Claimed (The Flash Gold Chronicles, #4) by Lindsay Buroker Page B

heard the creak of hinges or the grinding of stone moving, but the trap might have reset itself somehow. “You did promise to rescue me if I needed it.”
    “Something that would have been easier if I hadn’t fallen into the trap along with you.” Kali sighed again. “Fooled by a ten-year-old and a cave. I’m definitely not having a bright day.”
    He was still holding her upright, so he gave her a pat on the shoulder. He decided not to admit that he had gotten himself into situations this dumb numerous times in the past. His athleticism usually saved him, along with a refusal to give up. “Let’s see how deep this pit is. Why don’t I give you a boost up, and you see if you can reach the top. I didn’t hear the trap reset, and it seems I can still feel a draft against my cheek.”
    “It would take some fancy engineering to make a self-closing trapdoor, especially with something that heavy. Did your rope fall down here with you?”
    “Yes. Did your tools?”
    “They’re out by the SAB,” Kali admitted. “I wasn’t certain of my ability to scale that cliff with extra weight swaying around on my back.”
    “They can’t all be out there. Something’s jabbing me in the ribs. And in the arm. And... if I weren’t reasonably positive you were a woman, I would be concerned about that hard shaft sticking into my thigh.”
    Kali stepped back, but not without slugging him in the stomach. He deserved that, he reckoned.
    “That’s a wrench. I always have the basics. I’m ready for that boost.”
    Cedar probed the ground with his foot, making his way to a wall. Slowly, very slowly. Soft rasps and the shifting of rocks—or maybe bones—promised the snakes were still in the area. Several scurried away as he and Kali moved. The kerosene was keeping them back, but they weren’t fleeing. He didn’t think rattlesnakes ate humans, but he could be wrong.
    When he reached the wall, he interlaced his fingers so Kali could step on them. “Here.”
    She climbed up, using the wall and his shoulders—and once a finger in the eye—for handholds. Soon her boots rested on his shoulders. Soft pats sounded as she investigated the darkness above them.
    “I can’t reach anything except more wall,” Kali said.
    A soft tink came from above, then something clacked to the ground a few feet away. An angry rattle shook the silence.
    “You’re irking the wildlife,” Cedar said.
    “Fortunately, I’m up on a sturdy platform and well away from the wildlife.” Kali tossed something else. This time, whatever it was clacked higher up and didn’t fall back to the floor. “The trapdoor—I guess you’d call it a trap floor —is open, but it’s another ten feet above my head. No wonder falling hurt.”
    Cedar grumbled to himself. The hours he had estimated that it would take someone to get to town, warn Cudgel, and return with a team of armed men no longer seemed such a huge amount of time. If he and Kali couldn’t figure out a way to escape before then, they would be easy targets to anyone standing up there with a gun. Of course, they might not have hours, anyway. Once the kerosene dried, it wouldn’t be nearly the deterrent for the snakes. He didn’t like the odds of keeping so many away with his sword, a sword he wasn’t even sure had fallen into the pit with him.
    “You’ve got a rope,” Kali said. “What about a grappling hook?”
    “No. Also, I don’t know that there’s anything up there except that rubble wall that one could latch onto, and it would be difficult to lodge a hook between rocks from this angle. And from twenty-five feet down.”
    “I have confidence that you can do it.” Kali shifted her weight. “Let me down. I’ll see if I can make you a hook.”
    “Out of what? Are you planning to sacrifice your tools to provide the metal?”
    “Don’t be ridiculous. I’m sure there are some knives or belt buckles or other materials down here that I can use.”
    Cedar helped Kali off his shoulders, keeping