CHAPTER THREE
Dev’s hand slides from my arm down to my hand as he drags me through the warehouse to our destination—a destination I do not yet know. I’m trying not to have all these silly, girly reactions to holding hands with this strange man, but it’s impossible. I can’t remember the last time I felt a man’s fingers wrapped around mine. I can say I’ve never felt anything quite like this before; his hands are huuuuge. This must be what Sammy feels like when he holds his father’s hand. Of course, Sammy is three and I’m thirty-two, and I should be over stupid things like this. Ridiculous, the things that will flow through a person’s head when she feels like she’s running for her life.
“Am I in danger?” Dev doesn’t answer me, so I continue, my sneakers squeaking in fast rhythm as I nearly run to keep up with him. It’s a good thing I’m not wearing corduroy right now or I’d be setting my thighs on fire with all the friction I’m kicking up. “Because I didn’t sign up for any danger when I told my sister I would come here and help. I’m not into danger like you guys are. I’m into warm baths and wine and quiet. Quietude. I like quietude. I’m no commando. I always wear underpants.” Apparently, when I panic, I overshare. It’s weird, learning new things about yourself when you’re over thirty.
My pleas are falling on deaf ears. Dev says nothing as we rush past a set of cubicles.
“Is this where I’m supposed to work?” I look over my shoulder, the comfortable-looking chairs and cubicles disappearing in the distance. I complained before about coding, but I won’t complain anymore. Just let me code! I don’t want to run from strange sounds!
“Later,” he says.
Another boom echoes out behind us, this time fainter because we’re farther away. I pick up the pace, no longer interested in those damn cubicles. Screw coding . . . get me outta here. He better be bringing me to a back door.
“Is somebody trying to get into the warehouse?” I ask, fearing the obvious.
“Could be.” We reach a hallway and he turns right and then takes another quick left.
“Where are we going?” I’m whining now. I can’t help it. I’m so going to kill my sister when I see her again. Forget nipple twists. Those are for minor transgressions; I’m going to put her in a figure-four and make her beg for mercy.
“You’ll see.”
He stops at a door that has a keypad on the outside of it. He jabs in a code, and the click of a lock releasing follows.
Pushing the door open with his shoulder, he takes me by the elbow and drags me in behind him. A dim overhead light illuminates the small closet-sized space we’re now standing in. I am so not impressed with this rescue plan. There are mops hanging on the wall, for God’s sake.
I crane my neck back to look up at him. “You’re seriously hiding me in a broom closet?”
Dev doesn’t answer me. Instead, he reaches over and starts pressing buttons on a keypad hidden behind one of the mops on the wall. As he enters another code, the keypad lights up, displaying both the numbers and a black screen below it. This device looks a lot more sophisticated than the one on the outside of this closet, which should make me feel more secure, but instead it makes me more worried. Exactly how much trouble am I in right now?
Dev finishes with the code and puts his first three fingers on the screen below. The click that I hear when he’s done is much more substantial this time, leading me to believe it’s a more secure place that we’ll be entering; which is awesome, because this closet we’re in now is only good for protecting janitorial supplies. A portion of the wall housing a shelving unit separates from the back side of the space and swings inward.
Whoa. Super-secret hideaway bat cave. I’m not sure if I should be impressed or worried that I’m about to enter it.
Dev steps inside and turns on a light. I can’t see all of what’s behind him, but what I can see is enough to make me scared all over again.
“What the hell is that?” I’m pointing to a space that has not just chairs and tables, but a bank of computers and a row of bunk beds. There’s enough room for at least ten people in there.
He reaches down and takes my hand again, pulling me through the door. “This is a panic room. But you’re not supposed to panic when you’re in here, because you’re safe. Stay calm.”