Page 3 of A Place Like You

Abort.

A jolt of electricity, unexpected and powerful, rockets up my arm. Time slows down as the softness of her skin against my lips triggers a volcanic eruption of desire in the pit of my stomach.

It’s probably nothing. A bad case of altitude sickness. Yeah, it’s called acute mountain sickness, and it’s messing with my equilibrium. Perhaps my oxygen levels are dipping. I’m not used to this area. I should go to the cabin where the oxygen tank is. It’s supposed to help us, so we can acclimate to this elevation.

That’s the only explanation as to why my body is having this reaction.

The warmth spreading across my chest is inconsequential, I assure myself. This is just a side effect of the sudden relocation. But I definitely have to go. Now.

“I’ll leave you to your coffee and your theories. I have something to do,” I say before fleeing the coffee shop.

* * *

When I arrive at the cabin where I’m staying with Callahan, he eyes me with an inquisitive look. “Who’s chasing you?”

Obviously, I can’t tell him I’m not feeling well. After all, I’m a doctor. I should just take care of myself. So, I dismiss him with a shake of my head and change the topic. “Have they told you when we’ll be going back home?”

He scoffs. “Between now and never,” he responds.

My brows furrow in confusion. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

“There’s no definitive timeline. It could be a month, could be longer,” he explains. “Crait Quantum Shield is helping us neutralize the danger, so we can go back and resume our regular lives, but it can take some time. As far as I’m concerned, we don’t know what we are up against just yet.”

When he throws the words neutralize and resume, I know he’s just bullshitting me. He doesn’t even know if we’re in danger, and yet, here we are stuck in nowhere Colorado, bored out of our skulls.

Of course, I can’t bite back the sarcastic retort or the irritation in my voice. “Can you skip the tactical drivel and give it to me straight?”

He throws his hands up in frustration. “What do you expect me to say?” His growl echoes in the cabin. “This is completely out of my control.”

I glance at my hands, then show them to him. “These babies are insured for millions of dollars. I can’t be playing Billy the Kid, shoveling shit and feeding the cows until you decide we’re done serving time.”

His face slowly morphs into a vibrant shade of red, a vein in his forehead throbbing, eerily reminiscent of the way our father’s used to pulse when he was about to lose his ever-fucking mind and yell at us. “Do you think I’m enjoying this? Lake might’ve fucked me, and I can’t even step out to track her down. Not yet at least.”

An eyebrow arches because it seems like he has a plan to escape like his little friend did. “What’s that supposed to imply? Is there a get-out-of-jail-free card? Or are you bailing out of here?” I put my hands on my waist, straightening my shoulders. “Either way, you’re taking me with you.”

He scoffs, running a hand through his hair. “Again, we’re not in prison.”

“Could’ve fooled me,” I retort, bristling at his dismissive tone. “I’m a fucking doctor—the best plastic surgeon in LA, not a farmhand.” I wave a hand as if saying it doesn’t matter and backpedal, focusing on what he said before. “When exactly will you be able to go and look for Lake?”

He shakes his head.

“Callahan?”

He heaves a sigh, his shoulders slumping. “I’m trying to land a position at Crait Quantum,” he admits. “Ansel works for them. We were a good team once. Maybe he can convince them that I’m a good asset.”

“What’s going to happen with your job at the FBI?”

“I went MIA. Even when we leave this place, I doubt my position at the bureau will still be there waiting for me. Plus, like you, I can do a lot more than scooping shit and milking cows.”

“Think they’d need a resident surgeon? I can’t continue pretending to be John Wayne or some mountain man. It’s driving me crazy,” I complain, expressing only a fraction of my frustration.

He rubs his chin in consideration. “You know what? I think we should have a conversation with Finnegan Gil, one of the owners of CQS.”

I gaze at him. “What are we going to discuss with him?”

“I’m guessing there are other jobs around the area. He can use my expertise within his company,” he suggests, shrugging. “There’s a clinic in town where you could lend your skills.”

My lips quirk into a smirk. “I knew I liked you for a reason.”

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