Wicked Business (Lizzy and Diesel 2)

“You don’t like him.”

“There was a time when I admired and envied him. His skills came earlier than mine. But we made different life choices, and it’s placed us in an adversarial position.”

There were some guys and dogs playing with Frisbees on the lawn of a neighboring fraternity.

“Is that Alpha Delta?” I asked Diesel.

“Yeah. It’s the fraternity that inspired Animal House.”

“It’s also mentioned in a lot of references as having a secret tunnel to the Sphinx.”

Diesel looked at the Sphinx, and he looked at the frat house. He shrugged and set out across the grass. “We’ve run down every other ridiculous idea, and some of them got us to this point. We might as well run down this ridiculous idea, too.”

“No stone unturned,” I said, jogging to keep up with him.

He went straight to the front door and walked in, with me trailing behind. Two guys turned to look at us.

“Is Scott here?” Diesel asked.

“Yeah, somewhere.”

“I’ll find him,” Diesel said. “Thanks.” And he walked toward the back of the house and down a staircase.

“How do you know where to go?” I asked Diesel.

“They’re all the same,” Diesel said. “There’s always a guy named Scott, and there’s always a downstairs party room. And if there’s a tunnel, it’s not going to originate on the second floor.”

The downstairs party room was deserted at this time of the day. The light was dim and the room smelled like beer and salami. It had a bar at one end. Some leather couches. Photographs, banners, plaques, and paddles hung on the walls.

I opened a door to a utility closet and found a trapdoor in the floor. “Trapdoor,” I said to Diesel.

Diesel poked his head in and looked down at the door. “Shows promise.”

There were flashlights on a shelf in the utility closet. We each took one, closed the door to the closet, eased ourselves through the trapdoor, and descended into the cramped, dark sub-cellar. Copper water pipes and electrical cables snaked overhead, the floor was dirt, and a metal box sat in a far corner. Danger—High Voltage was written on the box, but the box didn’t look like it connected to anything. Diesel pushed the box aside and uncovered a wooden hatch. He opened the hatch and flashed some light into it. There was a ladder going down about ten feet to another dirt floor.

I wasn’t feeling wonderful about where I was at present, and I really didn’t want to go down to another level.

“How about if I go back to the closet and stand guard,” I said to Diesel. “And you can push on.”

“Not necessary,” Diesel said. “No one knows we’re down here.”

“Did I ever mention my slight claustrophobia?”

“Yes. Did I ever mention my face your fears philosophy?” Diesel slipped into the opening and dropped out of sight. “There’s more headroom here,” he called up. “And it looks safe.”

I’d broken into a sweat, and my brain was screaming, Air! Get me fresh air! I turned toward the stairs that would take me back to the closet, Diesel’s hand wrapped around my ankle, and next thing, I was halfway down the ladder. His hands were at my waist, and I was the rest of the way down.

“It’s going to be okay,” he said. “You’re with me. I’m not going to let anything bad happen to you.”

“I don’t want you

to get too offended by this, but that’s not doing it for me. I’m having a panic attack. I can’t breathe. I’m suffocating. It’s too much dirt. There’s dirt everywhere.”

He pulled me flat against him, and he kissed me. His lips were soft, and his tongue touched mine, and I felt heat move through me. His arms wrapped around me, pressing me into him, the kiss deepened, and when he broke from the kiss, I wasn’t thinking about being buried alive under the Alpha Delta house anymore. I was thinking I wanted more kisses. A lot more. In fact, I wouldn’t mind if he put his hand on my breast. I wouldn’t even mind if he slipped his hand inside my . . .

“Are you okay?” he asked.

“What?”