Buried Flames (21 page)

Brenna couldn’t answer why she hadn’t reacted upon having a stranger pull a weapon on her. Had she somehow known that nothing bad would happen with Mason there or had she been so damned scared that she just froze? Since when had she allowed someone else to handle her problems? Had things changed that much?

Brenna had showered first, thankful when Prue had taken Sam over to the lodge for some food. It also allowed Mason to get caught up with his friends. She took a lot longer than she should have as she tried to accept that they were now safe and well supplied. Well, sort of. They were as safe as they could be with the world ending outside this mountain pass, surrounded by people who Mason trusted. He’d told her all about them. And the hot water? Pure bliss.

This entire area was sheer perfection to Brenna. The fishing lodge consisted of a central building with golden lights shining from the windows and making it appear like a brilliant beacon in the depth of hell. She hadn’t gotten a chance to go inside just yet, nor could she see inside the ten rustic cabins she’d glimpsed from the road, positioned in a semi-circle around the main building. Instead, Mason’s friends had guided them along a road swinging through the camp and leading them to an old silver mine that had been converted into a massive bunker, and she hadn’t even gotten to see the surrounding area because of the descending ash and the time of day. Nor had she gotten to see much of the bunker with its multiple levels and many diverse rooms.

“I made a conscious decision to bring you here, Brenna,” Mason explained somewhat wearily, turning back to the task at hand.

Brenna hadn’t had a lot to unpack and the change of clothes she did have needed washing anyway. She sat on the queen-sized bed and looked around, taking in the ten by fifteen foot oak floored room that contained two built-in wall lockers that occupied an entire wall, a small table with two wooden folding chairs, and a partitioned area with a sink, a toilet, and a shower. It was simplistic and yet she was more grateful for this than she had been her ranch. And she did love her ranch. She missed her home, but this small place meant the difference between life and death.

Brenna admitted to feeling somewhat lost. She wasn’t sure what she should do now and she didn’t like experiencing the doubt that was creeping in. Mason then said something that took her by surprise.

“That makes you my responsibility.”

“It didn’t before.” Brenna didn’t mean to call Mason out on their previous conversations, but she was getting past the point of caring if she hurt his feelings when it came to keeping her at arm’s length. “You were more than willing to drop me off at the lodge and then go about your business as if I were a mere wayward acquaintance who you picked up along the way.”

“Things have changed.” Mason slammed the double locker doors shut, resting his hand on the beige metal lip that framed each of them as if he were carefully considering what he was about to say. “But you’re right. We’re all in danger, even inside these mountain walls, and I’d feel better if you stayed with me. Can you just accept that for what it is for now?”

Brenna couldn’t fathom what kind of danger the team could be in considering the security around this place. She wasn’t sure the number of occupants, but there were definitely enough people to take a stand against a full squad of Special Forces personnel. The mine even had a vault styled door that was several feet of high strength steel alloy with a cypher-lock keypad, according to Owen. She liked him, along with his friend, Prue Whitaker. Brenna had thought those two were together, and their brief kiss when they thought no one was looking confirmed her suspicions.

“Yes, I can accept your answer,” Brenna replied, lifting up her holstered weapon and holding it in her lap. She looked down at it and realized that she’d never thought to pull the trigger, even while believing she was going to die. That didn’t set right with her, because that wasn’t who she was. What had happened out there? “For now.”

Mason finally turned and appeared to want to say something more, but the tic on the side of his jaw told her he wouldn’t follow through. One of these days, he’d talk to her without reconsidering every word. Until then, she would bide her time. She hadn’t lied back when they were in Nebraska. He’d always been her
one
. It would have only been a matter of time before she sought him out. Now? She had nothing but time to rebuild what they’d once lost.

Mason had finally shaved and Brenna found herself wishing he’d kept a little bit of that dark stubble she’d come to love. He surprised her when he strolled over to where she was sitting and held out his large hand. She stared at it and took to heart that it was one step forward.

“Come with me.” Mason helped her stand, staring at her a little longer than he usually did. Brenna wondered what he was thinking, but he then just as quickly gestured for her to secure the holster to her belt. He didn’t want to open up at all to her, did he? Telling her stories that any one of his friends could relate to didn’t cut it. She wanted to know
him
—the unabridged story. “I’ll show you the bunker and then we can make our way to the lodge for a meal…and I’m talking real food.”

Brenna’s stomach gave a low growl of agreement and she quickly attached the black-leathered holster to her belt. She followed him to the door and peered around him into the foyer all the team members shared. They exited the wooden building constructed inside a cavern chipped out of solid rock to accommodate its large size.

This chamber escaped into a long hallway with multiple passages leading off to other caverns with more wooden buildings. The corridors had large ten-foot square metal doors that sealed off the chambers from the other areas. Each zone seemed to be positively pressurized and the huge doors always wheezed as the air equalized when a hatch was opened.

This place was more like a maze than anything and she couldn’t help but run her hand down the rough-hewn limestone walls. The floors were smooth with poured cement on this level. It astounded her that something this large could have been turned into a bunker. The cost must have been extraordinary. What had Prue called it? A mini-city inside a mountain.

“It’ll be easier to start at the front,” Mason said, leading her down the corridor and past several caverns with wooden buildings constructed inside of them very similar to theirs.

There wasn’t anyone around and Mason didn’t stop until they reached the entrance to the well-lit cavern they’d originally entered through. All of their masks were positioned by the exit in labeled cubbies. There were over a hundred two-foot square holders that had once been used by the miners.

Apparently, those miners had once used this area to prepare for the harsh conditions farther down in the mine where they used to extract the silver ore. Today, only about half of the cubbies were being used, but they were being utilized for much of the same reason. It reminded them of what was really outside these walls. Mason turned with the entrance to his back and pointed down the corridor they’d just come from.

