Page 84 of Tackle

Yes.

Thank you, baby. Be there in a few.

Emerson shoved her phone back in her pocket then circled the bar to the credit card machine. It was busy doing its thing, spitting out thermal paper like a ticker tape machine gone haywire, when all of a sudden it stopped mid printout. The screen flashed theout of paperwarning.

Well, shit. She dug through the cabinet below the bar, searching for another roll of thermal paper but didn’t see any. She was sure there was some in there. She started pulling stuff out to dig to the back of the cabinet.

A few minutes later, miscellaneous junk scattered around her, she heard a knock at the door.

“Sorry, it’s going to be a few more minutes,” she said, pulling the door open for Oz. “I was batching out the daily receipts and the machine ran out of paper.”

Emerson relocked the door and shoved the keys in her front pocket as she made her way back behind the bar, Oz following her.

Oz took one look at the mess she made, planting his hands on his hips. “You sure you ran out of paper and not that a tornado didn’t hit?”

“Ha, ha. Hardly. You’re not in Kansas anymore,” she smirked.

Oz grinned. “Good one.”

Turning serious, she said, “I can’t leave this sitting overnight mid-batch. I’m going to check the supply closet. Hopefully there’s another box of paper in there.”

“I’ll clean up this mess.”

She got to her toes and kissed his jaw. “Thank you.”

Making her way across the dining room, she slowed when she reached the entrance to the hall, sniffing. “Oz?”

“Yeah?”

“Something smells funny.” The odor grew stronger as she neared the supply closet.

“Funny how?”

“I don’t know. Dusty maybe. Or smoky. Just weird.”

She took another inching step and that’s when it happened—a loud boom. The door to the supply closet flew open, banging into Emerson with enough force to knock her on her ass. Smoke billowed from the open doorway, quickly filling the hall.

“Emerson!”

She coughed, trying to get up but something was wrong with her knee. Pain shot clear up her thigh to her hip when she tried to stand. Flames licked from inside the closet and she scooted back on her butt but it was slow going. She started to panic until she felt a pair of strong hands lift her from under her arms. She cried out in pain.

“What’s wrong?” she heard close to her ear.

“My knee.”

“Hang on to me.”

Oz scooped her up, and cradled against his chest, she held on for dear life as he raced for the door.

Chapter Twenty-seven

Hip leaned against the bar, Oz watched as Emerson made her way through the dining room and disappear into the hall.

Squatting to shove the stuff back in the cabinet, he heard her shout his name.

“Yeah?” he shouted over his shoulder.

“Something smells funny.”

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