Page 8 of Who's Afraid of the Big, Bad World

Noah looked around the small panic room. There was a desk with two monitors attached to the wall above it. Beside it was a tiny kitchen area with a hot plate, toaster oven, sink, and cupboards he assumed were stocked with the basics. There was a single bed against the wall that faced the door, and the remaining wall held a set of shelves filled with bedding and clothing. A portable toilet sat beside the shelves. On a shelf, next to the door, was the first aid kit he’d just raided, a flashlight, a personal alarm, and an old pistol that had clearly never been maintained.

It would have to do.

“I’ll try to barricade us in,” he said, aware time was short and running out fast.

“Just don’t make any noise,” Violet said. “You can hear pretty much everything inside that room. Those walls won’t stop any bullets, either. She’d have been better off hiding in the claw-foot tub in her bathroom.”

“Yeah, I figured as much when you were going postal on the door.”

“Should’ve carried her out when I told you to,” Violet said. “I’ll do what I can from out here. Don’t get shot.” The line went dead.

As Noah tucked the phone back into his pocket, he studied Annabelle, wrapped up like a burrito in the heirloom quilt. She was completely vulnerable, unable to defend herself or her home.

“Good she has you then,”said the voice only he could hear.

Noah wasn’t surprised to see the ghostly image of his dead wife standing at the end of Annabelle’s bed. Therese had beenappearing in his imagination since the day they buried her. At one point, thinking he must be going crazy, he’d sought professional help. The therapist had reassured him he wasn’t seeing ghosts; he was simply processing his grief the way he knew best—by creating an imaginary friend.

Yeah, that sounded perfectly sane.

“I don’t have time right now, Therese,” he muttered as he switched on the monitors above the desk.

“If I’m not real, why do you talk to me?”She rolled her eyes dramatically while tapping her bright red nails on the arm of her black leather biker’s jacket.

As images from inside the building appeared on the screens, Noah turned his attention to them instead of the woman he’d fallen in love with before he’d been old enough to understand the word. Today, she wore her“My Cousin Vinny”outfit—lots of black leather and tight, tight leggings that showed off her shapely legs. It didn’t take much effort for Therese to channel Marisa Tomei’s ballsy Italian American character from the movie. It came to her naturally. Damn, but she’d been sexy as hell when she dressed like that…

He shook his head and focused on the building’s security setup. One camera covered each floor, one the main door, another the back door, and one the stairwell.

It wasn’t nearly enough.

There were far too many shadowed corners where assailants could hide. A wireless keyboard and mouse sat on a shelf under the monitors. Noah set them on the desk and tried to bring up an audio feed. There wasn’t one.

Violet was right. The security system was a piece of crap.

On the screens, he could see eight armed men: four in the stairwell, heading straight for Annabelle’s apartment, and four sweeping the first floor. It was clear from watching them that this wasn’t the first time they’d done this kind of thing. Theywere focused, organized, and worked well as a team. These guys wouldn’t hesitate to shoot if they found a target. And plasterboard walls sure as hell wouldn’t stop their bullets. The panic room was more of a death trap than a safe haven.

Glancing around, he established that the desk was the only solid piece of furniture in the room. He had to move fast. In mere seconds, any noise he made would give them away. He flipped the desk onto its side, forming a barrier between the door and the most protected corner of the room—the area beside the kitchen.

Therese nodded approvingly.“Good idea. Barricades always work in Westerns.”

“This isn’t a movie,” he muttered as he gently lifted Annabelle and placed her on the floor behind the barrier. She didn’t stir, which was a blessing. With any luck, she’d remain asleep and silent for the duration.

Next, he propped the mattress against the desk as an extra layer between them and any bullets that came their way. It was the best he could do. At least their position took them out of the direct line of fire if the men found the door and aimed at it.

Now all he could do was wait.

Therese gazed down at Annabelle with sympathy. Her emotions had always been written all over her face. It had been one of the things he loved most about her. There was never any guessing where he stood with his wife.

“She must be so lonely,”she said.“My heart breaks for her.”

Noah took up position beside Annabelle and drew his weapon, keeping his eyes glued to the monitors. Four men sneaked into the loft, spreading out to sweep the vast space, their guns aimed and ready.

“You need to take good care of her, Noah,”Therese said.

“I’m trying.” It was barely a whisper. “You’re distracting me.”

“Well, excuse me!”She glared at him.“If you die here, I will kick your ass in the afterlife.”

“Noted.”