that reality, and yet, he had not. The thought of never touching her again ripped him apart.
There was a thin play of light on the cave wall above the pit where he and Red were lying.
Desperately, he felt around for a weapon, a rock, anything to throw at whichever captor was about to appear, and the hand of his good arm closed over a baseball-sized stone.
C’mon you son of a bitch, I’m not going down without a fight.
He had to get back to Natalie or die trying.
The flashlight beam bobbled directly above their heads. As the footsteps grew closer, they became more defined, and Dade identified a slight dragging sound.
He knew that gait! It was very dear to him.
Then a beloved face appeared in the darkness.
It wasn’t Bakke or Gizmo on the narrow ledge above them, but Natalie!
A
few feet ahead of her, the ledge path that she’d been following dropped off into darkness.
Natalie paused, confused. After seeing the opening in the Cupid cave, she’d found the lever mechanism inset into the cave wall and camouflaged as a rock formation.
The second she saw it, Natalie knew this had to be the mythical secret room the old-timers whispered about, the place where bootleggers had stored illegal bottles of alcohol during Prohibition. She’d never really believed in that rumor, but she was proven wrong.
She’d followed the narrow passage, and several feet inside found an empty room. There was a second door on the opposite side of the room. What she couldn’t figure out was how the passageway had gotten opened in the first place. Had the lever mechanism somehow just sprung open on its own?
“Hello?” she’d called out into the darkness.
There had been no answer.
Hitching her tote bag up on her shoulder, she’d opened the second door.
It led deeper into the cavern. Excitement had raced through her. This looked like the place where Mingus Dill supposedly holed up from the posse. The lure of Cupid’s history drew her deeper inside.
She tugged her flashlight from her tote, happy to have something to think about besides her ruined love affair with Dade. The path was littered with rocks and pebbles. There was no upkeep back here. No caretakers to clear the way. This was raw, original, unsullied by visitors. It was an adventure.