you from the hit men.”
“I saved myself,” she said.
They were back at the house and she started up the front steps, like it was a regular night and there weren’t two guys out there trying to kill her.
Jack shook his head, swiping her behind him with one arm and cat-footing it up the flower-lined front walk, just in case. “If you’d let me do it my way,” he grumbled at her, “we wouldn’t have to worry about them being on our tail right now.”
She didn’t have a comeback for that, but then, what could she say except, “You’re right, Jack,” and she wasn’t about to admit that.
They snuck through the open front door, Aubrey making a noise and shooting him a look when she saw the scorch marks on the floor. She pushed by him, Jack staying where he was as she went into the kitchen and shut and locked the back door. If the bad guys had been in the house, they’d have been dead as soon as they set foot inside.
“Car keys?” he asked when she came back.
She unzipped one of the hundred little zipper compartments in her backpack and pulled them out, catching the look on his face. “You didn’t think I was going to leave my house wide open?”
Jack shook his head and gestured that he’d follow her, thinking, Yeah, stupid me, I thought you were more worried about escape than a bunch of stupid books.
Just like he’d made the mistake of thinking she was more worried about saving her own life than her house. Even when she’d shown that sudden concern for his safety, it had never occurred to him that she was dragging him up the stairs before he had time to figure out that there wasn’t enough gas in the pipes to blow up her house. Just enough to fool him. And he’d fallen for it. “I thought I had everything under control,” he muttered, more to himself than her.
“Didn’t sound like it,” she said. “It sounded like we were the only ones in danger. I told you I could take care of myself. If I hadn’t had those granola bars in my backpack—”
“Your neon-pink backpack—”
“Without which you’d be dog meat right now.”
“Without which,” he said, talking right over her because she never shut up, “we’d have given them the slip a helluva lot sooner.”
“Not by going from my house straight out to the street.”
“Which wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t sabotaged my plan.”
“We’re safe, aren’t we?”
“Through sheer, dumb luck,” Jack pointed out. “Dumb being the operative word.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you lack people skills?”
“I’ll tell you what, the next time Laurel and Uncle Danny catch up to us—and with you in charge they will—you trot out your people skills and see how long you can keep them from killing you.”
She crossed her arms, but Jack turned his back on her before she could unleash the librarian look on him. “You got lucky with the dogs,” he said, heading for the unattached garage. “Not to mention the old guy with the shotgun. Otherwise we’d be dead right now because you did everything but stand out on your front porch with that glow-in-the-dark bull’s-eye hanging on your back.”
“I park on the street,” she said, her voice trailing behind him as he changed directions, “and it wasn’t luck, it was preparation. And it wasn’t like you were doing anything about it. Unless you count squashing me and the granola bars between you and the fence so that I barely got to them in time.”
“I’d’ve thought of something.”
“Experience versus book learning?”
“How is a granola bar book learning?”
“Boy Scout motto. Always be prepared. I read it somewhere.”
He could hear the smile in her voice, knew she was only giving him a hard time, feeling the camaraderie of the situation—which pissed him off more. “You put down my skills and experience, second-guess every decision I make, and undermine my attempts to get us some breathing room so we can have time to think and plan instead of
“I saved myself,” she said.
They were back at the house and she started up the front steps, like it was a regular night and there weren’t two guys out there trying to kill her.
Jack shook his head, swiping her behind him with one arm and cat-footing it up the flower-lined front walk, just in case. “If you’d let me do it my way,” he grumbled at her, “we wouldn’t have to worry about them being on our tail right now.”
She didn’t have a comeback for that, but then, what could she say except, “You’re right, Jack,” and she wasn’t about to admit that.
They snuck through the open front door, Aubrey making a noise and shooting him a look when she saw the scorch marks on the floor. She pushed by him, Jack staying where he was as she went into the kitchen and shut and locked the back door. If the bad guys had been in the house, they’d have been dead as soon as they set foot inside.
“Car keys?” he asked when she came back.
She unzipped one of the hundred little zipper compartments in her backpack and pulled them out, catching the look on his face. “You didn’t think I was going to leave my house wide open?”
Jack shook his head and gestured that he’d follow her, thinking, Yeah, stupid me, I thought you were more worried about escape than a bunch of stupid books.
Just like he’d made the mistake of thinking she was more worried about saving her own life than her house. Even when she’d shown that sudden concern for his safety, it had never occurred to him that she was dragging him up the stairs before he had time to figure out that there wasn’t enough gas in the pipes to blow up her house. Just enough to fool him. And he’d fallen for it. “I thought I had everything under control,” he muttered, more to himself than her.
“Didn’t sound like it,” she said. “It sounded like we were the only ones in danger. I told you I could take care of myself. If I hadn’t had those granola bars in my backpack—”
“Your neon-pink backpack—”
“Without which you’d be dog meat right now.”
“Without which,” he said, talking right over her because she never shut up, “we’d have given them the slip a helluva lot sooner.”
“Not by going from my house straight out to the street.”
“Which wouldn’t have been a problem if you hadn’t sabotaged my plan.”
“We’re safe, aren’t we?”
“Through sheer, dumb luck,” Jack pointed out. “Dumb being the operative word.”
“Did anyone ever tell you you lack people skills?”
“I’ll tell you what, the next time Laurel and Uncle Danny catch up to us—and with you in charge they will—you trot out your people skills and see how long you can keep them from killing you.”
She crossed her arms, but Jack turned his back on her before she could unleash the librarian look on him. “You got lucky with the dogs,” he said, heading for the unattached garage. “Not to mention the old guy with the shotgun. Otherwise we’d be dead right now because you did everything but stand out on your front porch with that glow-in-the-dark bull’s-eye hanging on your back.”
“I park on the street,” she said, her voice trailing behind him as he changed directions, “and it wasn’t luck, it was preparation. And it wasn’t like you were doing anything about it. Unless you count squashing me and the granola bars between you and the fence so that I barely got to them in time.”
“I’d’ve thought of something.”
“Experience versus book learning?”
“How is a granola bar book learning?”
“Boy Scout motto. Always be prepared. I read it somewhere.”
He could hear the smile in her voice, knew she was only giving him a hard time, feeling the camaraderie of the situation—which pissed him off more. “You put down my skills and experience, second-guess every decision I make, and undermine my attempts to get us some breathing room so we can have time to think and plan instead of
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