Risky Obsession (Wolf Security #3)

30. Lacey

CHAPTER 30

Lacey

“ J esus! What’s happening?” I yelled over the roaring water that splashed onto our ankles.

“Move!” Kane grabbed my hand, and with the strength of a rhino, he barged into the gushing water spewing from the tunnel.

“Where’s it coming from?” I yelled over the deafening noise.

The torrent was brutal, slamming into our legs like a bulldozer, and with every step, it rose higher.

“The submarine pens.”

“Why?”

“Someone’s trying to kill us!” he yelled.

“Jesus.” Gripping his hand, I fought to keep up.

“That asshole must’ve been following us.”

The water height reached my knees, and I had to force my legs into the current to keep moving.

In the narrow confines, the water sounded like an angry beast, and we were in its belly. The light on Kane’s phone bounced all over the place, adding to the chaos in my mind that was triggering my claustrophobia.

Kane squeezed my hand hard, dragging me along the tunnel. It seemed to take forever, and I couldn’t see past him to gauge how much farther to the ladder we came down.

Another explosion thundered around us, sending a shockwave through the tunnel. I screamed as debris fell from the ceiling .

The roaring water grew louder. My heart boomed in my ears.

Kane squeezed me to his chest and shone his light ahead of us.

A roar as loud as a freight train filled the tunnel.

A wall of water barreled toward us.

“Fuck!” Kane yelled.

The wave slammed into us, and I screamed as the force knocked us off our feet.

A liquid fist grabbed hold of me, and I lost my grip on Kane’s hand and tumbled over, thumping into the walls and the ground. I scraped around me for something to hold onto as I was swept back into the room. My back slammed into a wall, and I cracked my skull on the concrete.

Desperate for air, I clawed at the water. I burst through the surface and slammed my head into the roof. Crying out in pain, I searched the darkness for Kane.

“Kane!”

“I’m here!” His voice sounded muffled and was barely audible above the roar of the water. I couldn’t see him. He must have lost the phone, and our only light filtered from the ventilation shaft in the ceiling.

“Where are you?” Panic raced up my spine as I dragged my body through the water, trying to find him.

He stood with water cascading off his broad shoulders. A gash on his forehead painted an angry red streak across his face, but his eyes blazed with determination.

I fought the torrent to reach him, and my limbs were weighed down with fear as everything closed in on me: the ceiling, the walls. Water continued to pour into the room, and as I struggled to get a grip on the ground my panic hit another level.

“Grab my hand!” Kane shouted over the gushing bedlam.

Clenching my teeth, I inched toward him. Our hands met, and he pulled me through the churning current. As soon as I reached him, we wrapped our arms around each other.

“What do we do?” I clung to him like a child on his hip as the tight confines of the room threatened to engulf me.

“This way.” He barged through the water, aiming for the hole in the ceiling.

My heart hammered against my ribcage. “We’re trapped!” My voice barely cut through the noise .

The tunnel we had entered through was nearly submerged, and the water level continued to rise.

“Kane!” Panic threatened to suffocate me. “We’re going to drown!”

“No, you’re not.” He gripped onto the lip of the vent and dragged us beneath it. “Climb out through here.”

“What? You won’t fit.”

“You will.” He pulled me off his side, and grabbing my hips, he guided me forward.

The water was up to my breasts and my claustrophobia clawed at my insides like a demon.

“I’m not leaving you.” My heart hammered. “We’re getting out of here together.”

“Damn it, Lacey! Get up there.” His eyes blazed with fury.

“No. Not without you.” The water lapped over my shoulders.

“You need to go.”

“No. I’m not leaving you.”

“You’re our only chance.”

I squeezed my arms around his neck. “I can’t leave you.”

Tears stung my eyes.

“Please, Lacey. Do this for me.”

We had to hold onto the edge of the vent to keep us in place.

“I can’t.” I choked out.

“Yes, you can. I’ll be okay.”

“No, you won’t!” Tears blurred my vision. “You’ll drown.”

“Get up there. Now! Save yourself.”

“Kane, I can’t leave you. I love you.”

He crushed his lips to mine, then pulled back.

“Do this for me. Please!” His voice cracked.

My heart carved in two.

“I’ll find a way,” he said. “I can swim along?—”

“Those pipes!” I blurted.

“What?”

“The copper pipes up there. I’ll hand one down to you so you can breathe.”

“Yes. That’ll work.” He put his hands on my hips. “I’ll lift you up.”

I cupped his cheeks, and our lips met in a fierce, desperate kiss. “I’ll get help. Don’t you die on me.”

“I won’t. Be careful, Lacey. The asshole who did this is up there.”

Shit! He’s right.

“I’m going to kill that fucker.”

We looked into each other’s eyes, and when he thumbed a tear from my cheek, my heart wept.

“Please be okay.” With my heart aching, I angled beneath the two-foot-long shaft. It was going to be a tight squeeze. “Push me up.”

I lifted my hands over my head, and he lifted me into the shaft and my upper body squeezed into the tight space.

“Go, Lacey!” He squeezed my thighs as he shoved me higher.

My fingers reached the top lip, and as I pulled myself up, my hips scraped up the rough sides of the shaft. The space was tiny, sucking the air from my lungs. My eyes blurred with anger and fear.

“Good work.” Kane’s muffled words reached me.

The narrow space closed in on me, growing tighter by the second, and my ear drums felt like they were going to explode. I wriggled my hips but couldn’t move.

“I’m stuck.” Clenching my teeth, I pulled harder. “Push me up, Kane.”

Kane grabbed my ankles and shoved.

Biting down on my fury, I gripped the edge, and fighting the demons clawing at my sanity, I pulled myself up. I wriggled my elbows out and my body scraped up the walls. With a final heave, I hauled myself from the tight squeeze.

