Power’s Fall (Trinity Masters: The Spaniard #1)

Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

M ontana stood at the mouth of the cave, shaking his head, even as he knew they had no other options here. It was either walk in or hang out here until Sinaver and his militia captured them. The idea that the Spaniard wanted Vadisk for answers, answers his husband wouldn’t want to give, meant it wouldn’t just be capture.

It would be capture and torture.

Vadisk and Dahlia were just a few feet inside when, as one, they stopped and turned toward him.

“Fuck,” Vadisk cursed, changing direction, Dahlia still holding on to the back of his pants. “Montana,” he started. “We don’t… We don’t have any other options.”

“I know. I know.” Montana glanced over his shoulder, fighting like the devil to move. “And I swear to God, I’m trying to make myself walk in there.”

Dahlia reached out, taking his hand in hers. “We’ll help each other. I need you to be my eyes.”

Montana hadn’t thought there was a single thing that could convince him to step into the cave.

Dahlia found it.

She did what he struggled with, swallowed her pride and asked for help. That was when he realized there was nothing he wouldn’t do for her. One week in, and he was already head over heels in love with his wife.

Montana held on to her hand, loosening his grip when he saw her wince. “Sorry,” he mumbled, taking a few steps into the cave. “Maybe Vadisk should guide you.”

Dahlia shook her head. “You. We’re doing this together.”

Vadisk pulled a large flashlight out of his pack, cupped his hand over the front, and then clicked it on. Some light escaped around his fingers, giving them enough light to see by. He led the way, remaining just a step in front of them, moving slower this time, as if anticipating Montana’s change of heart.

His husband was no fool because Montana was sure as shit considering turning back and making a run for it.

“Vadisk, can I use my flashlight?” Dahlia asked.

“Not yet. Just another two or three meters.”

The floor of the cave was a sheet of hard-packed wet sand that muffled their steps, and he focused on the slight crunching sound it made as they walked.

“Now,” Vadisk said.

Dahlia’s free hand fumbled with the clip-on flashlight Vadisk had given her earlier, turning it on and illuminating the sand and rocks under their feet. She clung to his hand, pushing closer to him. Montana wasn’t sure if Dahlia was planning to be the first line of defense in halting his escape or if she was fighting her own panic at not being able to see much. Maybe—probably—it was both.

He wanted to ask if she was okay, but he was struggling to draw in air, his lungs seizing. He broke out in a cold sweat, shivering in the chilly dampness of the cave.

Montana glanced over his shoulder, tripping over his feet and stumbling to a stop. He shouldn’t have done that. Shouldn’t have looked back. The mouth of the cave was no longer visible.

He tried to swallow, but his mouth had gone dry as dust. The walls were closing in, the space getting tighter and tighter. The thudding of his heart was loud in his ears. Too fucking loud.

His eyes flew around at the rock walls encompassing them. They looked…loose. God, what if the walls started to collapse? They’d be buried alive in the rubble, drowning in an airless tomb.

Dahlia released his hand, grasping his arm and pulling it around her waist. Then she wrapped her own arm around him. She was tucked tight to his side, but he couldn’t glance down at her, couldn’t check on her. He had to keep his eyes glued to the walls, just in case they started to cave in. He had to be ready to run, ready to get them out of here.

Vadisk paused for a moment, turning to check on them. Rather than shine his flashlight directly in their eyes, he focused it lower, beneath their waists, so that he could see them without blinding them.

Montana had expected Vadisk to comfort and reassure Dahlia first. Though, given it was pitch-black in the cave, they were all essentially in the same boat—only able to see what the flashlights illuminated.

When his husband’s gaze landed on him and remained, Montana realized he was the weaker link.

“Fuck, Montana. You need to breathe.” Vadisk stepped in front of him.

Dahlia released him, moving next to Vadisk. He adjusted the flashlight, pointing it at Montana’s waist. That must have illuminated him enough for Dahlia to see because her gaze now focused on his face, when a second ago, she’d been looking just to his left.

She reached out, her hand landing on his chest, directly over his heart. Then she grabbed one of his hands and placed it over hers. “You’re having a panic attack. I can hear it. Breathe with me,” she said softly. “In and out.”

Montana tried to do what she asked, but he couldn’t concentrate, too focused on the walls. Was that a bit of gravel coming loose? Was the cave starting to collapse?

