High Passion

CHAPTER 27

A bruised right shoulder and a slightly twisted ankle had joined the pounding in his head.

They’d been walking single file along the narrow boardwalk that made up the first part of the trail. Lana in the lead, Devon behind her, Vincent at the back of the line. When Lana slipped on the snow-slicked trail, Devon reacted, throwing himself backward into Vincent and knocking the other man to the ground. With his arms still lashed behind him, the only thing Devon accomplished was to temporarily separate the gun from Vincent’s hand. Long enough at least that when Lana rolled and popped to her feet, sprinting for the tree cover, Vincent had no way to take her down.

Vincent roared in frustration, kicking furiously and slamming his hands against Devon’s face. Vincent scrambled until he was free of Devon’s body weight, snatching up the gun and aiming down the hill, but Lana had vanished like a ghost.

Her tracks were there, though, a clear line leading away. Vincent followed them for a few paces, sinking to mid-shin in the deeper snow.

Devon thought furiously. While he didn’t trust Lana, she was basically his only hope at this moment. “Really? You’re going to leave me right out in the open to chase down some little girl who’s so scared of you she can’t talk without shaking?”

Vincent paused, glancing over his shoulder to where Devon lay sprawled in the snow.

It took some effort, but Devon hid the exertion it cost him, rolling and twisting and ending up on his feet in what had to look like a very impressive move, if Vincent’s widened eyes meant anything.

“Yeah, you go ahead and leave me here,” Devon taunted. “I’ll be so far into the bush before you make it back, your head will spin. Hell, I might even make it to the highway to get the police before you can find me.”

“You’re very cocky for someone about to become a cave fossil,” Vincent snarled. He glanced into the trees, but there were no further signs of Lana. “I’ll find her after—she won’t get far on foot.”

For once Devon was glad to have Vincent pull his typical chauvinistic crap and underestimate Lana. The woman was probably as proficient in the backcountry as Devon, and she didn’t have her hands tied. If she made the right decision and called someone, he might have a chance.

Now it was up to him to give her the time.

He paced forward as slowly as he dared, Vincent hard on his heels, that bloody gun pointed directly between Devon’s shoulder blades. “If you call this off and go back to the car on your own, you might get into hiding before the authorities come down on you,” Devon pointed out.

“No one is coming down on me.” Vincent laughed softly as they reached the end of the easy-access boardwalk and headed onto the more dedicated climber’s trail. “You’re making all sorts of assumptions, as if I’m not smart enough to get the girl’s phone before we went anywhere. No, I think things are going fine. If she gets lost and dies in the bush, well that adds to the mystery. Such a romantic twist—lover’s spat, or some nonsense.”

Vincent was breathing heavier, the increasing snow underfoot and the changing elevations taking their toll on his less fit body. Devon increased his pace, adding pressure to Vincent’s already taxed system.

The man was too young to drop dead of a heart attack, but he could hope.

The trail through the trees ended abruptly, opening into a wide meadow. Devon led them forward until they were in the clear, then stopped.

Vincent pushed him forward roughly. “Move.”

Devon shrugged. “You shoot me here and casual tourist sightseeing traffic will spot me from the air within the hour. You want to take me to the caves, you lead the fucking way.”

Vincent stomped around him, cautious to maintain a distance between them. He waited until he had the uphill advantage to face Devon. He swung his arm and backhanded Devon across the face, and Devon rocked on his feet. “You might want to consider Alisha and what I’ll do to her over the coming years. Cooperate now, and I promise to be more lenient.”

Devon licked at the split in his lips, the salty tang of blood on his tongue a strong warning. “The word of a man who plans to kill me. I don’t think I give a shit what you promise.”

Vincent stepped back and adjusted the backpack to lie across his chest. One-handed so he could keep the gun in position, he reached in and pulled out a rope. It took him a while, but Devon had to admit the man wasn’t an idiot. He vanished behind Devon again and before Devon could turn, Vincent jerked his toque over his eyes, then retreated out of harm’s way.

The next thing Devon felt was a noose around his neck, the slipknot tightening. He tucked his chin to his shoulder in an attempt to protect his airway, but it was too late. Vincent slammed him between the shoulders again, and, unable to see, Devon stumbled to catch his balance, elbows jerking wide, the restraints on his wrists holding solid. The slight gap he’d maintained in the noose slipped away as the cord settled tight to his skin, and Devon’s hopes fell.

Vincent had him collared like a damn dog.

His toque was pulled off along with a few strands of hair, pain jolting his already aching head. Vincent stood to one side of him, emotionless.

“Walk. Take me to the caves or I’ll tie you to a tree right here and pull the fucking rope until you’re blue in the face,” Vincent warned.

