Page 48 of The Storm

“The Eagles were playing the Tampa Bay Buccaneers, and I failed to factor that into the usual nap time. He saw me from the living room window.”

I laugh out loud. “Not a promising start to a life of crime.”

“It did take the wind out of my sails a bit.”

I turn my head toward him, even though I can’t see anything in this darkness.

“What happened then?”

“Then…” he says slowly. “I got a good earful. A few threats about scalping and how he had been in Korea.”

“And?”

“I was eight, so I started crying at full volume and gave an extremely snotty explanation about why I was in his shed. And then… he helped me build the feeder. Showed me how to use all the tools. Gave me nails and screws. Showed me how to paint. Mom cried when I presented it to her. We did a lot of squirrel watching that winter.”

I wait, but there’s nothing more.

“Do you still keep in touch with him?” I ask. “Jenkins.”

“We moved away when I was ten.”

I’ll take that as a no.

There’s a faint dripping sound from somewhere. Wouldn’t it be just the cherry on top of this shittastic day if this place suddenly started filling up with water, and we drowned in this metal box?

My whole body tenses again, even if I logically know there’s very little chance that drowning will be the cause of death in our case.

You have plenty of things to worry about. No reason to imagine implausible scenarios.

Of course, getting buried under a building in a fridge also sounds implausible, yet here we are.

I snort out a weak, desperate laugh.

“What?” Nick sounds alarmed at once.

I rub my palms over my face and shake my head.

“Blue,” he says sternly. A shiver runs down my spine.

Wow.

I mean, fuckingwow.

What a thing to get turned on by right now. Excellent timing.

I laugh again helplessly and immediately suck in a breath.

I’m officially losing it. Trapped in a fridge. Thinking about sex.

His fingers find the pulse point in my neck again, and my eyes slam shut. I lick my dry lips.

“Still harmless?” he asks.

No.

No, I’m pretty sure we passed harmless a while ago.

“What do we do?” I ask. “Maybe we can try the door again. Together?”