Page 137 of So Wild

Max lunged with an agility she couldn’t have replicated on her most athletic day, his face screwing up in concentration, his muscular arms extended. Time spun on a dime and for a moment, she was sure he’d make it. Then the door hit the frame, bobbed once and then the lock returned home with a loud, hatefully satisfying, click.

Julia swore. Max swore. They both reached for the handle, their fingers colliding as Julia forgot her fear of touching him in the fear that they were trapped. The handle didn’t budge.

“The keys,” Max said, frantically checking his pockets. “I’ve got the keys, I’m sure I do.”

Julia didn’t say anything. She’d seen the keys embedded in the door as it closed. They would be there still, dangling impotently from the keyhole, of no use to either of them.

Max pounded a fist against the door, the sound like a grenade going off. “It’s locked. We’re locked in.”

Julia covered her face. Unless she could fashion a makeshift key out of a broken monitor, she was officially spending the weekend in her least favourite place, in her least favourite town with Max fucking Connor. She pressed her back against the cool concrete wall and slid all the way down.

Chapter 2

Man up. Pushthrough it. Shit happens.They were the epithets of Max’s life. Blunt statements from uncles and coaches and mates. They all boiled down to the same thing; when life gets hard, you get on with it and you get on with itquietly.

Sometimes the advice was helpful; other times it was useless. Take this scenario. Julia Bennett was slumped against a wall, he was late for the most important evening he’d had in months, both of them were trapped in a room with concrete walls, no windows and a reinforced steel door. I mean sure, shit happened, but didthisshit have to happen? Over by the wall, Julia moaned quietly. She was white as a sheet, each of her freckles standing out like radio towers and there were goosebumps all over her bare arms. He should comfort her. He shouldn’t close his eyes and pretend none of this was happening, right?

Feeling woefully out of his depth, Max approached her the way one approached an unmarked package. “Hey, are you okay?”

Julia nodded, her lips pressed together like she was holding in a scream. Max mentally counted down from ten, breathing deep and urging his body to relax. Their best bet would be to contact someone. Julia’s phone was out of the question. He checked his own. No reception. Bonnie was always lecturing him about getting a new provider but he told her he never used his personal phone at work. Famous last words.

He kneeled at Julia’s feet. “Hey, can you look at me?”

She lifted her head and suddenly Max had no idea why he’d asked. Her irises were bright green, the brown ringing them so pale it was almost gold. Bambi eyes, drown-in-me eyes, eyes to kill for. They stared at each other a moment, a strange heat rising inside him, and then he coughed, forcibly breaking the connection.

“Anyone know you’re here?” he asked, the words coming out rougher than he intended.

“My sister, but she’s gone to a party. She might be there all weekend.”

Her lower lip trembled, the plushness of it drawing his gaze as effectively as cleavage. He’d give anything to have Julia look as bored as she usually did. Her obvious vulnerability was stirring something in him. Something macho and unhelpful.

“I’m sorry,” he said, unsure what he was apologizing for. “What about your phone? Any chance it’s still working?”

“It’s busted and even if I could fix it, the battery’s dead.”

Max stood, needing to put some distance between himself and her mouth. “This doesn’t look good.”

“What about your phone?”

“I don’t get reception in this area.”

“What model do you have? Maybe I can take it out and put it in mine?”

Max held out his iPhone and Julia snorted. “No chance. We’re totally screwed. Wait! What about our cars? A cop might see them, in the parking lot?”

He shook his head. “That’s a long bow to draw.”

Most cops didn’t live where they worked, himself included. It was too likely disgruntled crooks would egg your house or poison your dog. It also meant very little chance a colleague would cruise past and spot his Ford Ranger or Julia’s beat-up Commodore still waiting side by side for their owners to return. Max racked his brain for alternatives, but it kept showing him hazel eyes and full pink lips.

Unhelpful shit.

“I never should have agreed to work back.” Julia stood, tugging at the waistband of the black jeans she wore as often as he wore his navy uniform pants. They were so tight and sleek the material looked like leather.

“This is what I get for being such a pushover,” she said, turning on the spot. “This is all my fault.”

Max was finding it increasingly hard to look away from her ass. He closed his eyes. “Uhh, it’s done now. No point wondering ‘what if.’ Do you have any water?”

“Half a liter in my bag.”

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