DESCENT INTO DANGER
by Shannon Greenland
Release Date: August 2006
ISBN: 1-59080-466-X
Publisher: Echelon Press

Co-owner of an Outfitters in New Mexico, Madeline Theros spends her days leading kayaking, hiking, and spelunking expeditions. It's the perfect life. Until one day a freak accident drops her down a shaft into an uncharted cave. The dream of a lifetime?

There's only one thing standing between Corey Grainge and the vice presidency of a land development company. All he has to do is strip-mine thousands of New Mexico acres, including the uncharted cave. Everything happens for a reason.

Locked in a battle over the land, Madeline and Corey realize they share a history that neither understands. Someone doesn't want them together and will execute any means to keep them apart.

REVIEWS

"The story caught my attention immediately, demanding I finish it in one sitting."
~Coffee Time Romance

“…a spine tingling good story.”
~Writers Unlimited

“Readers will be kept at the edge of their seats.”
~Love Romances

“An enthralling story full of red herrings and romantic intrigue.”
~Ck2s Kwips and Kritiques

“For a story that will be sure to surprise read Descent Into Danger by Shannon Greenland.”
~The Romance Studio

"Greenland offers a fun read filled with bohemian characters and nature's splendor." ~ Booklist

EXCERPT

Fifteen years ago-New York

Taking the porch steps two at a time, Lou bounded through the front door and tossed his 8th grade history book on the hall table.

"Jenny, I'm home," he yelled to his sister and bolted toward the kitchen.

He flung open the refrigerator door, snatched up a grape drink, and gulped it down in one long pull. He let out a loud, impressive burp.

"Yo, Jenny," he bellowed again. "Shake a leg. We've got presents to pick out."

Jenny had told him he could help her register for the wedding. She said the house was just as much his as hers, and he should help pick out kitchen stuff, bath, and bedroom things. It'd be so cool to be a family again. It hadn't been that way in two years. Not since a drunk driver killed their parents.

Lou skipped out of the kitchen and into the living room. Jenny would be back any minute. He powered up the stereo and punched button number one, his favorite station. A Bach concerto filtered through the speakers. He picked up the small, lightweight coffee table and put it on top of the couch, then rolled the throw rug and set it in the corner of the living room.

His ballet shoes hung over the wall-mounted coat rack, right where he'd left them after his early morning workout. He toed his tennis shoes off, tied his ballet slippers in place, and began his pointe work.

Tad, his sister's fiancée, had helped them put down the hardwood floor. Dancing on carpet was a pain in the butt.

Lou smiled as he moved into third position. Tad planned to move his things in this weekend. Sisters were cool, and Jenny the best, but it'd be awesome having another guy around the house. They'd talk about man stuff, things Jenny didn't understand.

He finished fifth position and glanced at the clock on the end table. Another ten minutes and he'd call Tad. Beside the clock, the answering machine blinked. Lou pirouetted over and pressed play.

"Jennifer? Are you there? Pick up." Tad. He sounded funny. "Listen to me. Don't do anything rash. It's not your fault. It's me. Are you listening?" He let out a heavy, weary sigh. "I'm not ready. I'm twenty-six. You're twenty-five. We're so young. I've only been with the company for a year, and they've offered me a promotion abroad. I don't want to miss out on the opportunity. Can you understand?" Another long sigh. "Call me."

It beeped off, and Lou stood rooted to the hardwood floor, heart thumping, staring at the machine. Jenny loved Tad so much, and he loved her, too. They'd been together for a year and a half. Most days she hardly went ten minutes without saying his name or detailing some fun thing they'd done. And they saw each other all the time.

Lou pivoted slowly, his throat a lump of fear. His sister was his whole life. After their parents' death, she gave up dancing to take care of him. They had big plans for the future. He would perform with the New York City Ballet, like Jenny had, and she promised to help him get there. She wanted to have kids and open up her own studio. Tad would be president of his company some day.