“Breathe in for four seconds. Okay good, now hold that breath for a count of seven. That’s it, now exhale slowly.” Dahlia’s voice sounded like it was coming to him from underwater, the words muted, far away.

A strong hand grasped the back of his neck. “Look at me, Montana. Fucking look at me.”

Montana slowly shifted his gaze to Vadisk, who was standing close, less than two feet between them.

“Keep your eyes on me,” he demanded. “And do as Dahlia says. Breathe.”

Montana started to look away. He needed to see the walls, needed to be ready to run when?—

Vadisk shook him roughly, his hands cupping his cheeks, gripping him so tightly that Montana couldn’t turn his head. “Look. At. Me.”

“The walls,” Montana started to say, his voice raspy. There wasn’t a drop of saliva in his mouth.

“The walls are strong, steady. We’re safe in here,” Vadisk insisted.

Montana wanted to shake his head, but his husband held him too firmly.

“Now fucking breathe!”

It was only then that Montana realized Dahlia’s hand was still on his chest, that she’d kept up a steady dialogue, her voice calm and soothing. “Inhale, two, three, four. Hold, two, three, four, that’s good, six, seven. Now exhale nice and slow. Three, four, five, six…”

“Do it with her,” Vadisk commanded.

Montana tried to mimic Dahlia’s actions, but there wasn’t enough air in the cave for both of them. They needed to get out of here before they asphyxiated.

“No air,” he gasped.

“There is,” Vadisk said. “Lots of it. Get some into your lungs.”

Gray spots formed in front of his eyes and Montana started to feel lightheaded, dizzy. He lifted his free hand, reaching out for…something.

Vadisk grabbed it and slapped it against the cold stone wall. “Feel it. It’s solid rock. Been here thousands of years. And it will be here for thousands more. Breathe now, or I swear to God, I’ll knock you out so that your unconscious brain does it for you.”

Montana considered that option, thinking it the best one. He almost said so, but…

“In,” Dahlia said again, her mantra never ceasing.

This time, he felt some air slip in as he instinctively did what she said. He expelled it quickly, gasping in some more. While her breaths were steady, his were more like the bellows of a horse after running the Kentucky Derby. However, air was going in. His lungs were opening and his vision was starting to clear.

“You. Can’t. Knock. Me. Out. Have to…be able…to run,” he said between panting breaths.

Vadisk smiled, lightly slapping his cheek. “There you are.”

For a few minutes more, they remained where they were, Dahlia guiding his breathing. “In. That’s right, now hold it. And…release. Exhale nice and slow.”

Vadisk’s strong hand held steady around the side of his neck, comforting him, supporting him. By the time the panic attack had receded and his breathing was somewhat back to normal—his breaths were still too shallow, too quick—he was overcome by a wave of exhaustion so thick, he suspected he could curl up in a corner and sleep for days.

“I’m okay,” he lied.

His spouses nodded, even though he could see neither believed him.

“We need to keep going,” Vadisk spoke softly, his words laced with an apology. “We’re still too close to the entrance. There’s a place deep—” He stopped, choosing different words. “There’s a good place for us a little farther along where we can rest for a few minutes and discuss what to do next.”

Montana had one goal right now and it was getting the hell out of here. He wasn’t sure how much help he’d be when it came to plotting next steps.

He licked his dry lips and nodded. Talking was beyond him right now.

Even in the dimness of the cave, Vadisk seemed to understand that while his panic was under control, Montana’s grasp on it was tenuous at best. He retrieved his backpack from Dahlia and opened it, rifling through until he pulled out a bottle of water. He uncapped it and handed it to him.

“Drink,” he ordered.

Montana didn’t need to be told twice. Cottonmouth was a common side effect of his claustrophobia. He’d probably drunk an ocean of water during his time stationed on the submarine.

He drank the entire bottle before realizing how stupid and greedy that was. They should be rationing the water. “Sorry,” he said hoarsely, handing Vadisk the empty bottle.

Vadisk stashed the bottle in his bag and zipped it back up. “We’re fine. Don’t worry.”

Putting the bag on his back, he cupped Montana’s cheek fondly, then bent over to give Dahlia a kiss on the forehead. “You good to keep walking with Montana? I need to focus on the map.”

Dahlia nodded and reached out for him. Montana tucked his arm around her shoulders, pulling her close, appreciating the heat she was sharing. The cave was cold and his clothes were drenched from his swim through the sea. He had to clench his jaw tightly to keep his teeth from chattering.

