Dead Ringer (37 page)

"Only a little bit farther. Can you make it?" She swiped at her own sticky forehead.

His mouth twisted up in the semblance of a grim smile. "Do I have... a choice?"

"No."

"Okay, then. Let's go before you ... change your mind."

She pocketed the penlight to free both hands so she could maneuver them through the narrow opening. Crabbing sideways, she slid through first, half pulling, half dragging him behind. He cursed the whole way, each word laced in agony.

When they finally made it to the other side, she turned the penlight back on and panned his face. He leaned against the pile of rubble, eyes closed, face gray.

"Please tell me you don't have... anything else as... entertaining as that lined up for me."

"No promises." She repositioned herself beneath his arm and they made the slow, excruciating journey down the passageway, off to the left fork, and up to the ladder.

"You're kidding," he said when she panned over it with the light.

"Afraid not."

She unwrapped his arm from around her shoulders so she could test the lower rungs. The minute she let go of him, he sank to the ground.

"Sorry," he murmured.

She looked down at him. He was pale and drawn; there was no way he'd ever make it up.

"You have to leave me, Angel."

She shook her head, not wanting to even hear that option. "I can't."

"Yes, you can. I'll be... fine."

"No. The mine could cave in again, the air could run out, you could-"

"Angel," he cut into her panicked rambling, and she took a breath, trying to control the fear spinning through her. "Come here. And stop... shining that thing in my face. You'll run down the... battery."

She sat beside him and switched off the penlight. In the darkness, his ragged breathing seemed louder and more labored.

"Give me your hand." His voice echoed in the darkness. She fumbled for a minute, but finally found his fingers. He squeezed hers, rubbing his thumb over the inside of her wrist "I want you to... do this. I know you can. Leave me here. Find a phone. Call Roper. Tell him what happened." He was running out of energy, his words slowing. "About Marian. Tell him... get men out here. Get Marian."

"I'll tell him to get
you
out of here."

He squeezed her hand again. "Marian first."

"But-"

"Promise."

"I-"

"Promise."

"All right, damn you. I promise."

He sighed and the hand gripping hers went slack.

"Finn?" She switched on the light, saw he'd fainted again. Another burst of fear sliced through her. Goddamn uptight, fricking hero. Why the hell couldn't he be a selfish bastard? Why the hell couldn't he think about himself first?

Because he wouldn't be Sharkman if he did, and you wouldn't love him.

Fear turned into a soggy lump at the back of her throat that erupted in a sob and splintered into tears.

All right, so she loved him. She'd done plenty of stupider things in her life.

Well, maybe not.

She swiped at her eyes, but the tears kept coming.

What the hell are you crying for? Crying's not going to get him out of here.

Standing around like a baby, waiting for, jeez, what the hell was she waiting for?

She sniffed back a shuddering breath and took a last glance at Finn. Sweat and dirt slicked his face, his makeshift bandage was seeping blood again; she didn't even want to think about what his leg looked like. But in spite of the mess, he looked good to her, and she didn't want to lose him.

"Don't you die on me," she said. He was out cold so he didn't reply, but his stillness seemed a silent reproach. "Okay, I'm going. I'm going."

She switched off the penlight and placed it in his still hands. Then she fumbled in the darkness for the ladder, put her foot on the first rung, and swung herself up. The rung held and she began climbing.

CHAPTER
22

The ladder led to an ancient trapdoor above her head. Without the light Angelina couldn't see if it was held by a lock, but a blind search only turned up a gummy lattice of cobwebs. She shoved on the damn door and it rained down debris and spiderwebs, but held fast. Swearing, she pounded until her knuckles bled and her shoulder and elbow were sore. Finally she budged it open, bit by creaking bit.

Relief washed over her as she poked her head out, taking in huge mouthfuls of the fresh morning air and blinking in the bright sunlight. The sunshine was a bitter reminder that the rest of the world went on fine without her or Finn, thank you very much, and would continue to do so, whether she got him out alive or not.

She slammed a mental door on the "or not." She wouldn't think about that. Or about the way she'd left Finn, his body broken and exhausted by pain.

Crawling out, she dusted herself off, wiped blood and bits of skin from her knuckles, and glanced around, orienting herself. Over her shoulder the three protuberances of Devil's Teeth loomed large and close; she was on the mountain.

A path overgrown with gray-green scrub and brush wound away from the trapdoor. One edge of the crude road butted up to the mountain, the other overlooked a nasty drop.

Don't look.

No, she wouldn't.

Ignoring the flutter in her stomach, she hugged the mountainside and scurried down. She stumbled a few times, going faster than she felt safe, but the thought of that unstable spur, split down the middle and holding up what was left of the mine, drove her on.

The path snaked down rocky and uneven, but she made steady progress for nearly ten minutes. Then she skidded to a stop.

A rockslide blocked her way.

She groaned. How about a break here?

You're alive. That's a pretty big one.

Right.

Okay, so she wouldn't whine. She'd find a way around this stupid rock pile.

But when she trudged the length of the slide, the path was blocked on all sides. She stared up at the mound. God. Where were her hiking shoes when she needed them?

Muttering a curse, she set her foot at the bottom and started up. Rocks tumbled beneath her steps, setting off mini avalanches. She slipped, held on, slipped again.

