"You think that's bad? You should see Fentanyl." She held up two fingers. "Two milligrams is all it takes to kill someone."
I frowned. "How do you know that?"
She wiggled her head as she shrugged. "Henry was watching a 60 Minutes special, and they were talking about it."
"And you happened to remember?"
We stood, and I tucked the full paper clip container far behind my computer screen, out of reach of random feet and flying hands.
"I can't help what sticks in my brain."
Whitney stepped out of her office, and I ducked down, my cheek pressed to the cool wood surface.
"Still hiding from her?"
"Is it that obvious?"
"She's walking this way."
Shit.
I grabbed my bag and tossed it over my shoulder as my knees hit the floor. "Cover for me."
On hands and knees, I crawled around the back of my cubicle and into Jim's while he played a game of solitaire, none the wiser to my antics, and dipped into the aisle next to the elevator.
"Hi, Whitney."
"Where is she?"
"Who?"
"Don't be cute."
My stomach plummeted as I reached up like a toddler and pressed the down button on the elevator, and Janet stopped beside me.
"Hiding from Whitney?"
"Shh." I pressed my finger to my lips. "Don't look at me."
"Got it." She tucked the files in her arms closer to her body and glanced over her shoulder as Whitney and Aria spoke with raised voices, no doubt drawing the attention of the office.
Well done, Aria.
The elevator doors opened, and I crawled inside with Janet beside me. "Garage, please," I whispered.
She thumbed the button.
"Hold the elevator, Janet." Whitney's voice boomed across the floor and bounced off the walls of my soon-to-be coffin.
"Shit."
I crawled to the side and smashed the close door button on repeat until they closed with Whitney's cream-colored toe in my vision.
"Sorry, it wouldn't stay open," Janet said through the cracked door.
Sweat broke out across my forehead, my heart racing, my knees scuffed. "That was intense."
"You are going to get your ass reamed when you come back into the office."