"Jenny?" Lou made his way through the living room toward the back of the house.

He passed his bedroom and stopped at the bathroom door. He reached for the knob and turned it, then stopped. Jenny hated when he didn't knock first.

Lou raised his fist and tapped his knuckles on the door. "Jenny? Are you in there?"

Silence.

He pushed the door open, and the shower curtain billowed from the open window. Hawaiian Breeze wafted out on a rush of fresh air.

Lou crept the rest of the way down the hall and approached her bedroom. He rapped lightly, waited.

No answer.

He tried again, this time harder.

Still, no answer.

"Jenny?" he whispered, slowly turning the knob.

Dark. Pitch black. Her room's never dark.

She loved bright things, thrived on them. Sunny yellow walls, orange bedspread, pink clothes, sparkly fingernails. Even when she slept, a nightlight illuminated the room.

Trembling now, he slid his hand along the wall and with baby steps began to follow it over to the window. Her overhead light didn't work. Tad said he'd fix it after he moved in.

Lou's left foot lodged under something soft and heavy. He looked down, but couldn't make it out, took a large step over, and continued on until his fingers touched the curtains.

He patted them and found the chord, pulled, and a shaft of sunlight beamed in. He blinked a few times, scrubbed his eyes with his hands, and then glanced around the room. Her oversized, stuffed, blue bird lay against the wall. Lou walked over and retrieved it.

"Stupid bird."

Tossing it on the bed, he noticed an open crack in her closet doors and went to close them. He pushed on the right bi-fold. It didn't budge. He pushed again. It gave a slight bounce, but went no further. He slid it open to see what-

Jenny sat slumped in the corner, arms limp at her sides. Red splatters covered the wall and her clothes. A crumpled picture of Tad lay in her lap. Their dad's gun rested at the tips of her right fingers, and a bullet hole marred the side of her head.

Lou caught his breath. The metallic smell of blood overpowered his senses. He fell, bonelessly, face first into the closet.

Same time-Texas

For three months Corey had seen the black haired ballerina at the gym every Monday, Wednesday, and Friday at 3:30 p.m. She'd appeared one afternoon out of the blue, and he hadn't stopped thinking of her since.

Maddy. What a pretty name. Probably short for Madeline. He liked old-fashioned names.

"Hold it, Maddy, hold it," her mom coached, pushing Madeline's back, forcing her chin, chest, and stomach to the floor while she maintained a split.

Corey grimaced as he did every time she twisted her small, lean body into some God-awful position.

He glanced at his watch. 5:30 p.m. She'd go to the Stairmaster next.

Gripping the handholds on the leg machine, he executed another extension and surreptitiously watched Madeline unfold from her pretzely pose. She walked past him on the way to the cardio equipment. Earth. She always smelled natural.

She'd performed in The Nutcracker last month at the Dallas Convention Center. Corey saw the flyer at the gym and bought a ticket. His fraternity brothers would die of hysterics if they ever found out.

Madeline had been so graceful and elegant up on stage. Not surprising. She conducted herself in that manner every time he saw her.

"Dude, you gonna be there all day? How many sets you got left?"

Corey turned his attention to the thick necked, squatty man standing beside him. "Sorry, all yours."

The man gave a grunt of approval as Corey slid from the machine. He swiped his towel over the backrest and seat, then made his way to the dumbbell rack-located in the perfect spot to watch Madeline on the Stairmaster.

He grabbed a set of twenties and began bicep curls. She didn't even know he existed. Or maybe she did and pretended she didn't.

She chose a magazine from the rack, spread it out on top of the Stairmaster, put on her headset, and began her workout. She flipped a few pages, stopped, perused, flipped a few more, and started reading. The article must have been interesting, because she never looked up once. Even after the Stairmaster stopped, she stayed and kept reading.

Somebody interrupted her, wanting the machine. Madeline grabbed her towel and wiped her neck as she walked over to the magazine rack. Again, she stood and continued to read.

