Somewhere I'll Find You by Linda Swain

condition not to betray him when he edged his way down.  Mentally, he ran through the limited number of passageways, remembering the location of the antiquated fuse box.  He was easing down the final step when he heard his name whispered softly from no more than an inch away from his ear .
    “Angel,” he hissed, “why in the hell didn’t you stay where it was safe?”
    Her voice was a wisp of a sound.  “Because this is my home, and I’m not about to wait around while you discover who or what is down here.”
    A creaking sound to their right had his fingers tightening on her hand.  “Stay put!”
    “But you can’t possibly know . . .”
    “Stay!”
    Grinding her teeth, Paige glared into the close blackness, knowing the direction of his path even though she hadn’t felt him slip away.  “ Woof ,” she muttered under her breath.  “Well, forget you, Michael Sinclair.  I’ m not the well-trained little lady you seem to want of me.”
    Crouching in the darkness, the unwelcome idea of death and betrayal crept into her thoughts, bringing with them whispers of ghosts, past and present.  Of a sad and lonely man named Erik Fletcher.
    But even as Paige shook the thoughts away, he r senses were screaming while her nerves stretched to breaking point .  The hiss of a match being struck perhaps fifteen feet ahead of her made Paige jump; through the neatly stacked r ows of bottles, she could ma ke out a shadowed figure bent over one of the wine racks. 
    She was inching closer when s he heard bone strike flesh, and a moment later, t he wine racks shivered with the impact of that blow. But there were no sounds, no voices at all. 
    Only later, would Paige realize t he significance of that silence; it was the mark of two professionals who gave nothing away even in the direst circumstances.
    Paige didn’t stop to think of what to do next.  In her mind, she recalled each and every inch of the basement.  There’s three rows of claret here, and a row of Madeira beyond that… The muffled thud of bodies grew louder as Paige worked through the darkness.  She felt the ridge of wood at her feet, a small wooden step stool pushed out of reach of the battling men .
    Perfect!  It’s still here … Her hands closed around the heavy wooden legs.  It would be h efty enough to strike a stunning b low … if only she could figure out where Michael was.
    She took a deep breath just as she heard a painful gasp break the silence.  Close by, a harsh voice, raw with pain, grated out a grunting curse.  By the sound, she knew that Michael was close by, near another rack.  She waited, praying , before throwing the stool with all her strength.
    After a satisfying crack, Paige heard a sharp curse , followed by footsteps that were rapidly approaching her.  Glass shattered around her as a shoulder rammed into her chest , driving the breath from her and slamming her to the floor .  She hit the concrete hard enough to make her see stars, but it wasn’t enough of a blow to render her completely senseless; she could still hear the sound of the figure’s swift passage as he thundered up the stairs and fled into the night by way of the kitchen door.
    “Paige?”  She could only sigh in relief at the sound of Michael’s voice.  “Paige, answer me damn it!”
    “I’m fine.”  Moving to her feet, she clenched her teeth against the pain in her ribs .  “Whoever that was, they’re gone.”
    As Michael threw the proper switches, the cellar flared into view, leaving Paige blinded momentarily.  When her eyes adjusted at last, Paige saw Michael leaning against the fuse box.  His shirt hung in dusty tatters and one of the cuffs was splashed with a red hue that she suspected was not wine.
    “You’re an idiot,” she sputtered , while anger and relief battled each other.  “A complete and utter idiot.  And you’re injured , to boot.”   So now I have to take care of you , she finished silently, seething.
    “Not anything