Page 6

Cripes. Where is that stupid hole when you need it?

On a deep breath and exhale, I reply, “I’m not usually this awkward. Really. I used to be a teacher, and I’d get up in front of the class to teach without making a fool of myself.”

“You’re not.” Erik pats my hand, sending an unexpected explosion of sparks up my arm. “At all. But I would like to know about stinky snickerdoodles.”

“When I was a kid, my mom was big on not swearing. Not because of some religious thing; she just didn’t like it. So she would come up with all these creative non-curses. Stinky snickerdoodles. Sugar on a cracker. Stuff like that. Not that I never curse, but they just kind of stuck with me.”

“I like it,” he replies. “Stinky snickerdoodles. I’ll have to use that one.”

Looking into his eyes, I feel the knot in my stomach unwind. “Do you want to eat anything? Or did you already have dinner?”

“I could eat again. But… would you want to stay? Have one of these sandwiches with me? Kind of like a camp out?”

I grin at him as the last of my nerves fade away. “I’d like that.”

“Okay.” He smiles back at me. “Let me grab some napkins from the kitchen.” Then he stands and says, “I’ll be right?—”

Then he tenses.

His smile drops.

Before my eyes, he transforms from friendly neighbor into a warrior; his posture stiff and shoulders high, his gaze roving quickly around the room. He glances at his watch and sucks in a sharp breath.

“Tatum,” he says in a low, commanding tone, “I need you to hide. Right now.”

Ice encases my lungs. “What?”

With a firm but gentle hold, he takes my hand and pulls me up from the couch. “Intruders,” he replies quietly. “I have an alarm system set up. There are people approaching the house. I need you to hide so I can?—”

But he’s cut off by a deafening crash.

Then another.

Wood splinters.

Glass shatters.

“Shit,” he grits out. He starts dragging me towards the hallway. “You need to hide. Do you have your phone? Call 911. Don’t come out. No matter what you hear.”

“What?”

He wants me to hide while he fights off an intruder?

A moment later, four black-clad figures swarm into the room.

Oh, crap.

“Go,” Erik hisses, “Go! Now!”

Air stalls in my lungs.

They’re running at us.

Light winks off the guns held outstretched in their hands.

Erik steps in front of me, shielding my body with his.

“Leave her alone,” he growls. “Don’t touch her. Or you’ll regret it.” Then, in an undertone, he murmurs to me, “There’s a gun in the bedroom. Lock yourself in there and?—”