Page 77 of Knot That Difficult

We’re in a nice area, and it’s perfectly safe for me to do so. I’ve done it before.

The other option is to park in the creepy parking garage.

It’s not even that big of a deal—but it’s dark down there. The gate is loud and old, and I justhateit.

The obvious choice would be to park on the street and just walk, but there’s a small problem.

I’ve been cramping like crazy.

My panties are damp with slick, my painkillers have worn off, and the only thing I want to do is get into my apartment and hop in the shower.

My pre-Heat symptoms are on full display, and the last thing I want to do is walk more than I need to.

I’m exhausted.

A shower and an early bedtime sound amazing right now.

Usually, I like to stay up and wait for Ben to come home, but he’s out with River and isn’t sure when he’ll come back.

Tonight, they’re working on an investigation with another city that’s three hours away.

Another Ocase.

I shudder to think about it. April and Skylar were kidnapped and used to make that drug, and any mention of it heightens my anxiety.

I’m glad the nearest case involving it is three hours away from here, but it just sucks that Ben won’t be home for a while.

Exhausted from the day and tired of dealing with my cramps, I make the decision to enter the parking garage.

I make a face as I click the gate open with the remote I keep in my glove compartment. The iron slowly lifts, stuttering and making an obnoxious grating sound while I drive down the slope into the dark abyss.

“Oh, god,” I groan as I enter the dimly lit space.

There are a few cars down here, but the garage is mostly empty.

The gate shuts behind me, and I park as close as I can to the white door that opens to the stairwell.

I hurry out of my car, but when I try the key to the door, the lock doesn’t move.

I try every key I have.

Nothing happens. The knob seems jammed—I can’t even turn it.

“Okay,” I breathe. “This is fine. This isfine.”

I grab the remote from my car and try to open the gate, but nothing happens.

I’mtrappedin here.

The air is stale and musty, and the longer I stay, the harsher my cramps become.

I bang on the door to the stairwell, slamming my palms against it and yelling for help.

My stomach flips, and I end up slumped against my car, whimpering in pain.

I need to get out of here.

I call the leasing office, but it’s after hours, so no one answers.

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