by Lucy Smoke
"Are you okay with that?" he demanded.
Not completely, but I knew if I told him that, he'd take it and run with it. Grayson was just one of those people—give him an inch, and he would take a mile and never look back.
"It's half past midnight," I argued.
"I have coffee," he said.
"I don't like coffee."
"Yes, and we will discuss that impracticality at a later date. Look, Harlow—I need to do something, and I have an idea, but I need back up. Please." After a brief pause, he sighed. "If you don't want coffee, I can stop and get you hot chocolate or something. What about one of those Frappuccino things from Starbucks?"
"Starbucks isn't open," I pointed out.
"Then I'll get you something when it does open," he said. "Are you in or out?"
My head thunked back against the wall behind the low headboard of my twin sized bed. "You're gonna go whether I go with you or not, aren't you?"
"Without a doubt," he said, "but at least I asked you first."
"I'm going to tell the guys, you know that, right?"
"They're probably all sleeping and I'm leaving in less than five minutes. So, if you want to figure out where Erika is, my car is parked out front. I'll be waiting until the twenty 'til mark."
"Fuck!" I hissed, throwing off the covers. "Fine. I'm on my way."
"See you soon, Babydoll." I hung up and dove off the bed for a pair of pants. I slid into dark yoga tights, grabbed a dark tank top, and laced up my sneakers in just under the time limit Grayson had given me. Lizzie grumbled as I shut the door behind me and sprinted down the hallway with just my phone and my keys in hand.
Outside, at the curb, an older, dark sedan waited for me. I slid inside and turned to Grayson. "Nice choice of sleuthing-wear," he said, taking a look down at my attire. I glanced down at the same time and noticed that he, too, was wearing dark colors.
"All the better to break the law with," I said with a smirk. "That is what we're doing, right? It's the reason why you called me, because you know none of the others would think twice about stopping you from doing something this stupid. So, tell me, what idiotic thing are we doing tonight?"
"Just a little breaking and entering," he answered, putting his hand on the wheel and pulling away.
"If we go to jail," I said, pulling my messages up on my phone and clicking on one of the guys. "I doubt any of them will bail you out." Texas would be the least angry, but they all needed to know what was happening and I had warned Grayson I would tell them, so I typed in all their names—Knix, Bellamy, Marv, and Texas—before wording a text to tell them about what Grayson was doing. My fingers hovered over the screen. "But for the sake of need to know—because I need to know—where exactly are we breaking and entering?"
Grayson shot me a quick smirk that didn't reach his eyes. "Greenwood Rehab."
I blinked. "Of course."
Harlow: Grayson called me. He's going to B&E Greenwood. Going with him.
Just before I pressed send, Grayson turned sharply, and the phone tumbled out of my hand, sliding down into the crevice between the console and the seat. I glared at him, but he kept his gaze trained forward.
"You did that on purpose," I snapped.
"I don't know what you're talking about." The smirk remained.
"Asshole," I said, digging down into the tiny space available, searching blindly for the phone.
"You might have to wait until we get there to get it," he said helpfully.
"I told you I was going to tell them!"
"Yeah, well, you can't blame me for wanting to keep them in the dark as long as possible. Can't have them stopping us before we get started."
"What are you hoping to find at Greenwood?" I demanded. "Do you really think they'd be stupid enough to hide evidence there?"
Grayson flicked a look at me. "Of course they have evidence there," he said as if it was obvious. "Everyone knows that the best place to hide evidence is in plain sight."
I shook my head. "You're crazy."
He shrugged. "It's true, besides—I thought you wanted to find Erika."
"I do!" I gritted my teeth, glaring at him. The next time he took a corner a little too sharply, my shoulder slammed into the door and I realized I hadn't buckled in. I reached for the seatbelt and snapped it in place before returning my glare to his face. "I do want to find Erika," I repeated. "But I also don't want to put her in any more danger. What do you think would happen if they caught us looking for her in Greenwood Rehab? I know they won't have her there. So, why would I want to go looking?"
