Page 37 of Set Fire to This Cardhouse

“I’ll make you a deal,” he says without looking up. “You cook, and I’ll finish with this.”

“Not your cook.” Mike’s grin is audible, and Toby glances over just long enough to counter it with a shake of his head.

“Like I’d let someone with your pyromaniac tendencies anywhere close to my kitchen. I just moved, and I have zero desire to move again because you burned down the building. I haven’t even unpacked all my boxes.”

A soft chuckle, then Mike rises. “Pasta or rice?”

“Something with taste?”

“Sorry.” Mike doesn’t sound sorry. “Today’s menu is things that don’t smell strongly. You know how it goes.”

Toby sighs with the dramatic air of a six-year-old denied his favorite treat. It’s for show, of course—he’s fully aware that cooking spicy food is associated with a stronger smell that could draw unwelcome visitors. “Pasta, then. I’ll just drown it in curry ketchup.”

“Those supplies have to last until our return to civilization,” Mike says mildly, and since when is he the voice of reason? Quick, send lookouts so we don’t miss the riders of the Apocalypse!

“If their choice of hideout is any indication, I doubt we’ll be here for more than a couple of days.” Toby straightens, careful as he moves the newly assembled gear. In a forest like this, it’s a fine balance between setting up something that’ll wake them each time a bird flaps its wings, and something that’s too insensitive to reliably trigger the alarm if there’s an actual problem.

Mike returns from the truck with a pack of thin spaghetti that need only three minutes of cooking—it’s why they bought four packs of them. He empties them into the boiling water and stirs before he asks, “Where would you look for the weapons?”

“Cellar if they’re smart,” Toby says. “Which is up for debate, given their setup. Either way, my money’s on the barn.”

“The guards.” Mike nods.

“Yep. I doubt they’d appoint four people to keep a couple of cars from driving off by themselves, so that barn must hold something more interesting.”

“My thoughts exactly.” Sitting cross-legged on the damp forest floor, Mike looks perfectly at ease. “So, what’s the plan? Eat, sleep, have another look tomorrow so we can figure out their actual number?”

“Just keep in mind that we are not supposed to take them down.”

“I know.” Mike sounds as if the knowledge physically pains him. It startles a laugh out of Toby, and while he turns away quickly, he doesn’t miss the smile tugging at Mike’s mouth, Mike’s face illuminated by the soft glow of the gas cooker.

Jesus. Toby wishes the tent wasn’t quite so small.

***

“Stop it, please.” With darkness surrounding them, Mike seems even closer.

Toby shifts in his sleeping bag. Again. “Stop what?”

“Keeping me awake.” In spite of his words, Mike’s voice is drowsy, the words smudged around the edges.

“How am I keeping you awake?” Blinking up at the tarpaulin ceiling, Toby listens to the rustling leaves for a moment before he adds, “I’m not even doing anything. I’m just lying here, perfectly still, bothering no one.”

Mike exhales a soft breath and rolls onto his back. His shoulder comes to rest against Toby’s. “You’re radiating ‘I am uncomfortable’ in glaring neon letters.”

“Glaring neon letters,” Toby repeats slowly because maybe if Mike hears it in someone else’s voice, he’ll realize how ridiculous it sounds.

“I can hear you thinking from here. People on the hacienda can probably hear you thinking.” Mike sounds more awake now, his tone wry and a little tight. There isn’t enough light to make out his features. “I’m not going to jump you, you know. I do have self-control.”

“I wasn’t thinking about that,” Toby says quickly. Honestly, Mike jumping him was not even on the list. “Anyway, I could take you.”

“Really.” Mike puts enough weight on the word to make it land heavily between them, the acoustic equivalent of a gauntlet. Does he expect Toby to back away from the challenge? As if.

“Yes,” Toby says, slow and even. “Really.”

Probably.

“You will never even see me coming.” Mike’s tone is dripping with smugness, and just for that, Toby will use every trick in the book, including the ones he’d usually leave out of a friendly face-off. “Anyway,” Mike continues, “if it isn’t me, what’s got you all hot and bothered? I doubt our rubber boot army is much cause for concern.”

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