Dead Sexy Dragon(10)

Cora stood in front of the forbidden door. There could be something down there, something hurt and in need of help. Curiosity triumphed over sense and Cora twisted the handle. The unlocked door creaked ominously as she drew it open and stepped through the doorway. Steps led down into darkness. She cautiously felt the wall on either side of the staircase but detected no light switch.

She retreated from the darkness into the safety of the kitchen and located a flashlight in one of the drawers. She flicked it on and carefully descended the stairs. Moist, pungent air engulfed her. She listened intently for any noises but heard only the faint drip of water. A plumbing leak?

The light beam bounced side to side. She expected to see a basement of some kind, four walls and shelves, but there was nothing. As far as she could tell, there was only the stairwell leading down to a cement floor.

Her internal alarm clanged loudly. This wasn’t right. As she reached the bottom of the stairs, her worst fears were realized. The staircase dead-ended at a large metal door with a keypad.

Cora’s blood went cold. This wasn’t a basement. This was a holding cell.

As if the fires of hell nipped at her heels, she rushed up the steps. Panting and shaking, Cora slammed the basement door. She dropped the flashlight back in the drawer and ran back into the living room where she promptly flopped down on the sofa and tried to reconcile what she’d seen.

What was Stig keeping down in that basement? Was it something illegal? He obviously didn’t want anyone to know about it. Oh God! What if he found out she’d been down there?

“Calm down.” Cora spoke sternly to calm her nerves. Stig was a standup guy. He’d been a marine, for crying out loud. Surely there was some other explanation for what she’d uncovered. It was likely to be simple and not in the least bit sinister.

Of course, she couldn’t ask him because he’d pretty much forbidden her to go down there. What was that saying about curiosity and cats?

Her gaze fell on the limestone mantel. There were pictures of Stig with similarly burly men she’d never met. Framed photos of Stig and Hector and other marines took center stage. They’d been taken on various deployments and during their downtime stateside. In most of them, Hector and Stig were side by side, arms slung over one another’s shoulders as they grinned.

The sight calmed her. Whatever was going on down in that basement, in that holding cell, she had to trust him. Hector had trusted him implicitly. She had to believe her brother’s judgment of Stig’s character was true. Those men had fought in the fiercest of battles and had depended upon one another for their very lives. Surely Hector would have seen Stig’s malicious side if he had one. And yet, she still had to know what was going on.

Cora took a steadying breath and made her decision. Tonight she’d ask Stig about the basement.





Chapter Three



Stig gathered the last pile of sawdust with his broom, scooped it up, and deposited it into the large can in the corner. He made a quick sweep of his shop, ensuring everything was in its place, and switched off the lights. He yanked on the nylon cord attached to the overhang door and brought it firmly down into place. During the day the open garage-style door allowed the swift breezes to cool the otherwise-sweltering shop.

He left out the side door, locking it behind him, and headed toward his house. The scent of freshly baked bread greeted him, reminding Stig he hadn’t eaten since that amazing breakfast Cora had prepared for him. He’d been so preoccupied with his thoughts that lunch had skipped his mind. Helping Cora out of the shitstorm she’d created and figuring out how to live through the next week with her in the house had proven more important.

“Cora?” Stig expected to find her in the kitchen but she was nowhere to be seen. He’d come through the living room and had seen her laptop and cell phone but not her. Maybe she was upstairs.

Stig washed his hands and cut a slice off one of the loaves of honey wheat bread resting on the counter. On the way to the fridge for butter, he peeked into the oven and discovered a bubbling pan of lasagna. She’d raided his garden for fresh veggies to make the salad sitting on the top shelf in the fridge. Dinner was going to be quite the feast.

After gulping down the butter-slathered bread, Stig started upstairs. He needed a shower, a change of clothes, and a plausible lie to explain why he’d be unavailable to entertain her this evening. That was bound to be difficult. Cora was the curious type. She’d start asking questions, and what the hell was he going to tell her?

Stig darted into his room and grabbed clean clothes. Having one bathroom and a guest in the house proved more inconvenient than he’d imagined when building his home. He should have sacrificed the extra space in the bedrooms for that second small bathroom.