Page 96 of Saving the Last Heir
“Who knows,” the other responded.
There was a strange clicking sound, followed by the faintest flash of light. A moment later the bittersweet reek of cigar smoke assaulted my nostrils.
“It’s only halftime,” the first man said. “We can still come back.”
“It’s game seven and the Rockets are down by twenty, Shawn,” the second man said, a hint of derision in his voice. “This is not going to be our year. We aren’t going to the finals, muchlesswinning the championship.”
The first man sighed in disappointment. “Well, I’m still holding out for a miracle. I can’t stomach the thought of the Spurs being in the finals again. Fucking basketball, man, why’s it always stress me out?”
“Probably because you’re both a fanandyou bet on the damn games. You’ve got to get money out of it. Just enjoy the ride like I do.”
“And how would I afford to buy your sister all that crotchless lingerie?”
“Ew! Fucking gross, man. Don’t say shit like that. Makes me wanna puke. And you know she’d never date your ass.”
“Oh! Right!” the first man said with a laugh. “I didn’t mean your sister. I meant your mom.”
“You’re a child, you know that?” the second added, his voice tired.
The two men stood directly outside the door to the shed, passing the cigar back and forth for several minutes, while I sat crouchedless than three feet away. I was afraid they might hear my thundering heart. I couldn’t move and risk making noise, but if either of them turned around, they might see me. The shadows had shifted, and a sliver of moonlight fell directly on my face.
“Ready to go watch the end of this disaster?” the second man said. From my vantage point, I could barely make out his arm arching back to toss the butt of the cigar away.
“Hey, don’t throw that in the grass,” the first said. “Mr. Bauer will be pissed if we litter around his place. Give it here. There’s probably a trash can in the shed.”
My eyes went wide at his words, and I held my breath.
“Suit yourself,” the other guy said.
The first guy took the cigar and turned toward the shed. To my eyes, his movements took on an almost cinematic slow motion. He’d see me as soon as he looked at the door. I had to risk the noise of moving.
Pivoting on my right foot, I spun and pressed my back to the wall directly to the right of the door. In my squatting position, the lowest shelf on the wall grazed the top of my head. The entire maneuver took less than two seconds. Clenching my eyes shut, I prayed I hadn’t made enough noise to be heard.
The door squealed as the man pushed it open, and my eyes snapped open. I had to at least see if I’d been caught.
“Hurry up, man. I don’t want to miss the start of the second half,” the second man called from outside.
The first guy stepped in, holding the burnt-out cigar, his left foot swinging through and coming within six inches of my own. I didn’t swallow, didn’t blink, didn’t even breathe. All I could dowas watch with wide, terrified eyes as he looked around the shed for a trash can.
Finally finding one, he tossed the cigar in. The guy—somewhere between twenty-five and thirty from what I could see in the darkness—turned to the door again. As he did, his eyes slid right across me. Hell, I’d actually looked into his eyes. I nearly shifted then, nearly let the panic overwhelm me and threw caution to the wind. My dragon screamed at me to do it, to fight and claw my way to Bryn and take her. But, in the dark shadows beneath the shelves, I was invisible. His eyes danced across me, then without pausing, he strode out, shutting the door behind him with abang.
I waited until their footsteps were no longer audible, then let out a trembling lungful of air and fell forward onto my hands and knees. Not a great way to start. I’d assumed I’d have a few moments like this, but I’d planned on them happening when I wasinsidethe house, not out in the fucking backyard.
Glancing out the window, I scanned the area to make sure no one else was around, then inched the shed door open. I headed straight for the rear of the house and the door that led from the flagstone patio into the basement area.
When I got to the glass sliding door without coming across anyone else, I took a moment to catch my breath and calm down. When I felt composed enough, I peered through the doors into the dark room beyond. Most of the basement was devoted to storage: Christmas and holiday décor, old keepsakes, photo albums, unused furniture, and other supplies that accumulated over the years. This portion of the floor, however, had recently been remodeled into a small living room with an attached bathroom that would eventually serve as a type of pool house.Christian’s family was beginning the process of putting in a pool toward the end of the month.
Pulling on the door, I found it locked. Of course.
Why would you lock your outer doors, Mr. Bauer?I thought bitterly.Do you think a family friend might try and sneak in to kidnap and murder your youngest child? How paranoid!
I sighed in frustration. I’d anticipated this, but it would have still been easier to walk right in. Reaching into my pants pocket, I pulled a bandana from my pocket—an item I’d brought along specifically for this task—and took a heavy flower bed edging stone from the garden near the rear door. Wrapping the bandana around the rock to muffle the sound, I banged it on the glass. Rather than smashing it hard, I tapped it a few times, using barely enough force to shatter the glass but not create a loud explosion and shower of shards that might alert someone inside. After four taps, a rapid burst of crackling sounds and spiderweb cracks gave me what I needed.
Placing the rock back where I found it, I used the bandana to work out a few small shards. A couple of tiny pieces of glass hit the ground, but for the most part, I was able to create a hole big enough for my hand.
Covering the back of my hand and wrist with the bandana, I pushed my hand through, reached around to the lock, and spun it. A satisfyingclickcame as I did, and I pulled my hand free. Keeping the cloth in my hand, I grabbed the handle and slid the door open, making sure not to leave any fingerprints.
Thankfully, the Bauers hadn’t activated their security system for the night. It was what I’d hoped for, but that didn’t fill me with confidence. They still had a security team in the house,along with God only knew how many guests watching that damn basketball game.