“Gee, I’d think you didn’t like me or something.” Devon turned and broke trail through the pristine snow. He deliberately walked farther into the meadow than needed to leave a visible trail from the air. Heading to the caves was the only logical choice. He had to keep trying to buy more time. Every moment was one more opportunity for Vincent to fuck up.

Moving was better than simply allowing the man to choke him to death before he even got to use the knife burning a hole in his back pocket.

Devon shook his shoulders and tightened his neck muscles as he walked, thankful that when he relaxed there was a tiny bit more play in the circle. He could draw a full breath again.

He glanced back as he stepped up and over a larger rock. Vincent strode behind him, the rope between them hanging slightly, but Vincent’s fingers were firmly wrapped around the excess length. The gun had vanished.

Choosing which direction to lead Vincent was simple. Devon had been in the Takkakaw caves more times than he could count—it was a favourite training ground for the SAR school. The number of hours he and Alisha had spent wandering in the dark with only their headlamps to guide them had diminished over the past two years while on Lifeline, but there were some things that were etched into his memories. Like the massive free-fall off the trail shortly inside the upper entrance. No way in hell was he leading Vincent anywhere near that. At the lower entrance he had a chance—there was nowhere good to hide a body for at least a few minutes’ walking, not to mention the river and the falls to deal with. Somewhere in the growing darkness Devon would make his move.

He clung to that hope as they marched silently over the meadow, the broad face of the rock wall appearing ahead of them. The falls themselves boomed louder as they approached, the constant descent of water crashing into rocks filling his ears, a mist in the air growing as ice sparkled on the limbs of nearby trees.

They had to descend the final section. Devon was challenged to remain on his feet as he manoeuvred over snow-covered boulders, the mountain walls rising around them as they entered a natural amphitheater where the water foamed up, clouds of vapour and freezing water spray painting the rock shimmering white.

“Why are we going down?” Vincent asked, suspicion thick in his voice.

Devon snapped. “You wanted the cave, you’ve got the bloody cave. Look for yourself, asshole.”

The rope jerked and Devon choked, bending at the waist and shaking frantically to find air.

Vincent spoke softly. “Don’t push me anymore.”

A thin thread of air returned as the noose loosened, and Devon dragged in a breath. He staggered for a pace, then straightened and took another step down toward where they’d have to wade through the river to access the cavern opening.

Runoff was far slower now than in the spring or summer, but the glacier melt never really stopped, the constant moisture of the falls forming into a sparkling cascade of ice in the dead of winter. Devon stepped reluctantly into the shallows, the pounding splash of the cataract covering all other noises. Icy-cold spray coated them both as they edged closer to the mountain, the falls forming a curtain to their right. Rock and water filled the sky as Devon waded forward, thigh deep in the current as the underground stream they were about to follow joined the torrent from above.

He paused as they reached the actual entrance, the warmer air from inside the opening rushing past them bringing the scents of mold and earth along with it. A moment later a light clicked on as Vincent shone the beam into the cave. Devon struggled forward, climbing out of the water onto a relatively dry path with difficulty, his tied hands pulling him off balance.

Now that they were inside, the volume of the crashing falls faded, warping into strange echoes and haunting cries.

“Which way do we go?” Vincent asked. “Never mind. I see it.” He dodged around Devon, the coil of rope in his hands. “This is how this works. You stand here and wait for me. When I get where I want to go I’ll call. If you choose to obey me, I’ll lead you in safely. If not, I’ll jerk you off your feet and push you into the water.”

“Why not push me in now?” Devon would welcome it. None of the pools in this area were deep, but there were holes along the cavern wall he could hide in, and tall stalagmites he could wrap the neck rope around to give himself time to use the knife to get free.

Now that they’d reached the caves, his opportunities were better than in the open—as long as Vincent didn’t shoot him. That option he simply didn’t have a solution for.

Vincent stepped away another pace. “Lana mentioned a place where I could leave you. You’ll never get out, not without gear, but it seems more like something she’d do, doesn’t it? If we’re going with the lovers’ spat. Alisha will be heartbroken when they finally find your body next spring. I’ll be sure to offer lots of sympathy.”

Devon fought the urge to spit on the man. Vincent really thought he had Lana so cowed she wouldn’t call for help when she got free?

Any mistakes Vincent made now only helped Devon. He stood silently as Vincent backed away, then turned to use the headlamp to guide himself along the narrow path at the edge of the water, the noose rope slowly falling from his hands as he moved away.

As soon as darkness closed around him, Devon had his fingers in his back pocket, the switchblade out and pressed to the ropes entangling his wrists. He cut quickly, forcing his breathing to remain calm, watching the light Vincent carried bob into the distance.

