Page 8 of Accidentally Kidnapping the Hitman

“It can’t hurt you,” Wyatt says. “Look.”

He prods the Jack in the middle of the forehead, sending it swaying backward. The tinny music isn’t playing any more, but the echo of it loops round and round in my brain. I’m gonna be hearing that creepy jingle in my dreams.

“Stop it.” I poke my human shield in the ribs. “Don’t piss him off. He’ll follow us home and murder us in our sleep.”

Wyatt chuckles, turning back to the table. “He can try.”

At second glance, there’s a folded slip of paper wedged in the doll’s manic smile. His cracked eyes point in different directions, and he sways queasily on his spring. Wyatt plucks the paper free.

“It’s another riddle.” He tries to show me, but I shake my head, still staring at the Jack. My heart is racing, and my palms are damp with cold sweat. Why won’t it stopgrinningat me? My ears ring.

“Annie?”

I unclench my back teeth to speak. “This isn’t fun anymore,” I whisper, but a quick look at the clock on the wall says we’ve got more than forty minutes left. A panicked moan slips out, and Wyatt stands up straighter.

“Okay, we’re done. Let’s get out of here.”

“But—”

A strong hand takes mine, tugging me through the winding paths of dusty furniture. I cringe whenever we pass too close to the shelves of china dolls, their empty glass eyes watching us leave. Wyatt’s warm, steady grip is my anchor, and I squeeze his fingers for reassurance, letting him tow me to the next door.

“Is there a panic button?”

Wyatt shrugs, noncommittal. “This will be quicker.”

And just like that, my nerdy best friend breaks the padlock on the door in one brutal motion. My brain fritzes out, turning to static, and he pulls me through to the next room.

This next one is decorated like a bank vault, with fake jewels glittering inside glass cases and red lasers criss-crossing the space between us and the door. Wyatt leads me straight through the lasers, ignoring the sirens that wail and the strobe lights that begin to flash.

Even with the racket, it’s better in here away from the dolls. My panic ebbs to a low hum, but I’m still so freaking ready to get back out to the city street. To the stars overhead and the fresh spring breeze, with no locked doors between us and freedom.

“They’ll probably let us out—” I start to say when we reach the next door, but Wyatt breaks the padlock easily again.

“I’ll leave cash for new locks. Don’t worry about it, Annie.”

He takes my hand again, even though I’m not stiff with fear anymore. I hold on tight, clinging on as Wyatt tows me through room after room, past a fake funfair tent and a murder basementand an empty zoo enclosure. As my panic fades, those suspicions start up again, hissing even louder in my brain.

Since when does Wyatt Kinnear know how to break padlocks? Since when does he hold hands casually, and lean into me in the backs of the cars, and hunt me like a leopard through laser tag?

No.

No.

Dean wouldn’t—this isn’t Dean Kinnear. It’s impossible. My best friend’s twin brother never even noticed I was alive, and it’s beenyears.

But as we burst out through the last escape room door, met by two shocked faces at reception, I’m leaving way more confused than I entered.

Five

Dean

Annie is chalk white when we spill back out onto the street, fleeing down the creaky metal stairs like that doll thing is chasing after her. She spins around when she hits the sidewalk and watches me follow, shaking out her hands.

“I’m so sorry.” A full body shudder rolls through Annie’s frame, and she looks queasy. “I didn’t think I’d be such a weenie in there. This is supposed to be your big bachelor night, and then I go and freak out in the escape room.”

“Forget about it.” My boots hit the pavement, and I reach her in two easy strides. “Tonight is still perfect.”

Annie’s chin wobbles. She gazes up at me with those big leaf-green eyes, so innocent and open. They’re the same eyes that used to slide over to me as a teenager, stealing little glances. At the time, I thought Annie Lowell was scared of me, keeping track like a bird watching a house cat, but now I’m not so sure. What if she was staring at me for other reasons?

---