Page 10 of His to Burn

“Oh-kay,” I muttered with a lift of my brow.

Given the close quarters, I may as well have screamed, but my companion gave no reaction.

I turned my attention back to the problem at hand and pressed the CALL button and waited for the dial tone and expected gruff bark calling out, “Security.”

I didn’t get either.

My only response was silence, so I called again and got the same result.

“Ugh,” I grumbled, then risked glancing over my shoulder.

My brown eyes collided with his, and while his gaze was unreadable, he watched me, seemingly cataloging my every move.

“There’s probably no one manning the desk,” I said. “I’ll just push the bell, and maybe one of the guards will hear it on their rounds.”

Again, he said nothing, and I fought the urge to frown. He probably wasn’t thrilled to be stuck in the elevator, either.

Now determined to get us both out, I pushed the bell again.

The sound was loud yet hollow, and I could visualize the tiny clapper striking the metal and making it vibrate to create the almost shrill sound.

I held the button far longer than I should have, and I realized that, for some reason, I was afraid to let it go.

I couldn’t put my finger on what was happening, but some instinct kept my finger on the button, some irrational fear telling me thatmy finger on that bell was the only thing keeping me from something awful.

The sheer madness of the thought finally made me lift my finger, and the ring faded into darkness and silence.

That silence was terrifying.

I realized why instantly.

I’d probably spent more time in this courthouse than I had at my condo, and in the earliest morning or in the dead of night, there wasalwaysnoise—inmates yelling as they were transported, arguments over traffic tickets, joyous outbursts at a wedding, or adoption, the overnight cleaning crew.

There was alwayssomething.

But now, there was only silence.

I shook off the unease and pushed the button again.

And again got the same result.

I let go of the button and looked back at my silent companion.

His gaze still followed my every move.

Most days, I’d hate that.

I kind of hated it now, too.

But for the wrong reasons.

This man was scary, but at least I wasn’t alone.

Wanting an escape from the sudden vulnerability, I smiled at him and said, “Cop?”

“No,” he barked, the single word clipped and rude as hell.

Asshole.