He wasn’t nearly through the fibers when Vincent called for him to move. The man shone the light toward him, the muted glow illuminating an eerie world of shadows and glistening water, ribbons of tiny streams shimmering as they trickled down the ancient cavern walls.

“Moving. Just give me time.”

He kept working the blade, the occasional misdirection cutting his fingers, sliding too near to his wrists, but he couldn’t afford to be cautious. Every step took him closer to Vincent, and if he discovered what Devon was doing, the knife would be gone.

Devon’s chances might be gone as well.

Pressure eased slightly on every tug, but the ropes were still too tight to fall away.

A familiar sound reached his ears, echoing through the higher tunnels toward them, and Devon grinned in spite of the hellish situation. Somewhere outside the cave a helicopter was landing.

“What’s that?” Vincent snapped.

“Bats,” Devon lied.

Vincent paused, then swore violently. “That little bitch.”

Devon wasn’t sure if Vincent meant Lana or Alisha, and he didn’t care. The ropes were nearly off. He stepped quicker now, hoping to catch Vincent distracted. Only the light vanished and he had to jerk to a stop before he slipped off the path or tripped over something.

The final thread snapped free, and Devon twisted his hands loose, blood rushing into his numb fingers. He bit the inside of his cheek to stop from making any noise as his eyes attempted to adjust to the even more limited lighting.

Ahead of him Vincent had fallen to his knees, frantically digging into the backpack. The flashlight in his hands focused in a narrow beam as he searched for something.

It was his only chance. Devon jerked the noose free from his neck. He tossed the rope ahead of him on the path, then stepped as close to the cavern wall as he could, crouching behind a rock and hiding.

Vincent rose, the round circle of light in his hand blinding Devon as he endeavored to tuck himself farther out of sight.

“You bastard, where did you go?” Vincent tugged the neck rope sharply, and the free end flew through the air. “How the hell . . . ?”

Vincent flicked the light from side to side as he searched.

Even though he’d broken free, his hiding place wasn’t perfect. In fact, Devon was a bit of a sitting duck. How much had Lana told Vincent about the cave system, and could he use Vincent’s ignorance against him? It was a long shot, but Devon had to take it.

“If you start running,” Devon called, “you might get out of the cave through the upper exit. If you go now.”

For all his polish Vincent had a fairly extensive vocabulary. When the curses stopped, Vincent moved toward him. “This is your fault, you know. Alisha was far more malleable before she got involved with you.”

“Bullshit. Alisha’s the strongest, most opinionated person I know. You misjudged her.”

Vincent took another step closer. The beam of light widened with every pace. “You’re as ignorant as the rest of them.”

Devon stilled his breathing and braced himself, readying to leap at Vincent if he came any farther in his direction.

The entrance to the cave glowed in the distance, the broken outline of a semicircle highlighted with the light of the wintery sky. A body stepped into view, framed by the darkness and light.

Rescuers had arrived. For the first time in ages, Devon took a deep breath and allowed himself to hope.

Vincent cursed again, then turned, the glow of his flashlight vanishing. Devon remained motionless, listening hard, forcing himself to ignore the person hesitating at the entranceway and to focus on tracking Vincent.

The other man wasn’t moving.

From the mouth of the cavern a bright light flashed, streaming into the darkness like a shooting star. Brilliant red reflected off myriads of water rivulets, veins of quartz sparkling with blood-toned diamonds as the light blasted past. Another emergency flare followed it, and another, and Devon glanced over the rock to discover Vincent only feet away.

Devon leapt without thinking, pushing against the firm stone flooring and flying through the air. He slammed into Vincent and took him to the ground, a gasp of pain escaping the other man.

They rolled, Devon clutching to grasp Vincent’s hands. A blow hit him in the face and another in the solar plexus. He got in a few good punches of his own, Vincent grunting as the blows landed. Around them the darkness made his eyes ache as he scrambled to subdue his target.

An ear-shattering explosion rang out as pain sliced through Devon’s leg. It felt as if a raging hot knife had stabbed into his calf, but he tightened his grip on Vincent, keeping hold of him in spite of the pain.

Vincent had shot him.

Alisha was going to kill him for being stupid enough to get shot.

Something hard brushed the back of his hands, and Devon jabbed the gun away, clinging to Vincent for all he was worth. Vincent got in another lucky blow and the ringing in Devon’s head got worse. The stars in front of his eyes grew brighter.

The world moved into slow motion, a blend of agony and coloured lights. Devon was seriously pissed off as for the second time that day darkness overwhelmed him.