Page 6 of Little Dove

“Spot you, you mean,” I correct pointedly.

He looks over at me, and his lips pull up into a knowing smile. “Fine, yes, they’ll spot me. So we need to find a place where they won’t.”

“I hate to tell you, big guy, but there aren’t many places on this planet you won’t be spotted. Or fit in to.”

His smile turns downright dirty at my words, and I nearly facepalm myself. Damn it, I walked right into that. “I might be big,dolcezza, but I can fit into tight places when I need to.” The low baritone of his voice sends a shiver up my spine and heat spreads to my core. Add in that sexy accent, and I’m surprised I’m not already trying to hump his leg.

The man is sex personified. Good thing I’m used to ignoring those urges.

I roll my eyes. “That was almost too predictable.”

He chuckles. “Perhaps, but it made you think about it.” He winks at me before adding, “Let’s check out other places. We’ll have to go toward the first two buildings.” He heads for the door we just came through, not waiting to see if I follow.

Almost everything inside me is screaming that this is my chance. I need to make a run for it. But another small part of me wants to know what the hell is going on and not chance those assholes finding me on my own. Not to mention, having Lazaro as a bodyguard if shit goes south is definitely a plus.

“If you run, I’ll just have to chase you,” Lazaro calls out. I jerk at that, moving to the door to see him already on the other side of the post office, going through to the next attached building. He’s not even looking at me. How the hell does he know I’m thinking about running?

Unperturbed, I follow him, deciding that making the man with the gun angry at me probably isn’t the smartest move.

I walk into the other building, realizing it’s the barber’s shop, and see him already rooting through drawers and cabinets. I look around, taking in the old, uncomfortable-looking chair, and some of the rusted tools still lying around. Nothing that can be used again, but they’re cool to look at. Well, at least to me.

“Here,” Lazaro says, drawing my attention. He holds out an old razor—while the handle is rusty, the blade still looks in good shape. “Keep this on you, along with those scissors in your pocket in case you need to defend yourself.”

Wait, how did he remember I still have the scissors in my pocket? So much for the element of surprise.

I run my finger over the edge of the blade. It’s utterly dull. “It won’t do much damage,” I warn him. “Not unless we sharpen it.”

“We’ll look around, but at least it’s something. Even if you just throw it at someone to buy yourself some time.” Then he’s moving to the door leading to the final building. This one is the gun shop.

Too damn bad it’s clearly already been looted.

The place is torn apart, other than a few shelves and cases bolted to the floor and walls. The glass in them has been shattered, shards littering the floor, while other pieces hang on by what has to be sheer will to the large wood-framed cases. “Doesn’t look like we’re going to find much here,” I remark as I move carefully into the room. Thank goodness I’m wearing sturdy shoes today, because getting glass in my feet does not sound like a pleasant time.

Lazaro doesn’t answer; he just moves around until he finds another door between two of the shelves and shoves it open, quickly ducking inside. While he’s doing that, I take in the room. It’s a shame really, that people feel the need to destroy places like this. Ancient history should be preserved. I wonder if Old Man Withers knows about the destruction out here. He’s a bit ofa history buff and is one of two members of the town’s historical society. This whole scene will make him cry.

Or really piss him off.

I move over to inspect one of the cases that’s still mostly intact. They don’t make things like they used to. This thing took a beating and most of it is still standing. I vaguely hear Lazaro rummaging around in the other room as I continue to move around the cases, seeing if there is anything left that might be helpful. I would think a gun shop like this would have had a hidden drawer in it. Or maybe not, since back then people just wore their guns on their hips.

Doesn’t hurt to check though.

I run my hands under the glass until suddenly I feel a small notch. At first it feels like a little hole in the wood, maybe where a knot was dug out, and I keep moving. But then I go back to feel around it, and that’s when the tip of my finger snags on it.

I give it a gentle tug. That’s when I hear the click behind me. I turn on my heel and stare in shock as one of the cases pulls away from the wall, revealing something dark behind it.

Holy shit! I gape for a second before I manage to get up and walk toward it. Whoever put it here didn’t want just anyone to find it. I look at the case, realizing now that the lower part of the display and the wood around it are straight, unbending. Which means the mechanisms that open this door have to be connected to that.

I turn back to the door and push on the shelf a bit, trying to open it further. It barely budges, and it groans under the pressure. So much for being able to look at it myself, because no way Lazaro didn’t hear it, though, I suppose I’ll need him to get this all the way open.

Right on cue, he stalks back into the room, and his eyes widen when he zeros in on what I’ve discovered. “How the helldid you find that?” he asks, pulling at the door and opening it further with what seems like little effort.Show off.

I walk over to the display cabinet and run my fingertip over the notch. “I caught my finger on this and when I pulled it, it opened.”

“You Americans are clever bastards when you want to be,” he remarks, turning back to the open door. He pulls out his phone and taps on the flashlight, revealing a small landing and then the top of a set of stairs that descend into the dark. Lazaro steps inside, the beam of light from his phone shifting across the walls until he makes a small sound. I hear another click as a dim light fills the space inside.

Holy shit!

I move closer, though I don’t walk inside. It might be cool, but the light only illuminates the top of the steps, not the darkness below. I’ll never admit that I hate the dark.

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