Trouble and Treasure (#1, Trouble and Treasure Series) (21 page)

Sebastian didn’t look up, instead he kept
sitting there, banging one of his shoes against the side of the
crate, staring at some nondescript section of the floor.

I didn’t turn from Sebastian, still hoping
he would lift his chin and look at me. When he didn’t, I took
several steps backwards.

I
turned around and headed to the stairs in the center of the
room. I took to them silently.

I was starting to realize Sebastian was
more complicated than I’d originally given him credit
for.

Shaking my head, I continued upstairs,
hand on the railing, possibly holding it too tightly. I still
couldn't shake the body-memory of having to hold on for dear life
outside against the storm. There was a great deal of residual
adrenaline and fear rushing through my body. At the sound of a
squeak on the stairs above, I gave a sudden jump, a squeak of my
own issuing from my lips. When I realized it was just the rickety
old stairs, and not a light-footed mercenary stealing down them, I
rolled my eyes and continued on.

I crested the stairs onto the next floor.
It was narrower than the floor below, the lighthouse though thick,
still tapered up to a point above. This floor was still sweet, and
far better furnished than the one below. Possibly in the event it
was far less likely this one would get flooded by water inching its
way under the door.

The room was circular, with vibrant red
carpet, several comfortable chairs, and a television on a desk to
the side. As I walked around, the ludicrously colorful carpet gave
way to a checkered black and white Linoleum and a small kitchen. It
had an old-style cooker, with a kettle on the stove, bench space
either side, and cupboards running along the wall. As I walked past
one of the chairs, I grabbed one of the warm woolen throws over the
back, and pulled it around my shoulders. I nestled into the fabric
as I walked further into the kitchen, grabbing the first cupboard I
saw and opening it.

There was a can of baked beans. I grabbed
it and
put it down on
the bench, smiling. I kept walking around the kitchen and back
around into the lounge. Though my stomach was rumbling, I still
wanted to explore the rest of the lighthouse. I wanted to get into
some clean clothes, and though it was highly unlikely I would find
anything in my size, I needed to ditch these heels.

The heels made me think about Sebastian
again. He told me they'd come from a one night stand. How charming.
What kind of man admitted to that? Sebastian obviously.

B
efore I could get too angry at him, I realized he was still
the same man who was sitting on a crate downstairs, shoulders
hunched together, head directed towards the ground, eyes hooded
with fatigue and surrender.

Complex bloody fool, I thought to
myself.

Keeping the woolen blanket clutched
tightly around my shoulders I decided to take the stairs up to the
next floor. The stairs creaked and squeaked as I walked up, but I
ignored it. I reached the next floor, and I turned the light on.
This one had a small bedroom, a single bed pushed up against the
wall, another bookcase, and a closet off to one side. It also had a
window. Biting my lip hard, I inched my way towards it. I could see
from a distance that the view outside was of nothing more than dark
seething clouds and driving rain, but that didn’t stop me from
creeping towards the window as if I would see a monster with its
face pressed up against the glass.

My top teeth were sunk so hard into my
bottom lip that unless I lessened my bite I would draw
blood.

I made it up to the window. Rather than
face it in full, I pressed my back to the side and inched my face
around until I could see through it. It gave me a view of half of
the ocean beyond and half of the cliff behind. Shaking, I let my
eyes dart over the cliff, searching for anything that would let me
know there was someone still out there.

I didn't see anything, and I shrunk back
into the room.

“
You should stay away from the windows,”
Sebastian said from behind me.

I gave a loud yelp, jumping back in
surprise.

“
Sorry,” he replied. With a sigh, he walked
over to the closet, opening it and rifling through it. He threw a
pair of pants down by his feet, followed by a checkered shirt.
Then, searching through more, he grabbed a pair of track pants and
another checkered shirt, turned to me, and threw them my
way.

Though I was ready for it, I didn't manage
to grab them, and clutched fruitlessly at the air as they fell by
my feet.

Despite the fact Sebastian’s expression
was still cold and had a real measure of defeat to it, my pathetic
attempt managed to bring the smallest of smiles to his
lips.

“
What?” I managed, leaning down to pick
them up, “You threw them too low,” I added.

“
I did not,” he replied easily, leaning
down and grabbing the clothes by his own feet.

I couldn't help but raise an eyebrow at
what he’d given me: a pair of thick, warm blue track pants and a
red and blue checkered shirt. Fashion, pure and simple.

“
Sorry, but there's nothing else in here,”
he said.

“
It’s okay,” I made a show of looking at
the track pants, “These are fine. Anything that’s dry is fine.” I
smiled hard. I wanted him to know that everything was okay, that
despite the fact we were in a desperate situation, I was
okay.

He shrunk into his shoulders and headed
back to the stairs. “You can change up here,” he said, not turning
to me once, “But stay away from the window.” He walked back
downstairs in silence.

He left me with an uneasy feeling pitching
in my gut. It wasn't because I felt frightened or angry at him; it
was because I couldn't understand how to make him more like
Sebastian Shaw again. The Sebastian from this morning, the one
who’d been angry at me for being upset and running away to
Elizabeth's.

I changed into my new clothes. They were
warm and dry, and while the shirt was scratchy, it would
do.

With a sigh, I took to the stairs,
intending to find Sebastian.

I reached the level below, walking into
the room and stopping suddenly; Sebastian hadn’t finished changing.
While he did have pants on, he was lacking a shirt. He looked over
at me, impassively, grabbing the shirt he’d put over the back of a
seat and shrugging into it.

I, being the fairly decent girl I was,
turned my back. “Sorry,” I mumbled sharply.

