"Great. Well, I'd hate for something to be easy," Andy said, rolling his eyes. "Good night, guys."
We said good night, and he strode off to the station. I tugged on Jack's arm when he showed no sign of moving. "Hey! We need to go. I'm exhausted and freezing, and I have to work—"
"Shh," he murmured, patting my hand. He had a far-off look in his eyes, and I realized he was listening to someone or something in the distance. I stopped talking and listened as hard as I could, but heard nothing except for the sound of a car driving by, probably carrying some of the last of the town hall attendees.
I followed his line of sight and realized he was staring at the corner of the building.
"Stay here," he said urgently. "Or, better yet, go start the truck and get warm. I'll be right back."
With that, he dropped the keys in my hand and then raced off, running on the grass instead of the sidewalk.
Probably so whoever he was listening to didn't hear him coming.
I shoved his keys in my pocket, jumped onto the grass so I could run silently too, and started after him, shaking my head at his foolishness.
"'Go start the truck.'"
Please.
28
Jack
I took off running, hoping to get to the back of the building before Craven and whoever he'd been arguing with took off. I gave it a ninety-five percent chance Tess would ignore my request to go warm up the truck—and stay safe—and instead follow me.
Then I heard her footsteps. Make that one hundred percent.
I gritted my teeth and took half a second to consider turning around to escort her to the truck and lock her in it. Then I took another half-second to enjoy imagining the look of outrage on her face if I tried.
Tess's beautiful eyes darkened when she was annoyed and sparkled with icy blue fire when she'd gone past irritation to anger, and I was ridiculously helpless when she turned that outrage on me. It didn't help calm a situation when all I wanted to do was lift her into my arms and kiss the breath out of her.
I didn't think we were heading into danger. I'd heard Delvaney Craven reading the riot act to a person or persons who must work for him and UltraShopMart. Nothing about Craven worried me. He was a pompous suit.
Even when he'd been yelling at his minions, the dressing down had been so vague, dull, and filled with cliches that I hadn't paid much attention to it. Mainly, his whiny attempts to sound important had been pathetic:
"So hard to get good help these days."
"Do you like your job? I can fire you right now!"
"How can you screw up such a simple job so spectacularly?"
And so on and so forth.
But when I'd heard him mention something about the excavation site, I'd tuned into the argument more closely. Specifically, something about keeping trespassers out because of what they'd found in the pit when they'd prematurely pulled the trigger and begun to dig.
Thathad made me curious, and maybe even a tad concerned.
After all, this was Dead End.
That excavation could have turned up pirate treasure or dead bodies.
Silver or skulls.
Gold or ghouls.
Suddenly, I had a driving desire to discover exactly what they'd found in that pit. I raced to the corner and then slowed to a saunter as I rounded it in time to hear Craven shouting.
"I gave each of you discretion to choose how to protect the site. You all chose your own paths, stupid though some of them may have been. What I want to know ishowcould you get one thing—one thing—so wrong?"
