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Anger sparked through her veins, chasing away the melancholy. “I’m not playing any game,” she fired back. “Don’t feel obligated to stay.”
His eyes flashed, but his tone remained icy calm. “That’s brave talk, now that we’ve found Lucas.”
“Youdidn’t find him. Eli did.”
They held each other’s gaze, tension coiling between them. Hartley’s pulse raced, alive with adrenaline.
Monty’s mouth quirked in a humorless smile. “I stand corrected,” he noted, his gaze hard. After a moment, he added. “I’ll stay until all the properties are cleared.”
Her gut unclenched, and she looked away before he saw her relief. She had gotten what she wanted: more time. But for what? A second final goodbye fuck?No. Her mind immediately rejected that. This need to be with him had nothing to do with sex.
“Base, Red Team will finish searching the Castle basement, then move on to Schuster House as planned,” he reported, his jaw clenched. “We’ll report back when it’s clear.”
“Copy that, Red Team,” Claire responded, her professional voice back in place. “Let’s get this done, everyone. Over and out.”
Hartley rose, squaring her shoulders. A few more hours with Monty, fighting or not, was all she was going to get. She would lock this memory away to call on when he was gone.
It would have to be enough.
CHAPTER23
Montgomery led the way down the stairs, around a corner, and then to the stone structure that marked the entrance to the underground area of the Castle. A wooden door with black hardware appeared ancient until closer inspection showed modern hinges.
He couldn’t think of what lay below as a basement. That word felt too modern, given the ancient ambiance the architect had captured. He pulled the heavy door open, its hinges protesting the movement. “When was the last time anyone went down here?” he asked, peering into the gloom.
“Definitely before our time,” Hartley said, so close he could feel her words against his shoulder.
He frowned. “Is it just a storage area?” He took one step into the yawning abyss of blackness. The stone stairs seemed to lead straight down, only the top four visible before disappearing into the dark.
“I could lie and say yes, but I’m pretty sure I saw one floor plan that included a dungeon and torture chamber,” she said grimly.
He peered at the worn stone steps, then found a decades-old light switch fastened to the inside of the door frame. He flipped it once, twice, and a third time. Nothing.
“Well, that’s not eerie at all, is it?” she asked, and he felt her inch closer to his back.
A chill settled over him that had nothing to do with the frigid air. Things like dark rooms didn’t bother him, but in their medieval surroundings, he suddenly felt like a knight protecting his maiden.
He looked back at her, taking in the tense expression on her face. “You can stay up here,” he suggested, but she was already shaking her head.
“No fucking way. I don’t know why, but thinking about Lucas’s body being on the property, just waiting for somebody to find it… It’s freaking me out a bit,” she said. Her face softened in chagrin, kicking his heartbeat up a notch. “As annoying as you are, I’d rather be with you.”
“Let’s get this over with, then. Stay close,” he advised.
“Oh, no problem,” she said, pressing against him so quickly he had to grab the rough handrail.
He glanced back with a frown. “I don’t think piggybacking you down the stairs is smart.”
She lifted her chin. “Sorry.”
Jaw tightening, he started downward, sweeping his flashlight beam ahead. The circle of light did little to pierce the darkness, instead seeming to reflect every particle of moisture and dust in the air. Their footsteps echoed off the clammy stone walls as they descended, the narrow staircase forcing them to walk single file. The farther they went, the colder and more silent it became, as if the dark devoured any trace of them.
They reached the bottom and Monty paused, his senses straining to pick up any sound or smell. A rodent’s claws skittering against stone echoed distantly from the unseen recess, giving him the impression that the underground area stretched ahead in a very long but narrow passage. He continued to listen for movement, but only stillness filled the expanse. Wordlessly, he moved forward, light glinting off lichen-covered walls. Hartley had gripped the bottom edge of his coat, once stepping on his heel and muttering, “Sorry,” in the dead space around them.
Monty peered ahead, eyes narrowed against the gloom. His light reflected off something metallic in the distance. When they drew closer, he found manacles hanging from the crumbling mortar, more realistic than he liked. Several paces past that, his flashlight picked out what looked like an upright metal coffin. The cover was split down the middle with one half open, spikes on the inside of the door.
“An iron maiden,” he told Hartley, and she gasped.
“That looks too, too, too authentic,” she whispered, tugging on his coat when he moved closer to it. “What are you doing?” she asked frantically.
