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The floorboards moved a second time. Frowning, she stopped. Apprehension crawled up her spine, but she thrust it away. Michael had walked across this same floor only a few moments ago. If they had held his weight, surely they'd hold hers.
"He's mutilated her?” she said, praying it wasn't so.
"No."
She took another step. “Then how did she die?"
The floor buckled. Wood groaned, as if ready to collapse. Imagination, she told herself fiercely, and took another step.
The floor bowed again, this time accompanied by an odd cracking sound. Sweat broke out across her brow. She cleared her throat. “Michael, I think something's wrong here."
"What?” His voice was sharp, alert.
"The floor.” She frowned and took another small step. The boards seemed to bow even further.
"It's an old building,” he reminded her gently. “Who knows what condition the supporting pylons are in." A plausible enough explanation, but not the answer here. She had the horrible feeling the whole lot was about to disappear beneath her. “It's more than that."
"Don't move, then. I'm coming back."
She swung the flashlight round in a tight circle. There was nothing to see but years of dust, stirred to sluggish life in the wake of Michael's passing. She bit her lip and took one more step. It was one step too many.
Without warning, everything gave way, and she dropped like a stone into darkness.
Chapter Five
Her scream became a grunt when she hit something solid. She gripped the old crossbeam that had stopped her fall, and hoped like hell it would hold. Far below she could hear the cry of the ocean, a siren's song that promised death.
She couldn't swim. Could barely even dog paddle.
There was another crack, then everything around her began to fall again, heading for the deeper pit of darkness opening near her feet
She let go of the flashlight and dove forward, reaching for something, anything, to stop her slide into oblivion. Her hands scraped against wood; she grabbed at it wildly. It shifted under the force of her weight, slipping several feet forward. For one heart-stopping moment, she hung motionless above the black pit, barely daring to breathe.
The wood cracked. She swung forward, desperate to find a more secure hold. Jagged splinters tore at her hands and offered no hope.
"Michael!” Her hands slipped further down the old piece of timber. It cracked again, dropping her several inches closer to the pit and death.
"Nikki!"
She glanced up. He leaned over the pit, reaching for her. She shifted her grip on the timber then lunged for his outstretched fingers. His hand caught hers as more flooring shifted and dropped away.
"Your other arm,” he ordered, voice hoarse.
She released the timber and swung towards him. He caught her other hand, his grip like iron as she swung wildly around. The sound of the ocean far below grew stronger. Inch by precious inch, Michael moved backwards, pulling her with him. As her feet came over the edge of the hole, he stood and dragged her upright. The night whirled briefly, and she closed her eyes, willing the sensation away.
He placed his hand under her elbow and guided her to safety. Dark laughter flickered through her mind. She shivered. Jasper's trap might have failed, but he wasn't finished with her yet. Lord, she felt so cold—not externally. Internally, deep inside her heart and soul. Michael stopped, forcing her to do the same.
"Are you all right?” He raised her hand, gently running his fingers over hers. She flinched when he touched several splinters. “Battered and shaking, but otherwise in one piece.” Her voice shook slightly, and she took a deep breath, trying to calm the desperate racing of her heart.
"Thank you,” she added softly. “That's the second time you've saved my life." "One more time, and you're mine."
The odd seriousness behind the light remark made her uneasy. She wished she could see his eyes. Wished she could see his thoughts and know what he meant.
"You're bleeding,” he said, lightly touching her middle finger. She frowned. While she had no doubt that she was, how could he tell in the darkness?
"You should go back to the car and tend to these straight away,” he continued softly, “or you might risk infection."
"A couple more minutes won't matter. Can you pull the splinters out?"
