Page 53 of You Only Love Twice
Gemma jerked her head toward the back door.Let's get out of here.
She knew bad odds when she saw them.
He grabbed her wrist as she slipped toward the door and shook his head. Tugging her toward the pantry, he knelt and eased a trapdoor in the floor open, gesturing her into the darkness within.
Taking his hand, she let him drop her down into a narrow passage. Then he followed, landing right beside her, and reached up to tug the trapdoor closed.
Any hint of light vanished.
"This way." He breathed the words in her ear, then captured her hand and tugged her forward. "They'll be watching the house. This leads into the storm water drains."
Of course. During the Echelon's peak, it had been common for blue bloods to attempt to elevate their position within their house via a stealthy assassination—or ten. Every manor had a handful of exits, just in case.
"I can't see a damned thing," she whispered, staggering after him.
She'd often trained with a blindfold. Being blind wasn't a problem; being forced to rely uponhimwas. Because she didn't trust him. How could she?
"Follow me."
Then they were feeling their way down a flight of damp stone steps, the air growing colder and moss slicking the tunnel walls beneath her outstretched fingers.
Water splashed ahead of them. The tunnel led down into the sewers, and Gemma wrinkled her nose. Wet. Damn it. She'd just gotten jolly well clean. No help for it. She was forced to wade into the frigid waters, the invading chill seeping into her boots.
"Where are we going? Who was it? What's—"
"Be quiet, and keep moving," he hissed, planting a hand firmly in the middle of her back. "Unless you want your throat slit."
On and on, through dark tunnels. Wading through ever deepening water. A glance over her shoulder revealed a faint phosphorescent light bobbing along behind them. "They're following us."
Obsidian froze. Light streamed into the sewer ahead of them through some grate, highlighting his stark, expressionless face. "Damn it. They're not following us. They're following me."
Reaching up with the knife, he felt under the back of his hairline, and then made a sharp jerking motion with the blade. Blood flavored the air, and when he withdrew his hand, his fingers were slick with it.
"What are you doing?" She caught a glimpse of a tiny silver disc in his hand, faint silvery legs spreading away from its body like a spider's legs.
Obsidian turned and threw the tiny device down the other tunnel. "Move, Gemma."
A tracking device. She slammed a hand to his chest when he moved to push past her, spat on her fingers, and then reached up to smear her saliva across the small wound. "They'll be able to scent the blood. My saliva will help the cut heal."
He nodded.
She splashed through the tunnels ahead of him, chasing the rippling blue light. They came to an intersection, the sluggish water starting to move faster past her boots. "Which way?"
He glanced toward the rushing sound down the tunnel to their right. "This way."
Behind them, a shout echoed.
Had their assailants discovered the tracking beacon?
There was a sharp drop ahead of them, water rushing toward it. Gemma skidded to a halt on the edge of it. "What are we going to do now?"
"Do you trust me?"
The jury was still undecided. "Perhaps."
He grabbed her arm and looked over the lip of the spillway.
"No. Absolutely not." The darkened waters gleamed far below them, water draining rapidly toward some hidden grate. London was full of underground rivers, and this section of London was frequently flooded when the ELU Underground Railway Project collapsed. The government had installed a steam-driven drainage plant to maintain the water levels.