She nuzzled against his chest. “We’ll take care of each other.”

Once again, his beautiful wife had found the words to soothe him. And now, Montana was starting to suffer other consequences of his panic attack.

Embarrassment. Guilt. Shame.

He could hear his father yelling in his ear, calling him weak, chastising him for putting the mission at risk.

Vadisk began walking again, slowly. He looked over his shoulder every few feet, though Montana wasn’t sure if he was doing a wellness check or making sure he wasn’t running back the way they’d come. It was a smart thing to do because him falling apart or trying to escape were both very real possibilities. Especially when the cave became tighter, Vadisk having to duck and turn sideways. A few times, Montana was forced to put Dahlia in front of him because they wouldn’t fit side by side.

Every time the walls widened, she was back by his side, her hand finding his chest. With each step they took, she whispered the words, “In. Hold. Out,” ensuring he remembered to breathe.

Montana wasn’t sure how long they walked, every minute feeling like a lifetime, but after approximately a hundred years, Vadisk paused, feeling what appeared to be a solid wall in front of them. He’d led them into a dead end.

Montana started to pant, even as he forced himself to attempt Dahlia’s counting.

“What is it?” she asked, curious about why they’d stopped.

“We have. To turn…around.” Montana gasped with each word.

“No. We don’t,” Vadisk said confidently. “It should be…” He paused. “Right here,” he added as he flashed the light into one corner. “Found it. This is going to be,” Vadisk sighed, “a little bit of a tight squeeze. I’ll go first, then help you through, Dahlia, and then I’ll come back for you, Montana.”

“Is there an exit that way?” Montana asked.

“Yes,” Vadisk reassured him.

“Then I’ll do it. I have to…” He was winded, each word costing him. But he knew they’d come too far already, taken too many twists and turns for him to find his way back to the entrance.

“Okay. Let’s move.” Vadisk had the big flashlight, so Montana felt a brief moment of panic when the light disappeared, leaving only the narrow beam of Dahlia’s flashlight illuminating the floor. Then Vadisk reappeared, holding out his flashlight to Montana, who gripped it like a lifeline.

Vadisk backed up until all that was visible was his hand reaching out, taking Dahlia’s.

It looked like a magic trick. One second, Dahlia was there, then, she was gone.

“What the fuck?” Montana breathed.

“The walls overlap. It looks solid, but it’s not.” Vadisk’s voice was muffled but audible.

He said he’d come back for Montana, but Montana wasn’t going to wait. Breathing in the rhythm Dahlia had been chanting for him, he slid around the edge of the rock wall, into the narrow opening.

“Montana?” Vadisk said in surprise.

“Keep going,” he panted.

It took them a few minutes, Vadisk guiding Dahlia through the maze of stone from the front, Montana only a few steps behind them. There were several tense moments when Montana froze, certain they were wedged in too tight, stuck.

Then Vadisk reached back, over Dahlia’s shoulder, and tugged him forward, until he was almost pressed against Dahlia’s back. He didn’t want that contact, not when he already felt like everything was pressing down on him. But when Dahlia curled her fingers around the buckle of his belt as she started forward, it grounded him.

By the time they broke free, his entire body was trembling with exertion and panic.

“We made it,” Vadisk said, an echo following his words.

Montana swept the beam of Vadisk’s flashlight around. He’d led them into what looked like a cavern. The rock walls stretched taller here, the ceiling perhaps ten or twelve feet high, and the air smelled clear, with a hint of the sea. There must have been fissures that let in fresh air.

“We’ll stop here for a few minutes,” Vadisk said, shrugging off his backpack and opening it. He took the flashlight from Montana and set it down so it was standing on its end, then switched it to lantern mode, the handle now illuminated. It wasn’t all that bright, but Dahlia relaxed a little. She must be able to see at least something. Vadisk pulled out a thin blanket that he placed on the floor, encouraging them to sit on it with him. Then he rummaged through his pack again, pulling out three nutrition bars.

“I’m curious what else you’ve packed in that bag,” Dahlia said with a slight smile. “Any wine? Cheese and crackers?”

Vadisk chuckled. “Sorry. I’ll add those to my list of essentials the next time I’m packing a survival kit. We don’t have long because if we know about these caves, you can be certain Sinaver and his militia do.”

