Page 57 of Those Who Are Bound

Elliott chuckled over Jonah’s instruction. “She’s also not deaf.”

Kale put on a face that said he was innocent of any wrongdoing and sought her out, his voice climbing a couple of exaggerated octaves to plead his case. “What? Were you offended? You know what you look like.”

Elliott shook her head and placed her hand on Jonah’s arm in a calming gesture; she could sense his impatience with the kid. “Well aware. I’m not offended. I also know what showing off looks like.”

Kale’s mouth dropped open, and he looked at Jonah in amusement. “Damn, boss, you gonna let her talk to me like that?”

“Yes,” Jonah clipped. He sighed, “This is Kale, my bicycle repairman, for the most part. Kale, this is Elliott.” He placed his hand on the small of her back.

Kale grinned, overlapping front teeth appearing as he drawled out with a knowing tone, “Yeah, I’ve heard about you.” About to expand, he glanced at his boss and changed his mind. Instead, he said more politely, “Pleased to meet you, Elliott.”

“Jury’s out, Kale,” she teased. Jonah chuckled beside her.

“Oh, damn!” he said, not affected. With his grin in place, he bounced more than walked behind the counter. “I like her, boss; she’s feisty.”

“I’m not taking a poll,” Jonah countered. He looked down at Elliott. “He’s the worst of them, at least.”

She saw the gleam of humor and assured him, “I’m good.”

“Talking about me like I’m not here.” Kale shook his head as he pretended to check out something on the counter. “Hey, Ellie, which of these sports is yours?” He waved his hand around.

She stiffened at the nickname. Jonah must have felt her body go rigid because he tried to pull her closer.

Elliott responded, trying to keep her voice even, “It’s Elliott. Not Ellie.” Then she added, infusing humor, “And I kickbox, so I wouldn’t suggest calling me Ellie.”

She saw the respect reflected in the kid’s expression.

“Man, we just got in some rad gloves—”

Jonah interrupted, “Another time.” With the slightest pressure on her back, he propelled her beyond the counter. “Gear’s upstairs.”

Kale leaned against the counter, looking like he wanted to keep the conversation going but wisely controlling any further comments.

Jonah led her through a set of swinging doors into the bike repair shop; bikes were in various stages of assembly with repair tags on them, a work bench was along the far wall. Shelves of parts, both in boxes and out of them, lined another wall. Hanging from the ceiling was a particularly bent and distorted red bike.

“Is that a repair?” Elliott asked as they passed underneath.

Jonah looked up at the mangled metal. “No, that’s a cautionary tale. Always wear your helmet.”

“Wow, whose was it?”

“Mine,” he answered.

Elliott looked back at him in surprise. “Jonah.”

He smiled over his shoulder at her as he pushed through another door at the end of the repair shop. “I have a few souvenirs, but I’m alive.”

There were two options on the other side of the door: up the stairs to the right, or to another part of the building to the left. Jonah reached back and took her hand, heading up the stairs. “The office is up here.”

Elliott followed him up, the warmth of his hand infusing her all over. She considered his body as he easily ran up the stairs ahead of her. She wanted to push his shirt up, find his scars, touch them, kiss them.

Jonah opened another door and entered a large space divided by rolling frosted doors in the middle. He announced, “The office.”

The room was spacious, with a large solid dark wood desk, captain’s chair, and a computer with a video camera sitting on top. When seated at the desk, the brick wall would be behind him; Elliott guessed that would be for the benefit of anyone he brought up on video. A large white box sat in the middle of the desk.

Three of the four walls were the original brick of the building; the fourth was painted drywall. A window overlooked the back alley. The floors were hardwood. Two wooden chairs sat opposite the desk, and metal filing cabinets graced a far wall. A couple of faded sports-themed framed posters sat propped against a wall, not hung up.

Elliott looked at the frosted rolling doors. “What’s back there?”

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