“There’s a freight elevator straight ahead. Past that on the right is the tunnel we just came from. It’s where the entire team has their billeting. The passageway off this chamber to the left is where the main generators are located, along with Tank’s workshop.”

“I have yet to meet this infamous tank commander you keep talking about.” Brenna liked that they were discussing something other than the huge pink elephant in the room. A part of her felt the need to check on Ace, but then she’d have to come face to face with Truman. She wasn’t ready for that. “Do you think Tank’s here or at the main lodge?”

“Tank is definitely here somewhere, although that doesn’t mean he doesn’t visit the lodge. After all, that’s where Mabel is. She’s in charge of the food preparation and service during specific hours. Only certain items are available to eat or drink outside of the designated chow hours.” Mason walked them past the freight elevator to where multiple tunnels awaited them. He pointed to the left of where they’d just come from. “There’s another security area down that way as well, housing video surveillance for the entire facility, inside the mountain and out.”

“And the medical area?” Brenna thought Prue had said it was down the corridor Mason was talking about, which meant Truman was here inside the bunker right now. So much for feeling safer inside this secured shelter than at the lodge. Truman seemed to have access to this entire place. “Is that down this way as well?”

“Yes.” Mason turned around and gestured to the freight elevator. “That lift is large enough to fit those golf carts that have equipment racks positioned on the back to transport heavy items to each level as needed.”

“And down there?” Brenna asked, pointing to numerous tunnels off to the right. “What else does all that lead to?”

“Well, there’s the mechanical room, stairs leading to a lower level that contain the brig, security billeting, and an armory. We’ll stop in there later tonight and outfit you with a handgun more compatible to the size of your hand.”

Brenna was going to bring up the fact that she hadn’t protected herself the way she should have earlier, but instead she turned back around and pointed back to the barn. She needed something normal, something to get her mind off of her confusion. Major and Sergeant were happily free of their makeshift harnesses as they settled into their new surroundings—a good-sized corral beside a barn equipped to take care of a greater number of farm animals.

“Who took care of Sergeant and Major?” Brenna walked closer to the large corral, amazed by the work put into the construction of the enclosure. The wood almost looked petrified with its smooth, hand-tooled surface. She realized upon running a hand over the top of the grain of lumber that she’d seen something similar recently. She peered up at Mason, who was reaching for their gasmasks. “You made this. Was this corral your contribution to the bunker?”

“Contribution? All of my boys worked on this place from top to bottom, putting hard work into something they thought was a foolish old man’s delusion—not that they told me that, but it was in their eyes the whole time.”

Brenna turned to find an older man, she guessed in his sixties, with bluer eyes than she. They sparkled with mischief and yet he carried himself in a way that commanded respect. His weathered wrinkles added character where she was sure none was needed and his smile underneath his bushy grey mustache was infectious.

“Mason is our loner, so you’ll have to excuse any stares or even wry comments from the others,” Tank said, holding out a large hand that was rough with callouses. He pulled his own weight and it showed. Brenna was already smiling by the time he shook her hand. “They mean no harm and they’re all good people. You can take my word on that.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Mr. Yates,” Brenna said, unsure if she should call him by the nickname the others call him. They’d earned that right. “I’ve heard so many things about you.”

“Oh, I can just imagine,” Tank replied with a laugh. Brenna hadn’t meant it that way, but his wink clued her in that he was just messing with her. Her smile widened. “You can call me Tank. Mason, my boy, it’s good to see you.”

Brenna didn’t consider herself an overly emotional woman, but the gruffness in Tank’s voice told of his love for Mason and her throat closed in response. No wonder he was willing to risk his life to get here. This
was
his family. Was she now included? Or did Mason still consider her an outsider here in his home?

“M
ason, he misunderstood
the situation,” Mav said, trying to smooth over the aversion Mason currently felt for Kellen Truman. “You would have done the same in that situation had the roles been reversed. In fact, you’d have shot him the moment he’d rode up with one our bodies leaning over a pack horse.”

“There is no misunderstanding,” Mason corrected, reaching for his third serving of Mabel’s coffee. Damn, but he’d missed the normal everyday things that all human beings took for granted. He savored another drink of the smooth bitter brew. “He pointed his weapon at Brenna with every intention of shooting her had I not stepped in. Besides, I only disarmed him.”

Mason purposefully left out the part that his aim had been perfect in ridding Truman of his weapons. That would only add fuel to the fire, which Mav insisted on stoking in direct opposition to his position from Mason’s point of view. Tank was his usual quiet self, watching and listening before making any conclusions. Owen was leaning against the windowsill in Henley’s office, his customary smirk in place. He liked when he wasn’t in the hot seat.

The main lodge didn’t have the same warm feeling Mason usually experienced on previous visits. Most likely, it had to do with the fact that it had been overrun with the townsfolk. There wasn’t a room that wasn’t busy, the restaurant-styled kitchen had now become Mabel’s domain, and the entire building had taken on a headquarters ambiance. Everyone here was moving in their own circles and was totally oblivious to those around them.

“I’m not saying Truman made the right call by drawing down on you, but he and his team have been an asset that I’m not sure we can give up right now.” Mav sat back in Henley’s black leather desk chair and rubbed the back of his neck in frustration. Either that or exhaustion, judging solely based on the bags under his eyes. It looked as if everyone had been pulling double duty. “We have guard sentries posted on every access point, as well as the natural spring lake up above. We have radio check-in times for the rovers, a sergeant of the guard on each shift, and people designated as a quick reaction force. We have electronic surveillance of likely avenues of approach and coded alarms with handheld radios as backup.”