He gave me a hard kiss on the mouth and grinned. “You have the worst damn timing.” He turned more serious. “Can you walk?”
I nodded. “I think so.”
He helped me to my feet. My knees wobbled, and he slipped an arm around my back to steady me. The pain made me dizzy. “Belinda, can we go out the way you came in? I take it that it’s discreet?”
“Yes, but what about Magnolia?”
“Can you climb the stairs?” he asked me.
“That’s not it,” Belinda said, sounding more like herself. “She freaked out in the stairwell.”
“Her claustrophobia,” Colt said as though upset he’d forgotten.
“Her experience with the serial killer,” Belinda corrected.
“What the hell are you talking about?” Colt asked in a tight voice.
Belinda grabbed my left hand. “God, Magnolia. I’m so sorry.”
“I can do it,” I said. “I have to get out of here.” There were two dead bodies less than ten feet from me, and I was close to freaking out. “Let’s go.”
Belinda opened the wine cellar door with the skirt of her dress. Colt and I followed her in, and we both watched her open the door to the spiral staircase.
Colt gave me a worried glance, then looked up the stairwell. “Can you do this?”
“Yes.” I shoved him to the side with my good elbow. “Get out of the way.”
“And . . . she’s back . . .” Colt muttered, but he sounded rather pleased.
Now we just had to get out.