When I’m clear of the threshold, he shuts the door behind us. There’s a long beeeeeep and then the sound of locks clicking into place. The place is as silent as a tomb, and I can now smell the strong scent of iron coming off of him, probably from his workout or whatever he was doing before I came in through the door of this crazy place that I am now going to call the Hotel California. If he tells me I can check out any time I like, but I can never leave, I’m going to do something he seriously won’t like. I’m not sure what that thing would be exactly, but I’m sure I can come up with something.
“You have got to be kidding me,” I say, snorting my disbelief. “Not panic? Stay calm? Dude, you must be high.”
He lets go of my hand and walks over to a telephone that’s hanging on the wall. Without responding, he picks up the handset and presses a single button. He waits in silence, and I pass the time by listening to my heart beating in my ears. It’s going way too fast. I look around to see if they have any of those electric heart attack paddle units attached to the wall. I might need one of them soon.
This cannot be happening. This has to be some kind of joke, but I have no idea why my sister would work with a bunch of jerks who play pranks like this on people when they show up for their first day of work. That guy Ozzie must be seriously good in bed for her to put up with it. I knew I shouldn’t have backed out of my bathe-and-drink-wine plan. Stupid, stupid, stupid . . .
Dev puts the phone back on the hook and shakes his head, hissing out a sigh of frustration.
“What’s wrong?” I’m not even sure I want to hear his answer.
“I can’t get through upstairs. Maybe Lucky isn’t up there anymore.”
I reach into my back pocket and pull out my cell phone. “That’s it. I’m calling my sister. I’m not playing this game anymore. You guys can find yourself another freelancer to help you with your marine case or whatever it’s called.”
He sighs. “Your cell won’t work in here.”
I look up at him, suspicious. “Why not?”
“Because this is a panic room. The walls are three feet thick. No signals get in or out.” He tilts his head very slightly toward the phone on the wall, letting me know that this ancient piece of junk is our only mode of communication with the outside world.
Unfortunately, I’ve seen just about every bad-guy action movie there is, and I know for a fact that all you need to take down that piece-of-crap wall phone is a damn pair of scissors to cut the outside line. We’re doomed. Doomed!
I throw my hands up in frustration. “Well, that’s just dandy, isn’t it? What am I supposed to do now? Just sit here and wait for someone to come kill me?”
He doesn’t answer me. He just stares.
I look around the place to avoid catching his eye. It’s making my blood pressure go nutty to have him focusing on me like that. “You must be crazy if you think that I’m going to sit here in your little Hotel California panic room and relax while you guys play cops and robbers outside.”
“This isn’t a game, Jenny. This is serious. And until I know what’s going on out there, you’re not going anywhere.” His voice is softer. Mesmerizing, almost.
I put my hands on my hips, turning my attention back to him, giving him my full-on angry mom stare.
“I’ll have you know that I am very familiar with the laws of this state, and I know for a fact that you can’t keep me in here if I don’t want to be in here. That’s called false imprisonment, buddy, and I’m not going to stand for it.”
He raises what would be an eyebrow at me, except that he has no eyebrow there. It still works to express the challenge he’s throwing out at me, though. “Is that so?”
I stick my chin out. “Yes, that is so.”
He gestures at the door. “Go ahead, then. See yourself out.”
“Fine. I will.” Yes, I’m scared that I’m walking out into a bad situation, but not scared enough that I’m going to back down. I’ll show him who’s the boss of me. I can hide in a cubicle. No problem. My cell will work out there, and I’ll dial 911 and get the real cops over here, not these Bourbon Street Butthead wannabe cops.
I walk over to put my hand on the door, but there’s no knob there, just a keypad. I chew on my lip and stare at it. Do I remember the code he entered? No. I do not. Dammit.
I turn around. “You need to unlock the door for me.”
“Sorry, but I can’t do that.”
“What do you mean, you can’t do that?”
He shrugs. “We have protocols in place for these types of scenarios, and the protocol for alien entry with a civilian inside the warehouse requires that one of us secure the civilian and wait for contact from the outside before we open the door. And I was the lucky guy who happened to be standing with the civilian when the threat presented itself.” He smiles at me with that damn dimple.
“Protocols? Aliens?” I turn back around to face the door and smack it. Then I start pressing random buttons on the keypad. “Protocols, my big, fat butt. I have things to do and places to go, so your protocols need to step aside, Buckrod.”
“Your butt isn’t that fat.”
My hand freezes in mid-button-pressing. I slowly turn. “Are you kidding me?” He’s seriously going to talk about my butt now? He must want to die.
He shrugs. “A couple months with me, and I’ll have you sporting a six-pack under that blouse.”