“We’re the preteens?” Dylan said incredulously. “You’re the one who locked us in here!”
He fought a grin. “It’s for your own good. And I suggest you use the time allotted to sit down and have a real talk, instead of bitching at one another the way you’re so fucking good at.”
Another muted curse, this one feminine and so vulgar his eyebrows shot up.
“Ah, sweetheart, such language,” he chided. “You’re better than that.”
“Fuck you, Aidan.”
“Yeah, fuck you, Aidan,” Dylan echoed.
Chuckling, he reached for the other item he’d liberated from the office, the cardboard box he’d set down on the hardwood.
As he opened the box, he heard Dylan murmur something to Claire, and not even the barrier between them could disguise the determination in the SEAL’s voice. But even without that telltale tone of voice, Aidan had known exactly what Dylan’s next move would be.
“Hey, man, if you’re thinking of kicking in the door, I wouldn’t recommend it,” he advised.
“Yeah, and why’s that? Because you know I’m perfectly capable of smashing this door down.”
“Yep, but just know that if you do, your mother’s Christmas present will smash right along with it.”
Still laughing, Aidan removed the fragile glass angel nestled in the protective Styrofoam. He gently placed the angel on the chair and stepped back to admire his handiwork. Nice. Any damage Dylan inflicted on the door would cause the chair—and the angel—to crash right to the floor.
“How much was that angel again?” he went on, feeling a lot more cheerful than he probably should. “Six hundred bucks? And didn’t you get it commissioned by that famous glassblower dude from Sweden? It’s one of a kind, right?”
There was a brief silence, then a very quiet, very calm, “You’re the fucking devil, Aidan.”
“Straighten your shit out,” he repeated. “I’ll be back in a couple hours. Oh, and I left a box of provisions under the bed, just in case the forced confinement inspires some kind of fucked-up Alive situation.”
Without letting either one of them respond, he walked away with a spring to his step.
Fine, so maybe he shouldn’t be so damn proud about his sneakiness, but enough was enough. He had no idea why Claire believed that Dylan, the nicest guy on the planet, was a selfish asshole. Or why Dylan thought that Claire was a materialistic bitch, when these past few days had shown her to be the most easygoing, fun-loving woman Aidan had ever met.
Whatever the reason for their false perceptions, it was time for them to work out their issues.
“I can’t believe he locked us in here.” Claire sounded livid as she stared at the door, so intently it was like she was trying to use telekinesis to open the damn thing.
Dylan shook his head in anger, amazed that Aidan had resorted to such juvenile bullshit. He was so not in the mood for this, not after spending the past twelve hours crawling around in a forest on a mock hostage extraction with his team. All he’d wanted to do when he got home was pass the fuck out, but thanks to Aidan, he was wide awake and spitting mad.
“He’ll let us out in a few minutes, right?” Claire turned around with a desperate look. “He won’t really be gone for hours, will he?”
“Yes, he will,” Dylan said grimly. “Aidan doesn’t mess around.”
Her features creased with dismay. “This is so ridiculous. I can’t be trapped in here with you.”
Offense prickled his skin. He rubbed his tired eyes, then dragged a hand through his sleep-tousled hair and examined the room for anything he might be able to use to dismantle the doorknob. Then he realized it was absolutely futile, because no way would Aidan leave any escape devices lying around. And since they were on the fifteenth floor, going out through the bedroom’s small balcony was out.
That left two options—kick down the door and say goodbye to his mother’s Christmas present, which he’d taken painstaking effort to secure, or spend the next few hours locked in a room with Claire McKinley.
When he felt her knowing gaze on him, he shot her a scowl. “What?”
“You’re considering ruining Shanna’s present, aren’t you?” she accused. “The idea of being alone with me is that undesirable?”
“Don’t give me that wide-eyed indignation. You’re not thrilled to be here with me, either.”
“No, but I’d suck it up if it meant Shanna gets her angel.” Claire paused. “I actually bought her a small crystal one for her birthday.”
“You did?”
“Yeah, for her collection. She loves those angels.”
“Yeah, she really does.”
They both went quiet. After a beat, Dylan sighed and lowered his tired body onto the bed. As he stretched out on his back, he saw Claire watching him with suspicious brown eyes.
“What are you doing?”
“Getting comfortable,” he answered. “That angel was a bitch to get my hands on. I’m not going to destroy it just so I don’t have to spend a few hours with you.”