"How do you know?" Grayson asked.
"What?" I blinked, confused.
"How do you know they won't be holding your friend at Greenwood?"
"Well, I...It would be just...stupid to hide someone there, wouldn't it?"
Grayson shrugged. "You tell me," he said. "Is it? Where else would they take her?"
I thought about it for a moment. "No, she can't be there." But I wasn't so sure.
"It can't hurt to try, though. It's better than doing nothing."
I turned my head to look at him. The street lights filtered into the dark interior of the car, flashing across his face every few seconds before his expression was, once again, shrouded by shadows. I bit my lip, wondering if he was right. If I was being honest, yeah, I wasn't completely, 100% comfortable with how the job was progressing. Other than finally finding Josh—which had been all Texas and Grayson—it felt like nothing we had done so far was good. Especially me. I hadn't done anything to contribute.
"Are you still going to tell them?" Grayson asked after a while.
I nodded. "Yeah, but it can wait until we're already there." That answer seemed to appease him and when we finally pulled into the parking lot of the Greenwood Rehabilitation Facility, Grayson appeared far more stable when I finally dug my phone out and sent the text message.
"Leave your phone in the car," he said.
I shook my head. "They'll worry."
Grayson's piercing blue eyes met my gaze. "Babydoll," he said, "I know they are going to worry, but you've informed them of our plan and if you go inside with that phone, they'll be calling and texting nonstop."
"I haven't exactly informed them of anything," I protested, "since you haven't told me what the plan is."
Dipping over to my side of the car, Grayson popped the glove compartment open and retrieved a small pouch. "I did tell you," he said. "We're breaking and entering. Now, leave the phone and let's go."
I groaned as Grayson got out of the car and headed towards the building. He had managed to park behind a large tree on the border of the parking lot. Once we left, it would be empty and appear as though someone had simply left the vehicle to sit there overnight, but there was still a lot of open space from the car to the building. I got out and hurried after him.
His legs ate the distance up much quicker than mine, but both of us got to the side of the building without much fanfare. Once we did, we slid around towards what Grayson said was the employee's entrance and exit. Crouching down on the ground, he opened the pouch and retrieved two slender looking metal tools. One of them had a curved, dipping edge while the other was straighter, narrower.
"Keep a lookout," he whispered. I did, but within a few minutes, Grayson was smirking in victory as he turned the knob and swung the door inward to a long, dark hallway. "Ladies first," he said, gesturing.
I pursed my lips and arched a brow.
"Since when do you treat me like a lady?" I asked, taking a step inside.
"I always treat you like a lady," he argued.
"Name one time."
"I—" His voice cut off as we hit the end of the hallway and noticed a light towards one side. Sharp eyes cut to me in the darkness. I couldn't see his face as clearly as I would have liked, but I understood what he meant when he put a hand on my shoulder and then moved around in front of me. He wanted me to hang back.
Waiting in the dark, alone, was the worst. It reminded me of old, scary mo
vies, where young women in black and white would head directly towards a door—usually leading into a basement or attic or somewhere equally creepy—as those watching urged them to turn around and run away. I stuck close to the wall, though, and kept my gaze trained on Grayson's movements as he edged away from me, towards the light. Once he reached the end of the corridor, he flipped his head back and motioned for me to come to him. Quietly, I eased forward.
The closer I got to the light, the better I felt. There was no sound coming from the direction of the light, and Grayson slowly peeked his head around the corner. When he released a heavy breath, relief flooded me. Grayson stepped away from the wall and took my hand, pulling me along with him.
"Come on," he whispered. "This way."
"You know where you're going?" I asked, keeping my voice low.
He nodded once and tugged me after him. We passed a hallway with the lights on, which—when I managed to catch a glimpse—was simply a short little path into what looked to be a lobby. Someone must have accidentally left it on. Grayson pulled me back into the dark. We moved further and further into the building, finding a staircase that appeared to be yet another ‘employee only entrance’ to the second floor of offices. Weren't people sleeping here? I wondered. Living here? Weren't there supposed to be nurses on duty?
