Page 38 of Burn

“If you get to splurge, just—cheat all the diets and food requirements. What’s the one food you go for?”

“Um,” I said, swallowing a hard lump. “I guess it depends on where I am.”

“Okay, let’s say here—or where we were in Pennsylvania.”

“Um… banana pudding. Maman used to make that for Am and me. I loved it. Am would always let me finish her extras cause Nilla wafers were the best.” I’d almost forgotten that. “Don’t get me wrong, I like chocolate too. But Nilla wafers and bananas are just—heavenly.”

“Got it.” He turned a hard right onto a road I hadn’t even seen there and we were just following a road into the hills. “So, what if you were in New York?”

“I have a weakness for cannolis. But if I’m going to be in New York, it has to be cheesecake from Juniors. It’s to die for, especially the raspberry one.”

“Europe?”

“It depends on where… the patisseries in Belgium and France are just the worst. I love bread. I love bread in all its forms whether it’s dinner rolls or baguettes or donuts. So, pastries are excellent.” My stomach cramped as I could practically picture the smell of the fresh baked bread. “I used to love cornbread and beans when I was little too. Not the same there, obviously, but still good.”

“What about England? Or Scotland?”

“Sticky toffee pudding.” A nervous laugh escaped. “Italy it’s the gelato and Switzerland it’s the chocolate. I never try to splurge too much but I do like to enjoy it when I have the chance.”

He took another turn, this one a left and we were heading down what looked like a driveway. Were we at their base?

“I haven’t had sticky toffee pudding,” he said, slowing when we passed the treelined drive and into a clearing with a house, a barn, and an empty paddock. The house didn’t look like it had any functional windows.

So abandoned maybe?

He circled around the two buildings and then pulled straight into the barn. Despite being abandoned, it was relatively clean inside. Empty stalls lined either side of the aisle. The stall doors were all open and a ladder stretched up in the middle to the rafters.

“Get the taser,” Voodoo said, flipping open the glove compartment. “Take that and out, I want you up the ladder, and then laying flat against the boards over the feed room. You can’t see up there unless you’re directly under it.”

“What’s happening?” I was already moving. He’d turned off the Jeep and joined me in climbing out. Circling to the back, he flipped open the hatch and slid off his jacket. Next, he pulled what might be a flak jacket on. Or bullet proof vest.

It was something. He also had a gun out of his shoulder holster. Then lifted a rifle that he slung over his back, the strap securing it crossways. The last was a shot gun.

“Go,” he said. “Up there and think about what dessert you’d like to splurge on tonight. Because we’re going to earn that splurge.”

“They’re still coming, aren’t they?” My stomach was on the ground. Clearly, they were or why else would he be getting ready.

“Yep, they are, but you’re going to be just fine. This is a hiccup, Firecracker. Up the ladder, lay down flat, keep the taser in your hand. If anyone comes up there, you push that into them and squeeze the trigger. Don’t hesitate. Got it?”

I wanted to argue with him. I wanted to offer him something that wasn’t me scrambling up to the loft to hide.

“Like I said, think about dessert. I like ice cream,” he told me. “Whatever we splurge on, I’ll be sure to eat more than half so you don’t have to feel guilty about it.”

It was the most ridiculous thing to find comfort in, but I nodded. “Be careful?”

One corner of his mouth kicked up and his dark eyes seemed to sparkle. “This is going to be fun.”

He winked and then lifted his chin at me, an order to go.

The sound of a car outside had me racing upward. I climbed the ladder, taser clenched in my sweaty palm. Once I was up there, I sprawled, stomach down and ignored the dust that poofed up.

The engine idled outside and then cut off abruptly. A moment later, a car door opened.

Then another.

And another.

Eyes closed, I pressed my cheek to the wood. How the hell had they followed us so closely?

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