I backed out of the pantry, listening for his breathing, straightening my clothes, and bumped into yet another hard body. Whirling, I saw… Nate.

Was Nate a friend… or was he a foe?

107

“WE HAVE TO TALK,” I said quickly, scanning Nate as if a mere look was enough to tell me whether he could still be trusted. Somehow… I sensed that he was the Nate I knew—and not the double-agent I feared.

“This way,” Nate said, leading me away from the hall of pantries and through a small door. Suddenly we were out in the garden—not the beautiful, landscaped garden for visitors, but the kitchen garden, enclosed by tall brick walls. Nate led me to the darkest corner, where we were surrounded by herby scents of basil, parsley, and sage.

“I guess you didn’t do it,” Nate said, letting go of my hand. “All hell would have broken out.”

“You mean, kill the President?”

“Yeah! Our mission here!”

“I was just about to,” I said, watching his face, “except suddenly your dad strolled in.”

Nate looked shocked. Convincingly shocked. He stepped back and pushed his hand through his hair the way he did when he was thinking. “Whoa,” he finally said.

“Yes,” I said. “Whoa. Right when I was about to do a ten-yard dash with a big honking knife.”

“He must’ve done something really good or really bad,” Nate said slowly.

“Not that these people can tell which is which,” I said. “So what now?”

“We still need to kill the President,” Nate said in a lower voice. “Whatever else happens, we have to do that.”

“No sh—” I began, but without warning, Nate took me in his arms and lowered his mouth to mine.

Shocked, I stood there, too startled to close my eyes. I felt the firmness of his mouth, the strength in his arms. This was the second time in ten minutes that someone had grabbed me, but Nate was the opposite of Kirt. Till now, Tim was the only guy I’d been with voluntarily, and Nate felt so different. But… not bad, actually…

“Hold it right there!”

The harsh voices made adrenaline instantly thread through my veins and we broke apart.

“There she is!” Kirt shouted.

“I can’t believe he’s already up,” I murmured. “I’m losing my touch.”

“And he’s in on it!” Kirt, blood-covered and holding a bag of ice to his head, pointed at Nate.

“No, he isn’t!” I shouted. “I clocked you all by myself, you rapist!”

“Search her!” Kirt screamed. “She has a knife! She’s planning something!”

The guards patted me down roughly but I’d lost the knife back in the pantry, and they found nothing. Goddamn Kirt. I should have killed him when I had the chance.

Nate and I were cuffed and dragged to a different door that led to the cellar. A couple more locked metal doors and there we were, in a whole hallway of empty cages. We were thrown into one, and its heavy door was locked. Because of course there was a dungeon in this house. All the best houses had one.

108

CASSIE

“I WISH MY OLD TERRIER, Ratbane, was here,” Tim whispered.

I nodded, casually trying to look behind me. Ms. Strepp had led us underground to a subway tunnel. It was filthy, stank of urine and human waste and the occasional dead rat or possum. We moved in pairs, walking between the two rails and staying far away from the third rail, as we’d been warned.

I stared through the darkness at my feet, trying not to trip on the wooden crossties.

Tags: James Patterson Crazy House Mystery
Source: readsnovelonline.net