Almost as soon as I had that thought, a feminine voice called out and another answered. Grayson froze for a split second before yanking me after him into a small room. I turned around as he eased the door shut behind us. We appeared to be in a break room. A cheap wooden table was littered with sugar packets and brochures for the area. The Railroad Historical Center, the local museum, and two parks. Fascinating, I thought dryly.
I spun to face Grayson as he remained by the door, listening. "We're not going to find anything here," I hissed.
He shook his head and put a finger to his lips. I frowned and moved closer, right up alongside him, pressing my ear to the door as well. I waited for several moments, but no sound came, and I pushed away, sighing loudly. He shot me an irritated look that I ignored. What exactly did he mean by dragging me here in the middle of the night? How would this help find Erika? I paced back and forth across the tile as I waited for him to determine if it was alright to leave.
After several minutes of pacing and complete and utter silence, he gently pried the door open again and looked out into the hall. Looking back, he gestured for me to follow. "Let's go," he said.
I followed him out the door and back up the hall—away from the muted voices I could still hear. We found yet another staircase and took it up to the third floor. This floor, I realized must be where they stored stuff and kept smaller offices for the employees. There were several doors on either side of the hallway—all of them closed. At the end of the long corridor, there was a meeting room. I stopped as soon as we entered, turning to glare at Grayson for wasting my time, but he was already focused on a door to the side of the meeting room. It opened into a much larger office.
"Whose office is this?" I wondered aloud, stopping in the doorway as Grayson headed for the desk.
"The facility manager's probably," he said quietly as he began opening drawers and digging through them.
"What are you looking for?" I asked.
He shook his head as he rifled through papers and files. "I don't know—evidence, maybe—I'll know it when I see it."
I looked around the room, noting the dull, worn carpet and the drab drapes that hung by the window facing out to the front of the building. I moved towards the window, but before I could reach it something sparked my interest. I paused by a tall, floor to ceiling bookcase. No, I thought to myself. There wouldn't be anything here. It was too easy, too plain. Like a Scooby-Doo episode or something.
Still, I found myself running my hand along the wooden shelves. Just as I suspected, though, there weren't any hidden switches or secret passageways. But there was a case wedged between two larger volumes—some old encyclopedias. I wedged my finger between the top of the black, hard plastic case and wiggled it, trying to free the case from its hiding spot. I winced when I tried to pull my finger out and found it stuck. I pulled again, and something dug into one of the tiny finger-joints. After several minutes of wiggling, I started to panic.
"Grayson!" I hissed. "Grayson, help me!"
His head jerked up and he stepped away from the desk towards me. I regretted calling for him immediately. Almost as if in slow motion—the stack of papers and books on the edge of the desk went tumbling over the side. My eyes widened and both of us froze at the ricocheting sound of the books landing on the carpet and spilling across the floor alongside the desk. The sound echoed throughout the room and our eyes went directly to the door of both the office and the meeting room. Even with my finger throbbing and my heartbeat pounding in my chest, I tried to strain my ears.
There was no way anyone would be close enough to hear that...right? We wouldn't be that unlucky, would we? A door closed—the noise much closer than either of us would have liked because as soon as the sound occurred, Grayson jumped into action. Leaving the papers and books on the floor, he hurried over to me.
"My finger is stuck!" I whisper-hissed. Fear pulsed through my veins. What would happen if we got caught? Would they throw us out? Call the cops? Would we go to jail? Or worse? What if they knew exactly why we were there?
"Hold on," Grayson whispered back, grabbing my jammed hand and wiggling.
I hissed at the sting of the friction. Whoever had put the case here among the books had certainly not made it easy to get out again. Grayson looked at me apologetically—his lips twisted into a frown and his brows pinched—right before he yanked at my finger hard. A startled yelp left me just as his other hand closed over my mouth. Our eyes found the open doorway again as the hallway light turned on.