Montana hadn’t had his wits about him enough to consider that. “So what’s to stop Sinaver from posting men at every exit to arrest us as soon as we walk out?” He wished that question hadn’t sent his heart racing again. He rubbed his hands on his thighs, fighting against the numbness setting in at the thought of something other than a cave-in keeping them trapped here.

“Nothing. However, the passage we’re now in isn’t on any map of the caves we could find.” He passed over a piece of folded paper. It was a simple map with a logo in the corner of what looked like a cave exploration company. An addition had been added in red pen, showing a long, curving path that led from one of the smaller lines on the root-like map to a small beach. “It was discovered by a Turkish spelunker who was on holiday here a few years ago. He also happens to be a security officer for the Ottoman territory. He kept the passage a secret but shared its existence with his admiral.”

“Why did he keep it a secret?” Dahlia asked.

He shrugged. “Ottoman members are shady fuckers and paranoid to boot. I’m not sure I even believe the guy was spelunking.”

Vadisk had dropped a few similarly disparaging comments about the Ottoman territory in conversation over the past few days. When Montana had asked him what his problem was with Ottoman, he’d told them about a decades-long dispute over some land, Hungary insisting it should be part of their territory. Apparently, Ottoman refused to give it up, which pissed off Nikolett. Vadisk, of course, sided with his admiral.

“So no one knows about the exit we’re taking?” Montana clarified, praying that was true. Because impending arrest or not, he wasn’t staying in here much longer.

“As far as we know, it’s secure.”

That reassurance wasn’t as comforting as Montana might have hoped.

“Alright. Let’s discuss our next step,” Vadisk said, clearly ready to get down to business.

Dahlia was studying the map that Montana had passed her. She had it inches away from her face and had taken the clip flashlight off her belt to shine it on the paper. “Once we get to this beach, is there another boat?”

“No.” Vadisk sighed. “The rest of plan B involves us waiting at the tiny mouth of the cave until someone can arrange for a fishing boat to pass by. We swim out to the fishing boat, they take us as far out as they can, and then we use an inflatable power boat—that they give us—to reach the rendezvous in international waters.”

Montana shook his head. “Sinaver will have people combing the coastline to look for us.”

“Yeah, plan B was about getting us out if something happened to the boat—like it was stolen or the anchor failed. It wasn’t designed to help us evade capture.”

Dahlia looked up. “Is there a plan that helps us evade capture?”

Vadisk scrubbed his face with his hands. “Not one that we can implement right now.”

“What if we get away from the coast and steal a car?” Montana suggested. “We drive to Ukraine.”

“We’d never make it that far. He’ll have people watching for us, and they’ll stop us before we ever get to the border itself.”

“Stow away in someone else’s vehicle?” Dahlia asked.

Vadisk shook his head. “Too risky. Normally I’d say we fly out, but given the fact Crimea is restricted air space at the moment, I can’t hijack a helicopter.”

“You can fly a helicopter?” Montana asked, momentarily distracted from the cave-in survey he’d continued to maintain as they spoke. “I thought you were ground forces in the military.”

“I was. Got my pilot’s license right after joining the Masters’ Admiralty. Offered me options for transporting Nik in and out of risky places.”

Montana’s gaze slipped to Dahlia’s face. While Vadisk hadn’t noticed it, Montana had picked up on the way she looked uneasy every time their husband mentioned his admiral. As he’d anticipated, Dahlia frowned, her brow creasing as she bit her lower lip. They’d tabled the discussion on future living arrangements until they left Crimea. Given Vadisk’s intense loyalty to Nikolett, Montana worried he’d choose to remain in Ukraine, which could possibly mean a long-distance relationship until Montana finished his dissertation.

He closed his eyes wearily. That was tomorrow’s problem.

“So we can’t drive, fly, or take a boat? What the hell else is there?” Dahlia was quiet for a moment. “Is our only option to turn ourselves in?” She sounded resigned but not afraid.

Vadisk raked his fingers through his hair. “No. What I’m proposing is way crazier than that.”

Montana and Dahlia exchanged a quick, concerned glance.

“What do you want to do?” Montana forced himself to ask, worried to hear the answer. He considered himself a fairly brave person, but the last hour or so had taken its toll on him, and courage was in short supply at the moment.

“We complete the mission.”

Dahlia was clearly confused.

