“Are we really doing this now?”
“Yes, we are really doing this now.” He snaked a hand around my waist and pulled me to him. “Give me a kiss, and then we can go save the world.”
His mouth was on my neck as I spoke. “I’d rather save the world first, then kiss.”
“Sometimes, killer, you’ve gotta smell the roses.”
“So that you can appreciate them?”
“No,” he said, coming up from my neck for air. “So that you make sure you know the difference between them and dog crap.”
I giggled. “That’s the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”
“Good.”
Then his lips were on mine before I could squeak out even a faint protest. Roan kissed me long and deep, to the point where I almost forgot my own name.
Almost.
After a moment I was drunk off his lips. “What are we doing again?” I murmured.
“Saving the world one ghost hunt at a time,” he said, more as suggestion than statement.
I laughed again. “Okay. Then let’s untangle ourselves and do that.”
He sighed in protest, but Roan released his hold on me. I whirled around to head back down the hall when he called my name.
“Watch out!”
Before I could take another step, Roan launched himself at me. His chest hit my back and slammed me against the floor. The air left my lungs in a great whoosh, and I couldn’t get another breath.
I tried to suck air, but nothing would enter my lungs. I’d had the wind knocked out of me a few times, and I swear, every time it happened, it always felt like I’d never breathe again. It wasn’t a feeling that I could ever get used to.
Annoying, yes.
But after a few seconds the wind did slowly filter back into my chest. It happened about the same time as Roan’s voice filled my ear.
“You okay?”
“Yes,” I screeched. “Why did you do that?”
“Be careful getting up,” he said by way of not answering me. “Let me help you.”
“What is going on?” I snarled. Yes, we might have been engaged, but that didn’t mean I had to stop snarling. It was sort of my greeting card.
Roan slid off me and pulled me to standing, then twisted my body so that I was forced to bend before walking a few steps.
“That should be okay. Now. You can stand,” he told me.
“About time.”
“Trust me, you’ll thank me.” He slowly pivoted me. “That’s what we were avoiding.”
Suspended from the ceiling and swinging to and fro from a thin rope hung a steak knife.
“What the…?”
“We must have tripped a cord or wire coming this way,” Roan explained. His fingertips brushed over the rug. “Yep. Here it is.” He plucked a thin wire from the floor and frowned, his brow furrowed in anger. “Booby trapped.”
