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“What? I don’t understand.”
“It’s the only logical answer. He doesn’t do stupid things. He wanted you to shoot him. Why? I don’t know, but he did. When he wakes up, we’ll find out.”
“What if he’s not alone?”
“He’s a loner. He doesn’t work with anyone. We’re fine.”
“Someone was tapping on the bedroom window.”
“There’s no reason anyone would tap on the window, especially not in the middle of a blizzard. It was the wind.”
“It wasn’t the wind,” I insist, grabbing his arm. “I’m telling you. Someone tapped on the window. We need to leave. We can’t stay here. Everything in my gut says staying is a mistake.”
“The storm just blasted into us about fifteen minutes ago. There’s no way in or out. We can’t leave. And if we can believe Edward, the roads are blocked.”
“Then how did Edward get here?” I ask. “How?”
“He was already here. That’s the only answer.”
“But you don’t know?”
His hands come down on my shoulders. “We’re safe.”
“Someone was tapping on the window. Please listen to me. I’m not being paranoid. When have you ever known me to be paranoid?”
He considers me a moment. “You’re right. You aren’t one of those people. I’ll go check it out.” He releases me and starts to turn.
I catch his arm. “No, don’t go out there. Not unless it’s because we’re leaving.”
“I’m going to go check it out,” he insists. “After I deal with Edward.”
“What does that mean?”
“I want him secure.” He kisses me. “Keep your gun at your hip. It’ll make us both feel better.” He walks toward the kitchen, and I hear furniture moving around before he reappears, picks up Edward, and throws him over his shoulder.
He heads toward the kitchen, and I pursue him, catching up to him as he walks down a set of stairs in a hole in the floor where the table used to be. I walk to the opening and listen for movement below, but almost immediately, Aaron returns. He steps to my side, shuts what appears to be a cellar door that folds seamlessly into the wooden floor, and then shoves the table back over the top. “Now I’ll go outside and see what the tapping noise was.”
“I can’t even believe this. Who has a secret room?”
“A CIA agent. He also has chains, which is why he’s chained to the wall down there. He’s not going anywhere.”
“If this is his place, how do you know he doesn’t know how to get away?”
“I took precautions,” he assures me and then he’s standing in front of me, cupping my face. “I’m going to make all of this go away.”
“I’m not sure that’s possible,” I say.
“Watch and see. We’ll finish our talk when I get back.” He releases me and grabs his coat from the hook by the door before he pulls on a scarf and the hood of his jacket. He glances back at me. “Come lock up behind me.”
“Don’t go. Please.”
“I’ll be right back.” He opens the door, and in a gust of freezing wind, looks over his shoulder. “Lock up, now,” he orders.
I rush forward, and it’s too late to stop him. He’s outside, disappearing into a whiteout of snow and wind. I shut the door and lock it, landing against it and praying for his return. I again listen for any sounds that tell me anything. I remind myself that Aaron isn’t Noah. He’s a CIA agent. He’s a killer. Okay, I’m not sure this makes me feel better. What would make me feel better is him inside this cabin right now. And then us leaving. Time ticks by. More time ticks by. I think of my last trip to Colorado, me and Noah as I knew him then. We were actually in Aspen at a fancy house with a mountain view when a snowstorm, not so unlike this one, blasted the area and us.
The night he proposed, the night hot chocolate became a thing for us—
I’m comfy in jeans and a navy Aspen T-shirt that matches the one Noah is wearing, that we’d bought while in the cute little downtown area. It’s cozy and perfect, the exact way we’re cozy and perfect. I’ve never been like this with anyone. I’ve never felt this right and good like I’m having a love affair with my best friend.
