Burned Deep (Burned 1)

One of the men told me, “There’s corkboard inside and also on the inner panels of the doors, so that you have more space to pin stuff. You can also close and lock the cabinet when necessary, for security.”

“Wow. This is much more than I expected.” So Dane-like.

“It’ll take us about a half hour to install it. Just confirm where you want it hung.”

We returned to my office and I indicated the wall by the conference table.

“I have a meeting,” I said, “so now works well.”

I gathered up my papers and placed them in a black leather folio. Then I left the workers to it. Molly and I walked toward the stairwell, since that was where Dane’s office suite was located. He was just outside the door to his inner sanctum, engaged in discussion with Amano.

As we approached, Molly peeled off to enter the suite.

Dane asked me, “Where are you off to?”

“I have a meeting on the third floor with PR.” To Amano, I said, “I won’t be long. There are some guys in my office putting up my corkboard.” I shot Dane a look and added, “Thanks, by the way. It’s gorgeous. And huge.”

“You have a lot of planning to do.”

Hadn’t I just learned the full extent of it this morning? “I do. This will be a big help.”

Amano said, “Maybe I should be in there with them.”

“Probably a good idea,” Dane agreed.

I didn’t have anything top secret going on at the moment, but given the anxiety over security that Dane had, I wouldn’t add to his grief by protesting.

Instead, I assured them, “I’ll just be one floor down with Traci Carpenter, VP of Public Relations.”

Dane nodded his approval. I moved past them as they wrapped up their conversation. I opened the heavy door and stepped into the stairwell, trying to get my breathing under control before I met with Traci. I didn’t need her seeing me all flushed and excited. She wouldn’t know it was because of Dane, granted. But still. A five-second conversation with him had me all hot and bothered, so that I was—

I drew up short on the fifth step down and let out a bloodcurdling scream. My heart leapt into my throat and my portfolio went flying, all the papers scattering in the air.

On the landing not more than six or seven steps from me was a rattlesnake. Coiled and hissing.

“Oh, shit,” I choked out. “Oh, God!”

Terror besieged me. The snake started to uncoil and move. Toward me. I took very small, slow steps backward, up to the fourth-floor landing. It slithered to the first step. I turned and raced the rest of the way up and grabbed the handle on the door. It didn’t budge.

Fuck!

I swiped my badge, forgetting that I had to in order to unlock the door. The light remained red. I swiped again, yanked on the handle. Nothing happened.

I stole a glance down the stairway. The rattler inched toward me, its pronged tongue darting in and out of its mouth, its tail sounding like a sprinkler going off in the middle of summer.

I screamed again. Pounded on the door. “Dane! Amano! Someone!”

I pulled harder on the lever. Then my fists banged against the door again.

Suddenly the electronic reader chimed and the door flew open. I jumped back.

Dane took one look at me—likely with horror stamped across my face—and grabbed me, jerking me to him.

“Jesus Christ,” he said.

“Snake.” I pointed. “Don’t let the door close!”

“What the fuck?” He ushered me out of the stairwell, his arms tight around me.