Page 96 of Only the Devil
The crowd parts around us in a wash of voices replaying what happened.
The auditorium doors open and bright sunlight blinds me. Pressure on my back nudges me through the crowd, past a van with a news crew unloading, and toward the parking lot.
Keeping my head down, I ask, “Do you think he’s going to come after us?”
“No. It’s not his MO. Plus, he doesn’t know who did it. But to be safe, I’m putting you in a car. You’re not going back to the office. If he calls, tell him you’re stuck in traffic and heading back. Leave it at that.”
“Where are you going?”
“I’m joining him and Thompson. Someone needs to see what he does.”
“You’ll be safe?”
We reach the lot and the man from inside the auditorium pulls up in an SUV with tinted windows. Jake opens the back passenger door.
“You worried about me, Jonas?” he teases — softer now, more grounding than playful.
I realize he’s trying to steady me, bring me back from the adrenaline crash with something normal.
“Yes, you numbskull.”
He fists my hair and tilts my head back, claiming my mouth with a kiss that literally hoovers the oxygen from my lungs. When he breaks away, I search his eyes, questioning. Is he nervous about what he’s walking into? Should I be scared for him?
“I love you. See you shortly.”
It’s not the first time he’s said those words, but right now, they sound like a promise, like insurance against whatever comes next. Jake doesn’t do public displays of emotion. The fact that he’s saying it now, in front of his colleague, after everything that just happened... It’s not a good sign.
“I’ll be fine. Noah won’t let anything happen to you. You’re safe with him.” He turns to the driver.
I climb in and Jake nods toward the seatbelt. “Buckle up.”
“Noah?” Jake calls.
I do my best to ignore the unease in the pit of my stomach as he transfers his attention to the driver.
“I got her.”
They exchange looks, and I notice the earpieces and the gun holstered at Jake’s hip. The door closes and Jake heads back through the crowd.
“Shit.” I fish my phone from my back pocket and try to picture where I left my laptop. “I need to go back.”
“No can do.” The vehicle crawls forward through the parking lot.
“My laptop,” I press.
“We’ve got it.”
“You do?”
“You left it at coat check. Jake passed it on. It’s in the back.”
Right. Right.
I check my phone. No messages.
* * *
Any activity?