Curious what held her undivided attention, Corey squinted across the free weight area, into the cardio room. The magazine cover showed a kayak zooming down the face of a waterfall.

An outdoors magazine? Huh. Not fashion or entertainment.

She finished up and headed to the women's locker room. Thank God. His muscles had been screaming for the last thirty minutes.

After a quick shower, Corey emerged from the men's room. Rounding the corner on his way out, he caught sight of her on the waiting room's couch. She sat curled in the corner, reading a book.

He scanned the area, didn't see her mom anywhere, and sauntered over. He settled in a chair opposite her, picked up a magazine, and flipped through it. After trying to appear bored, yet busy at the same time, he glanced at her.

Madeline wore her silky, straight hair smoothed into a high dancer's bun. He'd seen it down once and curbed a smile remembering…

She'd been in the gym's aerobics room with her mother, practicing some of those slow, pointy-toed turns. Her mom left the room to make a phone call, and Madeline, after a minute of maintaining her routine, snuck over to the door and peeked out. Apparently satisfied her mother would be awhile, she raced back across the room to the stereo, twirled the knob to Metallica, and cranked it so loud it shook the Plexiglas windows.

She ran a spirited lap around the room, then began a series of extraordinary leaps, spins, and airborne splits. She gyrated, twisted, and did moves straight out of Flashdance. And in the midst of her exuberance, her hair flew out of its bun, and the length of it fell to her waist.

Corey had been at the leg rack at the time, and paused in between sets, watching the scene play out before him. Her mother hung up the phone, jotted some notes in a personal planner, and then started back across the gym. His heart raced as he watched her walk with military precision, focused on getting back to work. An elderly lady intercepted her, and they exchanged some friendly words.

His gaze bounced to the aerobics room where Madeline was still doing her thing, then to her mother, talking. Back to Madeline, dancing. Again to her mother. She said goodbye to the older lady, walked a few more steps, and pulled open the door.

Her mother marched straight to the stereo and flicked it off. Madeline came to a screeching halt and stood panting, watching her. With a stern face and pointing finger, her mother reprimanded her while Madeline looked her in the eyes. Even though the Plexiglas muted their confrontation, Corey got the impression her mom had caught her in the Flashdance mode before.

Madeline had a rebellious streak in her.

"Yo, Corey, you gonna sit there all day or go home and get some studying done for finals?"

Jarred back to the moment, he glanced up. One of his fraternity buddies hovered near the exit door. "I'm heading home in a few."

"Need a lift?"

"No. I'm waiting on somebody."

"Who?"

"Um, this old man I met, um, has some information on, um, working out." He had to be the world's worst liar.

His friend gave him a puzzled expression. "All right then. Catch ya tomorrow."

He shot him a quick goodbye wave and looked back at Madeline. She snapped her gaze from him to her book.

Corey curbed a knowing smile. "Hi. Whataya reading?"

She peeked at the cover as if she'd forgotten the title. "Out of Loss."

"Oh. Any good?"

She nodded and stuck her nose back in the book.

"My name's Corey. What's yours?"

She gave him a small, polite smile. "Maddy Theros."

"Maddy. Hmmm… Short for Madeline?"

"Yes. But it's not Madelinn with a short i. It's Madeline with a long i."

"Oh." She'd obviously explained that more than once. "What kind of last name is Theros?"

"Greek. My mom's Italian, and my dad's Greek."

That explained Madeline's olive skin and pale, gray-green eyes.

"What's your last name?" she asked, primly turning a page of her book.

"Grainge."

"What kind of last name is Grainge?"

Corey's mouth twitched at her mimicking his own question. "Texas. I'm from generations of Texans."

Her lips curved into the biggest, sweetest grin he'd ever seen. That and her amazing eyes took up her whole face. "I love Texas. Do you live on a ranch?"

Funny how people thought Texas and ranches went together. "No. We live in a subdivision not far from here."

"We?"

"Me, my mom, and younger brother."

"No dad?"

"Divorced."