Dammit to hell.

Gritting her teeth, she continued up and at last made it to the top. For a moment she stood trembling, legs weak with relief.

And then she saw what was in front of her and smiled.

About time things went her way.

A panoramic view of road and the country beyond spread out before her, good as any map. In the distance she could make out the blurred outlines of the Eden's Gate stables.

Sure of the way back to the ranch, she scrambled down the other side. The faster she got to a phone, the faster she could get Finn out of there.

A loose rock slid out from under her, setting off a fall of more rock. Suddenly the whole area was moving. She slipped, stumbled-oh, my God-and fell.

Fear thudding in her ears, she plunged downward, helpless to stop her heart-dropping slide.

An eon later, she landed on her feet with a screech of pain.

Oh, God.

She looked down. Her right ankle was twisted beneath her.

Great. Just great.

Gingerly, she put weight on it, but pain bit clear up her leg. She felt around the bone and sucked in a breath when her fingers pressed too hard.

She closed her eyes. Of all the goddamn stupid...

How the hell was she going to make it back now?

Compressing her mouth into a thin line, she took a step, then another and another. Pain streaked up her leg, but she pressed on, sweat prickling her neck and underarms. Her limping gait slowed her progress to a crawl; twenty minutes later, she'd only gone a few dozen yards.

God. Why the hell Finn and the TCF would depend on her, she had no idea.

But depend on her they did, and she'd wasted precious minutes getting nowhere, time she couldn't afford with Finn trapped inside that wreck of a mine.

A sound drifted toward her. An engine. A car engine.

Shit.

Had Marian returned to check on her handiwork?

Panic sped through her. If Angelina could, she would've run back to the landslide to hide, but with her bum ankle she'd never make it.

Heart in her throat, she scanned her surroundings for another place to hide, but the car came into view before she found one.

She swallowed the scream that was about to burst out of her. It wasn't Marian, but a patrol Jeep. And the driver hadn't seen her yet.

Relief swamped her and on its heels came an idea, an idea so outrageous she wasn't sure it was sane. But she wasn't sure it wasn't brilliant either.

"Hey!" She shouted and waved her arms over her head to attract the attention of the man in the Jeep. "Over here!"

He saw her. Immediately the car veered in her direction. She bit her hp, her heart clattering in doubt. No turning back now.

"Miss Montgomery?" The driver jumped out and ran around to help her. He was a blunt-nosed youth dressed, like all Borian's men, in Eden's Gate camouflage.

"Yes. Oh, thank God. I don't think I could have made it back on my own." She extended her injured foot. "I did something awful to my ankle."

The young man made sympathetic noises and helped her limp into the Jeep. "Glad we found you," he said. 'That was a wicked storm last night. Mr. Borian and Miss Marian have been sick with worry."

I'll bet.
"Well, I'm glad to be found. But please, hurry. My foot really hurts. I think I may have broken it."

"I'll get you back in ten minutes. I'll just call ahead and let them know so they can contact a doctor."

"No!" Angelina quickly placed her hand over the radio he'd picked up. "If you don't mind, I'd rather wait until we get there." She gave him her most dazzling smile. "I'm a little embarrassed and don't want to make a fuss. To be honest"-she lowered her voice to a throaty murmur and leaned in close-"I don't want to give Victor time to think about it. He can get so angry." She looked deep into the young driver's eyes and he turned a gratifying shade of pink.

He cleared his throat and replaced the radio. "I... I understand." He started the engine.

She braced her injured foot over her opposite knee, cradling it in her hand to protect it from the Jeep's jostling momentum. Heart hammering, she closed her eyes. What the hell had she just done?

Found the quickest way back.

Quick but not exactly safe.

Safe was not a priority. Not with Finn hurt and stranded in that godforsaken place.

Suddenly the events of the morning flooded over her. She and Finn had almost died. Finn still could.

Oh, God.

Tremors raced through her, tremors she hoped the driver wouldn't notice.

Marian had drugged her. Marian had killed Mike and Jack. Marian had stolen the plutonium. Not Victor. Marian. Her aunt. Angelina couldn't downshift that fast.

Out of nowhere, a spicy whiff of fragrance floated into the air. Angelina opened her eyes, struck by the familiar scent.

"Do you smell anything?" she asked the driver.

He gave her a puzzled look, then turned his gaze back to the road. "I don't think so." He sniffed the air. "Nothing but woods and rock."

She waved the idea away. "Of course. I don't know what I was thinking." But she did, she'd been thinking about what Marian had done.

She killed you, Mother, didn't she ?

The whiff came again, as if Carol were nodding, urging her daughter on.

A chill rippled down Angelina's spine.

Marian had killed her sister. And that changed everything.

Angelina's heart sped up. Marian, not Victor. Marian.

The answer to the puzzle lit up inside her, neon and electric.

In a fury of impatience, she wished the driver would hurry, wished she could get there fast and finish this. Then her aunt would be someone else's problem and her mother would have the justice she deserved.

But the car bounced along at a steady, reliable hum.

After what seemed an eternity, the stables loomed in the distance. Her heart started to thud. Was Marian close by?

Angelina had figured out a way back to the ranch; now she'd have to sneak in without alarming her aunt. If she could get to Victor before Marian saw her, she might have a chance.