He chuckled from behind me. “You’re all
right, Amanda.”

I didn't turn back, and it was less to do
with the fact I was worried I was being rude, and far more to do
with the fact my cheeks were hot and flushed.

“
You’re a pretty weird woman,” he
noted.

I wasn't sure what that was meant to mean,
and turned to face him again.

As I did, realizing he was fully dressed
and ignoring how disappointed that made me feel, I noticed one half
of his mouth kinked up in a grin.

“
Don't we look the pair?” He began to roll
up his sleeves.

We
were in matching red and blue checkered shirts and dark
blue track pants. While we matched, it wasn't a pleasant match.
While the men hunting us were dressed in the latest military gear,
Sebastian and I looked like we’d rolled out of bed this morning,
left our pajama bottoms on, grabbed our fishermen shirts, and
hadn't even bothered to put our mean faces on. Rather than point
out to him that he could look harder and try to find some better
clothes, I chuckle. I couldn't think of anything intelligent to
say, so I ended up shrugging my shoulders and rolling my
eyes.

Slowly the other side of his mouth kinked
up. That was all he did. He didn't add anything, didn't emphasize
how bad I looked; he stood there, one hand on the back of that
chair, both sides of his lips curled up in a smile.

I was surprised at how much he could say
without words.

That would be when there was a bang from
upstairs. I flinched away from the stairs, taking several quick
steps into the room and towards Sebastian.

His eyes flickered with concern, head
turning towards the ceiling, still wet hair dripping down his face.
He mimed a silent expletive and shook his head. “That better be
them,” he said quietly.

Before I could ask who, the sound of heavy
footsteps filtered into the room.

I took several more steps back, head
shaking, shoulders tensing up.

“
Get down, get behind this seat.” Sebastian
motioned to the seat, voice quiet but firm.

I didn't protest, just did what he said
and watched as he made his way into the kitchen, probably looking
for a weapon.

As I crouched low behind the seat, limbs
stiff and breath coming in short sharp bursts again, I listened
with all my might to the sound of those footsteps. It sounded as if
there was more than one person; the beat of the footsteps too close
together for it to be one man.

I squeeze
d my eyes shut and tried to block out the rush of
fear.

The footsteps reached our floor.

I didn’t make a sound, and I didn’t move.
I stayed there, face pressed against the old musty leather of the
seat in front of me, one hand over my mouth to make sure I didn’t
make even the smallest of sounds and give my position
away.

The blood pumped violently through my
arms, and they shook, my whole body shaking with them. I was too
scared to turn around and see where Sebastian was, whether he’d
managed to get a weapon, or whether he was opening the window,
ready to take his chances with the storm and drop below.

I heard someone give a rough cough, and it
sent a tremble of recognition through me. I knew that cough.

“
You here?” a voice asked.

The voice was Maratova’s.

Sebastian walked right past me. He didn't
rush, he didn't attack, he walked.

“
Shaw,” Maratova said, voice a growl,
“About fucking time.”

My heart beat so strongly I felt sure
everyone in the room could hear it.

Sebastian didn't answer
.

“
Where’s the girl?” Maratova
asked.

I could have screamed, and it was only the
fact I had one hand clutched over my mouth that I didn't.

“
You did the right thing,” a different
soldier said.

“
Mark,” Sebastian managed.

“
Come on, Shaw, you called us. Stop wasting
our time,” Maratova replied, still growling.

I was shaking, shaking far more violently
than I had ever shaken before. While I’d once believed I was
trapped, I now knew I was cornered in a way I could never have
appreciated.

Sebastian had sold me out.

“
She is...” Sebastian trailed
off.

I did something brave
, something that didn't seem possible
considering how frightened I was. Shaking all over, I stood up from
behind that seat. Despite the fact all I wanted to do was get the
hell out of here, I stood and stared at the three soldiers before
me, without looking at Sebastian once.

I could easily figure out who Maratova
was. He was the one in the middle, the tall one with the broad
shoulders and thick muscular neck. The one with depressed, drawn
lips and eyes that stared out at me with a hollow, dead, but
determined look.

One of the soldiers next to Maratova, who
was shorter and had a wiry frame and a far kinder expression on his
face, looked my way. “It's all right.”

I stared back at him, still not blinking,
and not speaking.

He let go of
the heavy gun on a strap over his shoulder and let
it drop to his side, and lifted his hands slowly. “It's fine, we
aren’t here to hurt you.”

He sounded so genuine, so honest.

“
We're here to help,” he said again, “And
it sounds as though you need a bit of help, Amanda.”

Yes, it did. I had no idea whether the
three soldiers before me were going to offer any. One thing was
clear, Sebastian wasn't. He’d called them here, told them where I
was. Why? Why had he spent the last day telling me how evil they
were and how much I had to get away from this Maratova guy? Had all
this been some game from the beginning? Had Sebastian had some
plan, and was this part of it?

I swallowed
painfully.

I didn’t know what to think, and it wasn't
as if thinking would help anyway; I had zero options
here.

Sebastian kept a pointed and conspicuous
silence by my side. He was even leaning away from me as if I was
some fetid, rotting scrap of meat that he didn't want to be
anywhere near.

I swallowed again, this time harder.

Mark began to put his hands down. “Amanda,
we are going to take you somewhere safe. You can trust us,” he
said, again sounding genuine.

I nodded. I had no option but to trust
this guy, or at least follow him.

“
I tell you, Sebastian,” Mark said with a
shake of his head, “We had no idea what you two were
doing.”

Sebastian didn't answer, just gave a
slight grunt.