"What are all their names?"

Lot of questions. "My whole family? Conrad, Constance, and Cole."

"Oh my lord, and you're Corey. That's too funny."

Yes, actually, it was pretty funny. No one had ever asked him his family's names. Interesting.

She looked up at his hair. "Do you highlight?"

He paused a second, taken off guard by her quick change of topic. "What? No." Highlighting? That was for girls and fancy guys.

"My friend Shelly highlights her hair, and its platinum like yours."

Platinum? "My hair's not platinum."

"Well, that's what Shelly said hers was."

"Good for Shelly. My hair's still not platinum. It's blond."

Both brows hiked an inch. "Okay. I'll give you blond." She put her finger in the air as if they were meeting half way on the subject. "Light blond."

Corey laughed, and she did, too.

"So," he changed the topic, "you're a ballerina, huh?"

Her laughter faded. "Yep."

"Is that what you want to do with your life?"

She shrugged a tank-top covered shoulder. "It's what my mom says I'm going to do."

Uh-oh. "Well if you got to pick what you wanted to do, what would it be?"

Madeline glanced over her shoulder, obviously checking for her mother. Intrigued, he kept his gaze focused.

She leaned in close, her eyes dancing with excitement. "Spelunking."

Corey frowned. "Spelunking?"

"Cave exploring."

"Huh. Didn't expect you to say that."

Madeline grabbed her backpack and unzipped it. Papers popped out and a pencil rolled onto her lap. She shoved it all back in, dug around, and pulled out a crinkled magazine clipping.

On the cushion beside her, she smoothed it flat, and held it up for him to see. "This is Holloch, it's in Switzerland. It's sixty-four miles long. Can you imagine a cave sixty-four miles long?"

"And this one," she fished around in her backpack again, pulled out another clipping, held it up, "is in Spain. There's a whole city under the ground, complete with electricity and mule carts and a school and a church and even a movie theater."

"And this one," she turned the clipping over, "is right here in the United States. It has a room measuring one-hundred-and-forty-two acres. It's the biggest in the world. You do realize an acre is about the size of a football field, don't you?"

Corey laughed. Clearly, caves excited her.

"Well?"

"Yes, I realize that."

"So that means one-hundred-and-forty-two football fields." She shook her head. "Blows my mind thinking about it. Oh, and check this out." She thrust her hand down inside her pack again, pulled out a wad of papers, tossed them aside, found a miniature candy bar, unwrapped it and took a bite, then slipped a book out.

She flipped to the center and turned it around. A grotesque, milky, see-through fish with no eyes spanned the two pages. "This is an Amblyopsis Speleaus," she whispered in reverence. "I cannot wait to see one of these. They're found right here in North America. Kinda weird, aren't they?"

"I'll say."

She snapped the book closed and jammed it in the seam of the couch. "And there are species of beetles and snails and insects and spiders. Years of living in darkness has metamorphosed them into these pale creatures without eyes. But what's cool is even though they don't have vision; their other senses are practically bionic."

"That is cool." He hadn't had this much fun in a mostly one-sided conversation in forever.

"Madeline," her mother called from the exit door in her authoritative, Italian accent. "It is time to go."

Nooo.

Madeline heaved a bummed-out sigh. He commiserated.

She stuffed everything back in her backpack, barely got it zipped together, and slung it over her shoulder. She handed him the left over candy bar. "Take this. Otherwise I'll get an hour long lecture on sugar and how it'll hurt my body." She leaned over. "There's no chocolate on my mouth, is there?"

He focused on her lips. "No. All clean."

"Good." She stood and shot him a grin. "Bye."

He smiled. "Bye."

She jogged over to meet her mom, and they exited the building.

Corey folded the wrapper over the half-eaten candy bar and dropped his gaze to the couch. She'd left her book wedged between the cushions. He slid it free and put it in his gym bag. He'd give it to her in a couple of days on Friday. It'd give him an excuse to talk to her.

But he never saw her again.