Page 52 of Savage Hearts
“Then by definition, it’s not safe!”
Spider is doing that lip-biting thing again. I know he’s thinking that’s exactly something my sister would say and send him a look that conveys in no uncertain terms that the wee rabid badger is about to give him a smack.
He holds up his hands in surrender. “I didn’t say a word.”
“Smart man.”
“Wait here a moment, lass. We’ll be right back.”
“Can you bring me a sandwich when you come back? I’m dying of hunger. I haven’t had a proper meal since we met. I’ve been living on the candy I brought with me.”
Kieran is scandalized by that nugget of information. He turns to Spider, aghast. “Are ye tryin’ to starve the poorcailín?”
“Yeah, Spider. Are you trying to starve me?”
He ignores us both and heads inside, shaking his head.
Kieran watches him go, tutting. “Don’t worry, lass. I’ll get ye fixed up as soon as we’re done sweepin’ the place.”
“Thank you, Kieran. I knew I liked you from the get-go.”
He puffs out his big chest and proudly lifts his chin. “I’ve been told I’m very likable.”
Then he struts off after Spider, leaving me wondering if it was Sloane who told him that.
With the way my luck is running lately, it’s probable.
Spider returns in about five minutes, just as I’m about to sit down on the floor. “All clear. In you go.”
“Will you give me a tour?”
He looks surprised. “Aye, if you like.”
“It’s just that I’ve never been inside a mafia safe house before. Hey, is there cash hidden inside the walls? Gold bars? Drugs?”
He snorts. “No.”
I’m oddly disappointed by that.
I follow him inside the place, looking around in curiosity. It’s like a regular home inside, only with a lot more bedrooms and no windows.
One other thing I don’t see is an exit. “Is that garage the only way in?”
Showing me around the bedroom that will be mine, he says, “There’s a tunnel we can use in an emergency. It runs underneath this block and ends on the other side of the industrial park.” He turns to look at me. “Why? You gonna threaten to run away again?”
“I’m not running anywhere. I just feel a little claustrophobic not being able to see outside.”
“You get used to it after a few weeks.”
Hearing that, I start to panic. “Weeks?Hold on a minute—are you telling me I’ll be stuck in this underground bunker for that long?”
He says gently, “It’s not up to me how long you’ll be here, lass.”
“That’s not what I asked!”
“The priority is your safety, whether it takes a few days or a few weeks.”
“It?”
