I screamed bloody-fucking-murder and jumped into his side, clawing at his arm, practically begging for him to scoop me up.
He didn’t.
Instead, he stepped in front of me, crossed his arms, and arched a rather judgmental eyebrow. “You do nothing except work, occasionally grab lunch with your colleagues, and your idea of being outdoorsy is sitting in the sun at Fenway rather than sitting in the shade.”
Right. Because Jude isn’t just the hot, kind of scary bouncer from the casino. He had assaulted my brother, stalked both of us, and kidnapped me.I couldn’t let myself forget that, no matter how kind he was in the quiet moments.
“Anyone with access to Google and Instagram could find that out.”
Jude shrugged. “And your ‘friend’ Jake wants to fuck you.”
I tripped, but Jude didn’t stop walking.
“Jake is one of my closest friends,” I said defensively. “We’rejustfriends.”
Jude scoffed. “Maybe to you.”
“Did you stalk him too?” I sassed.
He unlocked the door that looked like it was one light breeze away from collapsing but turned to face me instead of going inside. “I know everything about you, Amelia. That includes everyone in your life.” He looked me up and down in a slow, deliberate appraisal. “Which is why I know that Jake Hastings wants to fuck you. He was pretty pissed you turned him down after lunch.”
And with that, he went inside.
For a moment, I stood in the middle of the forest, staring at where Jude had been. Shell-shocked didn’t even begin to cover it.
I snapped out of the stupor with a shake of my head. “I’m too tired for these mind games,” I muttered as I made my way into the cabin.
Surprisingly, the inside of the cabin didn’t match the outside. Where the exterior was a hodgepodge of mismatched boards, overgrown shrubs and climbing vines, crumbling shutters, and a roof that looked like it belonged in the story of “The Three Little Pigs”—afterthe wolf blows it down—the inside was neatly kept and appeared quite sturdy.
I wasn’t entirely sure what I had expected this “safe house” to be. Maybe it was just safe because anyone else would have condemned it. The cabin had one full-sized bed, a couch, and a single nightstand between the two of them. The couch and bed were covered in sheets, while the nightstand was coated in a thick layer of dust. The kitchen had a small oven with a cooktop, a sink, and a refrigerator that was either intentionally retro or was really just that old. There was a small door that could have been a closet or a bathroom. And for goodness’ sake, I hoped it was the bathroom. The only other thing was a woodstove that was dripping in cobwebs.
I stood in the doorway, watching as Jude moved about the single-room space. He went to the sink first and turned on the tap. The water sputtered and spat, gurgling in the pipe before finally pouring out. He watched carefully as the flow went from cloudy to clear. The fridge was next. He opened it, poked his head in, then reached around to the back to plug it in to the wall.
Jude was silent as he crossed the cabin with long, purposeful strides. He pulled the nightstand out from the wall. That was when I noticed the notches in the dusty wood floor.
He bent, slipped his finger into a small divot in the floorboard, and lifted.
A square of flooring, barely bigger than his body, lifted on hidden hinges. I watched curiously as he peered into the hole, then slowly eased himself down.Are there stairs?
“Amelia,” he called from below. “Come here.” His tone wasn’t panicked, so I assumed there was something he wanted me to see rather than something that was wrong.
I crept across the cabin and peeked down into the trapdoor, where there was, in fact, a small wooden ladder. “Yeah?”
“Come down.”
I laughed. “Absolutely not.”
Footsteps shuffled as he moved back into view and stood at the base of the ladder. “I’m not kidding. Come down. I need to show you where things are.”
“Is there a real safe house down there? You know, one with air conditioning and amenities and cool touch pad biometric-access-only doors that hide your state-of-the-art technology and weapons cache?”
He lifted an eyebrow. “Do you think I’m James Bond or some shit?”
“A girl can dream.”
Jude rolled his eyes and reached up. “Get down here.”
“You’re right. James Bond has fewer tattoos and better manners,” I said as I grumbled the entire way down.
