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“Are you hungry? Maybe we’ll find some food.”
Her stomach growls, and I open the locker, which is smaller than Declan’s. It’s wall to wall boxes and everything has been labeled with a label maker.
“Man, I need this person to come to my house and organize,” Calista says.
I shut the door because nothing seems to have a label that would indicate there’s any food. We walk down the hallway, Calista’s hands entwined in the back of my shirt. I kind of like it, so I don’t razz her about it.
We find another one that’s unlocked, and it’s the biggest unit. With our flashlights, I can see boxes spread out, a few small pieces of furniture, and a lamp. I turn on the light.
Calista gasps. “And you thought Declan was bad?”
One of the boxes is open and overflowing with fuzzy handcuffs and nipple clamps, dildos and vibrators galore.
“Someone kinky lives around here,” I say.
She peers over my shoulder into the box, and I wonder if she’s remembering that time I found her vibrator. I refrain from making the joke because she’s definitely not going to be okay with it.
A loud bang sounds and I pull her into my body.
“What was that?” she whispers.
I’d like to think it’s a box that fell somewhere, but it definitely came from the outside docking area. I quickly turn off the light in the unit and shut the locker door, standing on the one side. Fuck, Declan’s is still open.
“Oh my god, Ry!” Her body shakes in my arms.
“It’s going to be okay,” I promise her.
But that was before the loud sound of breaking glass and a door being pushed open rings out. So much for no crime in small towns.
Twelve
Calista
Rylan whispers for me to stay calm, but I can’t stop shaking. I feel as if I’m back in Chicago when that crowd bombarded us leaving the stadium after Rylan’s team won. Everyone wanted a piece of Rylan and he tried to keep me safe next to him, but it was no use; eventually I slipped out of his grasp.
We hear people cutting off locks and pushing doors open. From the sounds of it, there are only two of them. Men talking to one another.
Rylan steps out of my grip, and rummages for something from the sounds of it. He returns and hands me something long. “We need some sort of protection. You also have your flashlight.”
The men’s voices are growing closer, and my heart is about to burst out of my chest.
“It’s okay, I’ve got this.” He’s trying to reassure me. I know Rylan is strong, but these men could be three hundred pounds and what if they have a gun?
My stomach contracts painfully, and the air is ripped from my lungs. Oh god. I hold whatever he gave me tighter, ready to beat the living shit out of whoever these men are if they try to hurt us.
If this slideshow for Aubrey and Declan doesn’t turn out to be fucking magical and something they watch every year on their anniversary, I’m gonna lose my shit.
“This one doesn’t even have a lock,” the guy says.
The door of the unit we’re in springs open. I hide behind Rylan, but he uses his flashlight to hit the guy over the head.
“What the fuck?” The guy circles around. Rylan continues hitting him over and over.
“Big Joe?” the other guy calls, but all Big Joe can do is give a strangled cry.
Before I know it, Rylan turns on the light and he’s got Big Joe—which must be an oxymoron nickname for the thinnest man I’ve ever seen—in his grip. “Handcuff him.” Rylan nods toward a pair of the fuzzy handcuffs.
“Seriously?”
