That’s not even the most impressive thing.
“And they let you in?”
I turn my focus back to the carpet and tiptoe around the shards.My feet are so numb now it’s not like I can feel if I get cut anyway.I used to think my feet looked like a massacre at the end of a long night of dancing at Cravin’.Now I know I wasn’t even close.
“I can be persuasive.”
I can’t argue with that.Ten minutes alone in a closet and I threw everything I’d ever learned from horror movies out the window.
“The control panel was in there,” he says.“But it’s been tampered with.One of the guys—you remember Lee?”
Yes, I do.I was gonna wingman for him with Nia, the woman who gave a mini plant tutorial at cocktail hour.I was looking forward to it before all of this.Knowing that Lee and Nia have been stuck in a room together this whole time is a promising development.That kind of forced proximity can really help you bond.
“Lee tried to set off the control panel hours ago and it didn’t work,” Wes says.“Not all of the video cameras were damaged, either.The one above the dance floor is still there.”
So Wes found survivors, a hiding spot John hadn’t discovered the whole night, and he decided to go for a stroll along the corridors.Has he learned nothing from our time together?
“Wes…whatare you doing out here then?Why didn’t you stay there?”
That makes him stop short, and he shoots me a look like it’s obvious.He shakes his head, eyes locked on mine, and already I’m stepping into him.Because as soon as I realized he wasn’t responsible for killing half the people we met tonight, that thread in my chest snapped right back into being a steel hook.
“I was looking for you.I needed to make sure you were o—”
I cut him off with a swift pull of his head down to mine and cover his mouth with my own, trying not to cry from relief when he slots his arm at the back of my neck, pulls me in, and kisses me back.It’s quick, though, the best reconciliation we can hope for given the circumstances.When we part, it’s habit to look around to make sure no one can sneak up and stab one of us.When there’s no movement at either end of the hall, I move my hands from his neck to his chest.The bulk of the bandage underneath brings a hard lump into my throat.
“I’m sorry.I’m so,sosorry, Wes.I was—”
“Hey.”He uses the arm around my neck to pull me into his side and starts walking, dropping a kiss against my temple.“It’s gonna take a lot more than that to get rid of me, Jamie.”
That makes me scoff.
“Really?”
“You’d probably be able to convince me to go back into that closet even ifyouwere the killer.”
And that changes the whole tone of the conversation because the killer is still a nameless, faceless, unknown suspect to him.
“It’s John.”
Wes stops, a few feet away from the pile of furniture he barreled into last time, and even with the flashlight directed on the floor, I can see the look of confusion on his face.
“But he…” There’s a second of doubt, and then he catches up.“He wasn’t actually hurt, was he?”
I’d like to think it’s because my tutelage has led him to expect the unexpected, but it’s probably more to do with his occupation, his experience with how you can’t underestimate people who would do something as heinous as taking a life in the name of love.
“He was just playing the part…”
His body tenses next to mine when he realizes there’s only one way I can know for sure, there’s only one thing that would bring that much conviction into my voice.
“Jamie—”
“We ran into each other.”
“Fuck… Are you okay?”He shifts the flashlight over my body like I’ve just told him I’ve got three stab wounds in my back.All his efforts achieve is a nice view of my tits.
No, I’m not okay.Not really.“Yeah.”
“Jamie, I’m—I’m sorry.”He goes to brush his hand through his hair, almost scalping himself before he realizes he’s still holding theknife and jerks it away, drops it to his side.After a second of silent reflection, his gaze meets mine and he just looks… sympathetic.
