My eyes scan the room, catching on two imposing figures. One of whom ispainfullyfamiliar.
Oh, shitake mushrooms. I’msoscrewed.
I might need to bust out the mental cuss words for this. For once, it would be nice if my life spiraledintocontrol. Just once.
Locking eyes with the duplicitous devil in the corner, I stop short of the table by a solid five feet. Mr. Votaw clearly didn’t expect me to freeze midstep. So he plows into me from behind, sending me toppling onto the carpeted floor.
“Ah!” he exclaims, sounding pained.
My knees and palms take the initial brunt of the fall as I end in a starfish pose.
Then it gets worse. Suddenly, I’m not the only one on the floor.
“Eep!” I yelp, high-pitched and squeaky, before all the air explodes from my lungs with the force of Mr. Votaw landing on top of me.
I’m flattened like a pancake.
Although I’m a big gal, I’m tiny compared to the panini press of a man on top of me. Mr. Votaw is a gargantuan man. As tall and wide as a linebacker.
And he’s crushing the life out of me.
“Argh,” I groan as I struggle for breath, rapidly losing the will to live.
Why am I bothering to breathe? At this point, I should let nature run its course. Honestly, I’d rather die this way than have to face Satan in the corner. Not to mention the whole multiple felonies thing.
And the last I heard, he finally got his dream job at the FBI, which doesn’t bode well for my chances of leaving here without cuffs on my wrists. Of all the law enforcement officers in the world to arrest me, it’s him.
Figures.
“Sorry, Lila,” my boss sputters while his hands search for a safe place to land.
And right there on the floor, in front of Reed mother-forking Hayes, I’m accidentally groped by my boss. Given my size, it’s understandable that he’d have a hard time steering clear of my mountainous butt cheeks. It’d be like trying to dodge raindrops in a monsoon.
“Sorry again,” Mr. Votaw adds, his voice belaying his physical struggle. And he’sdefinitelyhaving a hard time of it.
Have you ever tried to get off an old, lumpy couch when it’s too low to the ground and lacks any form of support? That’s probably what it’s like for my boss right now. Poor guy.
The butt squeeze was inevitable.
Once he’s removed himself from my person, I lie there for a few extra seconds. Not due to injury. But because I want the floor to swallow me up. I’m hoping that if I stay here long enough, it’ll happen.
Nope. No such luck. That tracks with my current stage of life.
“Are you okay, Ms. Kent?”
Although I can’t see him from down here, where I’m buried in shame and fear, I know it’s not Reed or Mr. Votaw asking. Pretty sure the third man in here was the head of security, which is just terrific.
Without lifting my head, I answer, “Yeah. Fine. Just need a second to recover from the embarrassment.”
Reed laughs at that. I’d recognize that cocky, irritating sound anywhere. Even after all these years.
I don’t even need to look at him to know he’s laughingatme and notwithme. I’d have expected nothing else from him.
Is he here because he finally noticed his sister has been missing for five weeks? Not that he cares. Jerk.
If he wanted to ask me about her disappearance, he certainly didn’t need to haul me into my boss’s office. A phone call would have sufficed.
Not that I’d have answered, which is probably why he’s doing it here. As an added perk for him, I’ll suffer mortification in front of my employer.
