“I know, crazy, right?” I whisper. “But it’s true. Cross my heart.” I cross my heart. Above us, there’s a definite sound of someone big walking across the floor. I jump on Stone’s back in fear. “I don’t want to be chopped up,” I whisper into his ear.
“You’re not going to be chopped up,” he says, but he doesn’t sound totally sure.
I swallow hard. Damn it. I don’t want my last meal on this earth to be cold pizza and Jiffy Pop.
CHAPTER 5
I’m clutching on to Stone’s back, and my legs are wrapped around his waist. Bark has stopped barking and is hiding among Stone’s many muscles. In the silence, we wait to see if we were imagining something, if the sound is merely the storm making itself known, or if there’s a man with a chainsaw upstairs preparing to chop me into bite-sized pieces.
“It’s the chainsaw killer,” I whisper into Stone’s ear.
“It’s not a chainsaw killer. Stop watching horror movies.”
“It’s Rock Tucker, the escaped chainsaw killer. I saw it on the news.”
Stone shrugs me off his back and faces me. “Stop joking around.”
“He was in custody and went to the bathroom and he escaped,” I say, nodding for extra emphasis.
“An escaped chainsaw killer on Summer Island?”
“It sounds funny when you say it.”
Stone puts Bark down on the floor, and Bark bites his pant leg. Stone ignores him and curls his hands around my upper arms, leaning down to look into my eyes. “Norma, let’s get this straight. There’s an escaped chainsaw killer on Summer Island? You heard that on the news?”
“Well, not a chainsaw killer,” I whisper. “But an armed and dangerous escaped bank robber. Yes. He escaped when he went to the bathroom. I swear I’m not making this up.” As confirmation that I’m not a liar, there’s another noise upstairs. “It’s probably a tree in the storm, knocking onto the house,” I say, my voice hitching up at the end like it’s a question.
The dog doesn’t believe that it’s a tree. He’s jumping up and down, trying to get back into Stone’s arms. I don’t blame him. I’m doing everything I can not to hop onto Stone’s back again.
“This is ridiculous,” he says. “What are the odds? An escaped bank robber breaks into Ruby’s upstairs?”
“You have a point. He would break into the downstairs, not the upstairs.”
I put my hand on my chest and take a deep breath, finally able to calm enough to breathe regularly. It’s highly illogical that the criminal broke into the second story. Bark still isn’t convinced though, and Stone scoops him up again.
“All right,” Stone says, his voice strong and in command. “I’m going to give the upstairs a once over. You stay here.”
“Are you out of your mind? I’m not staying down here by myself.”
“I’ll give you Bark,” he says, handing him over. Bark doesn’t seem thrilled to be in my weak arms and gives Stone’s big muscles a look filled with longing. The dog has a point. I can’t defend us from an armed and dangerous home invader.
I plop Bark down on the burned out couch, and I stand with my hands on my hips. “I’m not staying down here by myself.”
“But it could be dangerous,” he says. And he’s serious. There’s real concern shooting out of his eyeballs directly at me. Stone Jenkins really is worried about me. He cares. I lick my lips, and his concerned eyeballs get big and dark. If I wasn’t scared for my life, I would jump his bones, again.
Stone blinks. “Okay. Stand behind me the whole time and try not to make noise. I’m sure it’s nothing. Just the storm.”
He could be right. The storm is raging outside, and it’s making a horrible racket. It sounds like Armageddon. The thunder has been replaced with terrible gusts of wind and heavy rain. Mother Nature sounds royally pissed off, and she seems to be taking it out on poor Ruby’s house.
“I won’t make a sound,” I say, and I mean it. I’m going to stick like glue to Stone.
He nods and plants his lips on mine, possessing my mouth in a we’re-about-to-get-killed kind of way. Oh, boy, I can’t believe this is happening. Not the chainsaw killer thing…that I can believe. But this Stone kissing me thing is off the charts unbelievable. I feel like the luckiest woman on the planet, like I’ve won every lottery all at once.
Finally, he releases me and grabs a candle. “Ready?” he croaks. I nod, unable to speak after his kiss. Like a Marx Brothers movie, I clutch his shirt and walk behind him, matching his stride and leaving no space between us. As we walk by the kitchen, I grab the Swiffer Wet Jet and brandish it like a weapon. When we reach the stairs, Stone steps up as quietly as he can, and I follow the same way. When we get about halfway up, there’s another noise, and this time there’s no mistaking the sound of a large person, trotting down the hallway.
“Oh my God,” I hiss. Stone shushes me again, and I clench onto the Swiffer, accidentally turning it on. It makes a whirring noise and sprays the back of Stone’s legs. “Sorry,” I whisper.
Stone takes a deep breath, filling his large chest with calming oxygen. He turns his head as far as it will go in my direction. “Ready?” he asks, probably using all of the patience he can muster.
