Heathens & Hand Grenades (Book 1 of the Heathens Duet)

Chapter 25- Callie

The shower helped as much as anything. That and the sage body wash. Instantaneous relaxation in a bottle. No clue who it belongs to, but when I figure it out I want to sink into the biggest possible bear hug from them. I bet they give insanely good hugs, just a gut feeling I have. Yup, that is the train of thought I want to stay on. Big aromatherapy bear hugs. Not even thinking about cinnamon kisses. Definitely not.

God, I am a terrible liar.

And now my train has completely derailed. Great. My raggedy steam engine train has been boarded by four - nope, three, definitely only three hunks that refuse to leave my brain and have body humming underneath the weight of their gazes. I have never missed my battery-operated boyfriend this much in my life. Clearly, I am going through withdrawals. It's the only explanation for this lust fog I'm trapped in.

Either way I don't foresee Cupid still wanting to cuddle after the way we left things. Back to solitaire it is, I guess.

Never imagined I would miss Rave's guitar playing. It helped to ease some of the boredom and made this feel more like a home than a tomb. Really, I like Rave, as long as I don't have to look at his smarmy face or hear him open his mouth. Maybe he could stand there and just look pretty like some kind of Italian Renaissance statue.

Yeah, I don't see him doing that. He the type of guy who lives off of spite; that's why his muscles are so big. I'm curious about how long it usually takes for one's inner thoughts to start taking on accents and personalities. Pretty sure that means I'm losing it. Which is fine by me, since I'm not quite sure I ever had it to begin with. It would explain pretty much all of my life's decisions up to this point.

The cards settle my rambling mind. Queen, jack, ten. Five, four, three. I need a seven of either diamonds or hearts. Simple thoughts. Keep the train on the tracks, Callie.

My eyes wander around the living room, not that anything has changed. The shag carpet is still shaggy, but soft beneath my feet. The most misguided attempt at a landscape I've ever seen decorates the far wall. It looks haunted. In fact, staring at it too long gives me the oogiees. The door still has the same blinking green light.

Red.

It should be red. It's been red since I got here. It was red when Rave left. Of that I am absolutely certain. God doesn't strike me as the kind of man to miss details and leave the door unlocked.

It's a trap.

The bunker is quiet. Without the steady strings of Rave's guitar, too quiet. Cupid is in his room and I haven't seen Pretty Boy since earlier. The other two are gone, but for who knows how long. At any moment they could burst through that door and then what? I doubt they'll forget to lock the door twice.

I can hear Aunt Rachel now, telling me to seize the opportunities the universe hands out. This is about as gift wrapped an opportunity as it's ever presented.

I don't even bother looking for my shoes. They've been missing in action since Pretty Boy took them off my hands. There hasn't been a real need for them down here, so I didn't even think to ask about them. They can keep the uniform. I would probably have burned it when I got out of here anyway.

For as old as the rest of the place is, the door is relatively quiet as it opens, just a small beep. I wait a breath, sending up a silent prayer that there's no sensor or alert before I take off down the tunnels.

Paying better attention the first time down here might have helped, but I allow myself a sliver of grace. Pretty Boy wasn't exactly walking slow and I was still frazzled. Not ideal conditions for perfect memory making. Guess Sheriff Barnes was right about one thing.