Total pages in book: 79
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 75209 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 376(@200wpm)___ 301(@250wpm)___ 251(@300wpm)
“You crawl to safety. Underground. Are you afraid of confined areas?”
I shake my head. Heights, yes, but confined areas, I’m cool with. “I scoured the place when we first got here and found a maintenance tunnel underneath the building.”
“A maintenance tunnel? What?”
He nods, quickly grabbing a few things from the bedside table. “Move, Vera.” He pauses long enough to reach one rough hand to my jaw. “Are you alright?”
I nod. “Of course I am,” I lie. My heart threatens to leap out of my chest, and I feel like I’m going to be sick.
“The tunnel is linked to the old utilities systems. It won’t be comfortable, but we’ll be safe down there.”
I breathe a sigh of relief, and he gives me a curious look.
“I was afraid you’d make me go ahead of you and, like, scout things out or whatever. And I don’t want to go without you.”
He shakes his head. “No way am I sending you ahead without me. We go together, or we stay here together. There’s no other choice.”
I stare at him for long moments before I reach my hands to the back of his head and pull him fiercely toward me. I kiss him, a silent vow that we’re in this together.
“Let’s go.”
He takes my hand, and we hurry toward the back of the room just before an explosion sounds in the tunnel.
CHAPTER SIXTEEN
Nikko
It takes a minute after an explosion for everything to settle. I reach my hand out to Vera and feel her warm, reassuring presence beside me. I run my hand along her arm until I feel for her hand, but I pause long enough to check her reassuring pulse beneath my fingers.
“Are you alright?” she asks. She’s asking me if I’m alright? No one ever asks me if I’m alright.
“I’m fine.” My words sound hoarse in the darkness. “You?”
“Good, yeah. I mean, it’s cramped in here, but I’m alright.” It’s dark and confined but built large enough for a maintenance crew, so we’ll be fine. “Do you know where this leads to?”
“Yeah, the end of this tunnel reaches the community room in the main building. Only a handful of rooms are accessible through the tunnel, but anyone who came into that room could get in here.” I check my gun. “The longer we wait in here, the greater the chance that whoever did that will find us. Stay here. I’ll be right back.”
I push ahead of her when she grabs my arm. “No! I’m going with you.”
“You absolutely are not,” I snap. “You stay here where it’s—”
“Safe?” she scoffs. “Yeah, right. What if someone found a way in? What if that someone hurts you? You might be the one who knows how to shoot a gun, but I’m the one who knows how to stop you from bleeding out if you get shot.”
“I can handle myself,” I say through gritted teeth, but she has a point.
“Markov,” she fumes.
I don’t have time to fight her, goddamn it. I blow out a frustrated breath, pull her to me, and grab a fistful of her hair. “This isn’t over. We’ll have a talk later about the importance of doing what I fucking say in an emergency.”
I hear her swallow before I feel her hand on my chest. I can barely make out the whites of her eyes in the darkness. “Fine, we’ll do that. And then we can talk about the importance of educated decisions under duress.”
Goddamn, this woman.
“Now, are we going to stand around here and argue, or are we going to see what the hell just happened?”
I curse under my breath, take her hand, and push ahead, muttering to myself at the meager light from my flashlight. The end of the tunnel lightens as we get closer to the entry by the community room.
“When did you have time to find this?”
“That first afternoon we got here and you were sleeping.”
“You really jumped straight in with both feet, didn’t you?”
I did, goddamn it, and I’m not so sure if that was smart in retrospect. The thought of her getting hurt—the thought of not being able to protect her. . . Fuck.
At the end of the tunnel, I push her behind me. “You stay the fuck right there, and do not push me right now, woman.”
“Fine, fine,” she says. “But if someone hurts you—”
“You’ll let me handle it.”
When she doesn’t respond, I suspect she’s made up her mind but isn’t going to argue with me right now. With another low growl, I turn around and hold her by both arms as if to forcibly remind her to stay put.
I draw my gun and head into the community room.
It’s empty. I move ahead cautiously, checking every corner, but there’s no place for anyone to hide under the bright overhead lights. It’s a standard office-type room you’d find anywhere with collapsible tables, a coffee maker, and a threadbare couch.