Unfortunately, Montana wasn’t. “Surely you’re not suggesting?—”

Vadisk looked him dead in the eye. “The Spaniard is the one who knows about the Masters’ Admiralty. He’ll be at Sinaver’s later today. I need to go.”

“What do you mean you need to go?” Montana demanded.

Vadisk scowled. “It’s too dangerous. There’s no way I’d let the two of you?—”

“Let us?” Dahlia raised one brow, looking both pissed and slightly dangerous.

Vadisk rubbed the back of his neck wearily. “That came out wrong. What I meant?—”

“No,” Montana interjected. “I think it came out exactly the way you intended. You’re trying to protect us while putting your own neck on the line. Let me just go ahead and say, there’s no way in hell you’re going into Sinaver’s house alone. This was our mission. Ours,” he stressed.

Vadisk shook his head, but Montana refused to relent.

“What happens when you find this Spaniard? How the hell do you think you can get in, grab the man, question him, and then get back out again?”

Vadisk looked slightly chagrined. “I thought I could figure it out once I got there.”

“Wow. Improvising? That’s some top-tier planning right there.” Dahlia’s arms were crossed. She was not amused by any of this.

“Or,” Montana said, “ we figure it out now. We all go in. We get the Spaniard?—”

“Take him and Sinaver as our hostages, and use them to get ourselves a tank and a military escort to the border,” Dahlia said.

Montana and Vadisk both stared at her. Montana cleared his throat. “Not sure how well you can see our expressions, but we’re both a little freaked out.”

“Speak for yourself. I’m turned on,” Vadisk rumbled.

Dahlia laughed. “I was kidding. Mostly.”

“But taking a hostage is going to be our safest bet.” Vadisk’s tone was pure “mission ops” briefing, and Montana sat up a little straighter, focusing in on the plan. “If we could take both the Spaniard and Sinaver, that would be good, but it’s too risky. We can only control one hostage.”

Montana nodded his agreement. “We take Sinaver.”

“Not the Spaniard?” Dahlia asked.

“No.”

“Then why are we going to Sinaver’s house while the Spaniard is there?” she asked.

Vadisk replied before Montana could. “At the very least, we’ll get a good look at him. If we’re lucky, maybe we can ask him some questions.”

“We’re going to do some black ops interrogation while deep in enemy territory?” Dahlia demanded.

“If we can. Wouldn’t take me long,” Vadisk murmured in a tone that said he was speaking from experience.

“We get in, get a good look at the Spaniard, maybe question him, and take Sinaver hostage,” Montana summed up.

“But how do we actually leave Crimea?” she asked.

“Boat,” Vadisk and Montana said at the same time.

“Our last boat was blown up by a rocket launcher,” Dahlia said slowly, as if worried they’d forgotten.

“This time, we’ll have Sinaver with us on the boat. They can’t blow it up without killing him,” Montana said, then to Vadisk. “You’ll handle Sinaver and I’ll pilot the boat.”

“And this boat that won’t get blown up… We’re going to steal it?” she asked.

“Yep.” During their lazy day yesterday, Montana had looked through Sinaver’s phone and found some very interesting things. His lips twitched because he was pretty sure he knew what Dahlia was going to say next.

“Does that make us pirates?”

Montana grinned.

Vadisk peered at their wife. “I can’t tell if you’re upset or turned on by that idea.”

“I’m not sure either. Let me think about it.”

Montana’s smile turned into a full-on laugh.

Vadisk smiled at him as if Montana’s laugh was a gift. Jesus. He’d just gotten his heart to stop racing, but damn if Vadisk and Dahlia hadn’t found a way to get it starting again, in a much better way.

Then Vadisk’s expression went flat, back to mission ops mode. He looked at his watch. “The Spaniard said he’d be there by afternoon. That means we need to be in place, in Sinaver’s house, by eleven a.m.”

“That’s not a lot of time and we have a lot of ground to cover,” Montana said grimly.

“If it’s daylight outside, I’ll be faster,” Dahlia promised, looking worried.

Daylight or not, they couldn’t do this all on foot, it had been a long drive to Sinaver’s place. “We’re going to need a vehicle.”

“And how are we going to get into Sinaver’s house once we get there?” Dahlia asked.

“If we’re lucky,” Vadisk said slowly. “We’ll be able to take care of both issues at the same time.”

“Okay.” Montana leaned forward. “What’s the plan? Where are we going?”

“Back to Crimean Sky.”