Jumping to my feet, I grabbed two copper pipes and raced back to the hole in the floor.

I peered down into the dim shaft and my heart nearly exploded. Kane’s hand was the only part of him above the water.

I fed one pipe down the shaft. He gripped it and his hand vanished beneath the water.

“Oh God. Please. Please.”

A squirt of water burst from the pipe, and a sharp hiss confirmed he inhaled. His hand reappeared and he gave me a thumbs up. In just those few seconds, the water level reached the top of his outstretched fingers.

As I lowered a second pipe into the shaft, the last of him vanished beneath the murky water.

The water rose up the shaft, coming at me like a liquid bullet .

It reached the top and spilled over the edge onto the concrete floor. But thankfully Kane’s breathing pipe was eight inches above the waterline.

I tapped his pipe with my fingernail, and a muffled groan came up the tube as he tried to talk to me.

“Jesus.” He’ll be okay. He’ll be okay. Repeating the mantra, I forced myself to get moving.

My heart pounded in my chest as I grabbed another pipe for a weapon and dashed to the edge of the door. I scanned the submarine pen area.

A tiny red glow near the mechanics bay along the far concrete pontoon caught my eye as it moved in a slow arc downward.

It’s the tip of a lit cigarette.

“There you are, you fucker,” I whispered.

As my eyes adjusted to the dimly lit submarine bay area, the man appeared in a beam of sunlight. He had broad shoulders and a red tinge to his hair. He must be the asshole who attacked us at the first hotel.

He shifted off the wall, and as he strolled along the platform, walking away from me, his hand was against his ear.

He’s on his phone.

I had to take him now, while he thought I was drowning in that room.

I peered around the corner and my heart skidded to a halt. A massive hole had been blasted into the platform. Chunks of concrete covered the area, and twisted metal stuck out of the edges like a monster had burst out of the ground. Water lapped at the edges of the giant hole.

That explained how the underground room flooded.

But why would he go to that much trouble, when he could have just killed us to get the gold?

The stench of smoke and scorched metal filled my nostrils as I searched for the asshole. He was still strolling along the platform like he had all the time in the world. He yelled so loudly at whoever was on the end of the phone that his voice bounced around the submarine pens like rolling thunder.

Gripping the copper pipe, I sprinted at the blast hole in the concrete. At the last second, I jumped over the water and landed on the other side. With adrenaline and pure fucking rage feeding my veins, I ran like a bullseye was on my back to the rear of the mechanics shed.

My wet shoes squelched, and my pace matched the thundering beat of my heart as I kept one eye on the asshole. The pipe felt good in my hand, yet I wished I had my gun. I would shoot that asshole in his back if I had to.

I darted into the mechanics shed, and breathing like I’d run a marathon, I dodged around equipment, aiming for the far side of the room. Panic clawed through me as I pictured Kane under that water, breathing through a pipe and not knowing what was going on.

He would be terrified.

The asshole’s voice drifted to me as I hid against the side of a wall. He wasn’t yelling so loud, but his tone conveyed his anger. Sucking in huge breaths to calm myself, I peeked around the corner. He still had his back to me, and his gaze was aimed at the top of the rocky avalanche we’d climbed down.

Was he waiting for someone?

Christ, I bet he is.

I leaned on a table covered in tools and sections of rope, and as I tugged off my wet shoes and socks, I tried to listen to his conversation. Although I couldn’t make out his words, his tone told me he was severely pissed off.

Good. That should keep him distracted.

I peered around the corner again.

He hadn’t moved but his yelling became louder.

I scanned the tools on the table, searching for a better weapon. Hammers and wrenches were a great option, but they required me to get close.

I decided to stick with the pipe.

Between me and the asshole was about twenty feet of concrete that was covered in equipment.

He raged into the phone with a torrent of fury that I couldn’t understand.

I exploded from behind the wall, charging at him like a deranged Doberman. The second he was in striking distance, I swung the copper pipe, hitting the side of his head with a sickening crack.

Crying out in pain, he tumbled sideways. The phone went flying. As he twisted toward me, I swung again, slamming into his windpipe.

His chin snapped upward as he fell to his knees, clawing at his throat and gasping for air.

With a primal scream, I whacked the pipe across his temple. The sickening sound of metal cracking on bone echoed around me as he keeled over like a sack of potatoes and slumped onto his side.

I kicked him onto his back and stood over him, panting heavily. His eyes were closed, and blood trickled from his nose and ear.

My hands trembled as I checked for a pulse. He was alive.

Good. I needed answers from this bastard.

I sprinted back to the mechanics shed, and as I tugged on my shoes, I surveyed the equipment on the table, searching for something to tie him up.

With my shoes on, I grabbed a length of rope and sprinted back to the first man I’d ever knocked out cold.

A surge of emotions raced through me and as I fought nausea, I rolled him onto his stomach and yanked his hands behind his back. I felt no remorse for this bastard. He could have killed us. Twice.

“Got you, you fucking asshole.” As I hog-tied his hands and feet together, I spotted his phone across the platform, next to a wooden crate.

The screen still glowed. Had the bastard on the other end heard what happened?

I yanked the rope tight enough to create welts on my prisoner’s wrists and tied off the knot. I sprinted to the phone and my heart launched to my throat as the wooden crate that had stopped it going into the water came into view.

The crate was labeled with three markings—a skull and crossbones, a flame, and a warning triangle—and lots of words that I couldn’t read, except for one: Explosiv.

The lid was up, and as I snatched the phone off the ground, I peered inside. A stack of grayish-white, cylindrical shapes rested inside.

Dynamite!

A faint, chemical smell wafted up to me. He must have used these to make that detonation. Asshole!

Backing away, I checked the phone and my mind just about exploded.

The name on the screen was Grant Hughes.