Dim moonlight shines through the lobby windows and I catch a glimpse of a guy in dark clothing and a knit cap. For a brief instant, his face is illuminated by his own flashlight.
There’s something vaguely familiar about him.
The beam of light swings in our direction and directly into my eyes. I hold up a hand to shield my face. Emerson grabs my arm and tugs hard—a move that throws me off balance.
Emerson has a death grip on my hand and yanks me back into the showroom of cars. She’s panicked, stumbling, and I immediately run my hand along the wall and hit the light switch to kill the track lighting.
Darkness envelops us and the alarm still wails. I’m running on instinct because I’ve got to get us out of sight. It’s only a matter of time before the intruder finds the light switches.
The beam of light from the flashlight moves across the room and I squeeze her fingers reassuringly. At least I know this place like it’s my own since I grew up with Max. There’s a door at my back and I feel for the handle. Emerson lets me guide her into the tiny room.
She starts to shake and I don’t blame her. Blood is pounding in my head and I’m breathing like a marathon runner. The guy has a gun in one hand and a flashlight in the other. We’re screwed if he finds us.
I put my fingers on her lips and take her hand so she can feel me locking the door. Although the guy could easily get past a locked door, I’m positive it will make her feel better. She nods that she understands.
This is Max’s secret hideout. His man cave. I take stock from my memory of the place. Trolley cart of snacks. Leather recliners.
I need a weapon. There’s a heavy metal floor lamp in one corner and it’s the only thing I can think of.
Emerson moves every step with me as if she’s afraid to let go. She’s got to be terrified to hang onto me like this. I don’t need her clinging to me when I knock this guy’s head off his shoulders.
The alarm shuts off and the silence practically chimes in my head. I check my cell phone again and it shows zero bars of reception. I shake my head at her. Although it’s pitch black inside the room, my cell lights Emerson’s face.
She nods back and gives me an unsteady but brave smile. Her grip on me lessens and she inhales. I slowly push her to sit in one of the chairs at her left. Wiping my brow with my forearm, I take a couple of steps and close my fingers around the metal lamp base.
We are trapped in this room. We’re so isolated that the world outside might not exist. Sure, we could hear the alarm when it was going off. But I’m not certain whether or not I can hear the guy on the other side of the door. Has he walked away? Is he standing on the other side listening for us?
And who the hell breaks into a car museum? I stand motionless for what seems like hours but has to be minutes. I’m afraid to keep checking my cell in case the light gives us away somehow.
My grip around the lamp base increases and I swear I hear footsteps. I wish I had made Emerson hide in the storage closet.
No time. I need to swing hard at his head. Was he tall? Medium height?
The sound of the doorknob twisting causes me to freeze. I widen my stance and pull the lamp stand back as if it’s a baseball bat. I’m going to fuck this dude up.
One chance.
Emerson hops up from the chair and flings her arms around my waist. My pulse jumps to maximum speed. She needs to get back.
I tense my biceps, tighten my double-fisted grip, and ready for the swing. There’s a tapping at the door, but neither one of us answer.
The noise stops. “Hey, it’s me, Max. Are you decent? Come unlock the door, man.”
Fuuuuck. I exhale and nearly drop the lamp base.
“Yeah,” I answer. Emerson releases her hold on me and I squint into the light of the opening door.
Max scowls. “Did you realize somebody broke in while you guys were in here?”
I exhale and rub one hand over my face. “You think we were in this room when it happened?”
Max deadpans a look. “Well?”
“No. We weren’t. The alarm went off and I thought it was your system malfunctioning. Your burglar had a gun, so I thought we’d get out of sight.” I hold a hand out to Emerson and she doesn’t hesitate. She’s pale and quiet.
“You saw the guy? He didn’t steal anything. He busted my front locks but nothing is missing.”
“Huh.” I rub a hand across my neck and the tension leaves my body. “That’s weird. Maybe we scared him off.”
Max smiles at Emerson. “You okay? A couple of police officers are outside. I told them my friends were in here. They’ll want your statements on what happened.”
Emerson nods. “Sure. But we really didn’t see anything. It was so dark.”
We follow Max into the showroom and one officer waits inside. Blue lights strobe from the parking lot and light up the lobby. I drape an arm around Emerson’s waist and she doesn’t object.
The officer takes our information and questions us. By the time we finish, it’s late and Emerson looks exhausted. I know the feeling. The recent rush of adrenaline has tapped all my energy.
I turn to Max. “Sorry we couldn’t tell them more about the guy.”
Max shakes his head. “I’m glad you two weren’t hurt. It’s the first break-in I’ve had. The alarm system worked great. I don’t keep any cash here. So, I’m not sure what he wanted to steal. It’s not like he could drive a car out.”
“I think I need to take Emerson home. We’re both pretty wiped. I’ll talk to you later this week.” I shake his hand.
Max turns to Emerson. “I hope to see you again soon.”
“Thanks, Max.” Emerson stares out the floor to ceiling windows that line the front of the lobby. She walks toward it as she talks. Her movements are robotic and stiff. I sense something is wrong. I take a few steps to catch up so I can open the door for her.
Then I see what’s got her attention. A dark-colored SUV storms from the parking lot like a tank leaving Baghdad. As I walk to her side of my car and open the door, a sick feeling works its way up from my gut. I thought we were in danger from a criminal hoping to score some cash in Max’s business. The similarities between this vehicle and the one that’s been stalking Emerson are too much to brush off.
If Jordy is right—and I hate how much of the time he is 100 percent correct—then why are the feds watching Emerson? Because I know one thing for certain.
I’m not going to let anyone hurt her.
Chapter Eleven
Habits
Emerson
The line at the coffee shop extends to the door. Of all the times to be running late on my study schedule, this is the pits. I need to get some caffeine and find a quiet corner to memorize my stats notes before the quiz today.
I count the people ahead of me. Five people including the elderly man at the register taking his sweet time as he questions the ingredients about every drink. Look up at the chalkboard, old man...recipes are not secret. Maybe I should skip out and find a different place. The guy two people ahead turns and makes eye contact with me.
Toby. He breaks out his sunshiny smile and his eyes crinkle at the corners.
I wish I could be so chipper. Pushing away my scowl, I give him a half-smile.