Grayson grabbed me and half lifted, half carried me to a closet door across the room. Opening the door, he shoved me in first before squeezing in next to me and shutting it firmly as footsteps echoed in the meeting room next door.
"Hello?" a quiet, shaky, female voice called out. "Anyone here?"
I held my breath and closed my eyes. Don't open the door. Don't open the door. Don't open the door. I chanted the mantra in my head, hoping against hope that whoever was on the other side of the closet door would just see the books and paper on the floor and assume it had been placed precariously on the desk and fallen over on its own.
I was so focused on not getting caught, that I didn't realize Grayson had reached for my hand in the dark until his fingers twined with my own. I lifted my chin, trying to make him out in the pitch-black space. I was mere inches away from his face and I couldn't see a damn thing. All I could do was feel. We were so close, I could feel the warmth of his breath on my cheeks. A shiver shot down my spine as his other hand wrapped around my hip, his fingers digging into the skin that had been revealed as my shirt slid up.
I opened my mouth...to do what, I didn't know. I wasn't sure if I wanted to tell him to let go or what, but there was a noise just outside the door and instead of pulling away, I snuggled closer, pressing my lips against the fabric over his chest to stifle any sound. There was the low tone of someone cursing and papers being collected. An audible thunk of several books being placed back on the desk made me jump in Grayson's arms. I looked up, my lips brushing his chin. We both stilled.
I held my breath until the sound of the office door closing and footsteps leading away from the room disappeared entirely. Only then did I manage to take my first full breath in what felt like hours. Gasping against Grayson's chest, I reached up and clutched the fabric of his shirt in my fists.
"That was close," I said. When he didn't respond, I tilted my head back. "Grayson?"
"Yeah."
"Are you okay?" I asked. He sounded tense. I could understand being tense in the moment, but he sounded like he was in pain.
"I'm fine." Grayson's palms slid up my sides and found my shoulders.
"Are you sure?" I pressed.
>
He nodded, his cheek scraping against my temple. "Yeah," he repeated. "But we should probably stay put for a few more minutes—make sure they don't come back."
"Okay..." I trailed off. And there we were, stuck in a closet in a rehab center that we had broken into. I was pressed as close to him as I could possibly have been and—oh! My eyes widened when I realized why he sounded like he was in pain.
I glanced up at him sharply, my cheeks burning red. "Uhhhh."
"It'll go away," he said tightly.
"Um...why is it even...I mean what..."
"It's you," he snapped, "you're just really close and you just—shit—" He cut himself off and if I didn't know any better—and if maybe I could have seen better—I could have sworn that, Grayson Caruso, was blushing. "You smell and feel really good," he ended with a mumble.
I snorted.
"Oh, yeah, go ahead, laugh it up," he said.
I snorted again. "I'm sorry," I said. "But this is too funny." I tried to angle my hips away and he groaned.
"Don't. Move," he urged. "You'll just make it worse."
"Well, since I have you trapped in here with me," I started.
He shook his head, his chin sliding across the top of my head. "No. No talking."
"Oh, I promise this will get rid of your little problem," I said.
"And I promise you," he snapped. "It is in no way, shape, or form...little."
I snorted for a third time. "I want to talk about you and Marv."
He groaned again. "As much as I hate to admit it, you're right, that would make the problem a lot smaller. So, talk away, but I'm not answering you."
"I just want to know, and Marv won't tell me. Why do you hate each other?"
"I don't hate him, Harlow."
"You said you weren't going to answer me," I replied smugly. There was a thunk slightly up and back as Grayson leaned back and bumped his head into the wall. When there was no whine of complaint or further movement, I figured he did it on purpose and rolled my eyes.
"Come on," I pressed forward. "Give me answers. What happened between the two of you? Was it true? You being in Iris?" I clarified.
