Chapter Eighteen #3
“If you’re new into a relationship, it’d be too June Cleaver to line up toothbrushes. If you’re cheating and sneaking around and not used to sharing a bathroom, it’s a bold statement to line them up.”
A skeptical look crossed his features.
“You’re proving my point, Sawyer. No one does this.”
“Okay, say you’re right. What’s the point? It has nothing to do with whether or not Mylene killed—”
Loud, excited voices poured into the beach house.
“Shit,” he muttered. They inched out of the bathroom. The voices didn’t sound threatening, but he wouldn’t take a chance. Sawyer tucked Angela behind his back. He wasn’t armed, and she wasn’t wearing a Kevlar vest. Sweat broke out on the back of his neck. “Did you leave anything downstairs?”
Angela shook her head but caught herself. “My hat.”
What sounded like two kids and a shepherding adult boomed from the first floor. Bags were dropped. Kids squealed.
“Forget it.” They had to get out. The kids sounded like a herd of buffalo as they explored the beach house. “The back door is still unlocked—come on.”
“What’s upstairs?” one of the children called.
They stopped short. No-go on the back door. Sawyer took Angela’s hand and beelined for the bedroom balcony as little feet raced up the stairs. He threw open the sliding glass door and flung it closed just as he was certain the kids hit the top of the staircase.
A two-story beach house on stilts meant Angela and Sawyer were three floors up. Directly below, two women unloaded a minivan on a crushed-shell driveway. A concrete patio extended on both sides. Neither would make a pleasant landing zone.
The second-story deck was just off to the side, several feet away. Sawyer could make the jump. He wasn’t sure how Angela would fare.
“No way,” she said, reading his mind. “Absolutely not. I’m going to break my neck.”
“I’m open to suggestions, sweetheart.”
“Maybe we stay up here until they leave?” she half joked. “Or maybe they’ll head straight to the beach?”
The sliding glass door flew open. They froze against the side of the house.
“Whoa,” a kid squealed from inside the doorway. “We are so high up!”
“We’re not supposed to open doors!” a younger-sounding kid chided. “I’m telling.”
The sliding glass door slammed shut.
“Oh God. Okay,” Angela managed. “I’ll jump.”
“This will be easy, Ange.”
“Do not blow smoke up my ass.”
He couldn’t help but smile. “We crawl onto the other side of the rail. I’ll jump down. You lower yourself and then I’ll grab you and pull you over.”
“That simple, huh?”
“Then we stroll off the back deck while the moms bring in their stuff through the front door.”
This situation was a far cry from the most dangerous one he’d ever found himself in, but it might have been the most stressful. If he maneuvered to the second-floor deck and Angela lost her nerve, he’d have a hell of a time getting back to her without catching the eye of someone below.
“Do you trust me?” he asked.
“I don’t have a choice.”
“That is a bullshit answer, Angela, and this won’t work if you don’t trust me.”
“Of course I trust you. Go on. Be Spider-Man.”
“Atta girl.” Then he didn’t give her a chance to back out. Sawyer jumped to the lower deck. His landing was smooth, albeit louder than he liked as the entire house groaned. The women below him stopped speaking for an eternally lengthy moment before their cheerful banter rebounded.
Another century-long moment passed before Angela peeked her head out from her hiding spot on the top balcony.
Sawyer nodded. “It’s go time.”
Whether she heard him or not, she hooked her leg over the railing.
Her flip-flop dangled precariously over the edge.
She maneuvered onto the rail but pulled back entirely.
The dangling flip-flop disappeared, and his heart stopped.
But he waited, not letting a shred of doubt jinx her determination to get off that balcony.
“Come on, come on, come on,” he whispered. “I know you can do this.”
Then, two flip-flops landed next to him, followed by her beach bag. No one below noticed the raining accessories. Sawyer took a breath and grinned.
Angela hooked one leg and the other over the edge and pulled herself over the rail.
She squatted, twisted, and crouched until she apparently trusted the deck railing to hold her weight.
Carefully, Angela lowered herself until she dangled.
Sawyer snaked his arm around her knees before she had a moment to panic and lowered her bottom onto his shoulder.
They weren’t graceful, but they were efficient.
He placed her bare feet on the deck and hauled her against the wall.
She picked up her flip-flops and bag. “That was an adventure.”
He had a feeling they were just getting started. “Never a dull day on the job.”
The kids ran outside and scurried around the driveway.
“No one is inside.” She nudged him. “Get my hat.”
Not a bad idea. They were by the door with the lock he’d picked initially—although he was surprised she didn’t want to haul ass home. “Give me a sec.”
Hell, by now, if the renters caught them on the deck, they could feign embarrassment and pretend they’d wandered to the wrong cookie-cutter-style beach house.
He braved a quick visit inside, grabbed Angela’s hat, and, with his hand at the small of her back, guided their escape back to the beach as though they were a beach-faring couple out for a stroll.
Adrenaline-fueled laughter overcame Angela by the time they neared the sand that was still damp from a receded high tide. “That was insane.”
He grabbed her hand and walked toward the waves. “It was something.” What exactly? He didn’t know. Certainly not on his top one thousand list of close calls. Still, his heart hammered in his chest. He wasn’t ready to let her go.
Angela scooted in front of him, walking backward, with a smile that reached from ear to ear. “And you saved my hat.”
Sawyer tugged her back to his side. “All in a day’s work.”
They reached the water, and she danced over a retreating wave. “This is such a buzz.”
He laughed.
“Seriously, Sawyer. I feel like I’m high right now.”
He kept laughing and shook his head. “Have you ever done drugs?”
“Nope.” She held onto her hat but tipped her head back for a moment.
“But this has to be the feeling people chase after. Because, oh my God. I feel like I could fly.” She tossed her bag and flip-flops out of the reach of the waves.
“Get in the water with me.” She untied the cover-up from her hip and flung the garment onto the sand; then she threw her hat like a Frisbee into the vicinity of her discarded clothes.
Angela headed toward the water, casting another big and beautiful smile over her shoulder. “Don’t be a scaredy cat, Spider-Man. Come on.”