Page 55 of Half Truths (Secret Society 1)
“The lights are off, that means they’re not there,” Nolan said.
“Good,” the other guy said.
“What’s your name?” I asked.
“Marcus.”
“Marcus.” I nodded. “I like to know who’s fault it’s going to be when I die.”
They laughed. I didn’t.
“You’ll go up the winding stairs where the organ is. You’ll see a small door in front of it, it’s so small, you can miss it, so pay attention and use your flashlight. In there, you’ll see the painting. Roll it up and bring it out.”
The adrenaline must have still been coursing through me because none of this seemed difficult and I was still one-hundred-percent game for it. I’d go in there, go up the stairs, steal the painting, and get out. I could do this. Totally.
“How will I get in? Do you have a key?”
“Let me worry about that,” Logan said.
“You’re coming with me?”
“Everywhere you go, I go.”
I would’ve found it sexy, if he didn’t look like he wanted to rip my head off. I ignored it because I didn’t want to go in there by myself. Nolan held his finger up for us to wait and ran somewhere. When he came back, two seconds later, he threw each of us a big black T-shirt. I thanked him, put mine over my head, and slipped the wet one through one of the sleeves. Logan peeled his wet T-shirt off, tossed it at Marcus, and put the dry one over himself. The luxury of being a boy.
We made our way over to the tower, walking nonchalantly, as if we were just walking through campus.
“I can’t believe you lied to me about the secret society,” I said as we walked.
“I didn’t lie.”
“You didn’t say anything when you clearly knew that the flower and card I’d received was about this.”
“That doesn’t mean I lied.”
“Whatever. For the record, I think all of this is dumb. I’m only doing it because . . . ” I hesitated, peering up at him. He was busy looking around and didn’t seem like he was paying much attention to me at all.
“Because?” he asked, or rather said, in a stern tone.
“I want answers.” I shrugged.
“About Lincoln.”
“And Lana.”
“What makes you think we have anything to do with Lana?”
“The other day, when you drugged me, you showed me pictures of them together.” I raised an eyebrow.
“I didn’t drug you.” He scowled, then pointed at the side of the tower.
I headed there, but Logan reached for my hand and held it in his, steering me in the direction he wanted. My heart skipped.
“What are you—”
“Just play along.”
“Oh. Okay,” I whispered as he pulled me onto the side of the building, beside the door.
My back was against the wall as he caged me in with both arms on either side of my head. A few people walked by, talking and laughing. My eyes widened on Logan’s. He was looking at me but didn’t say anything. More people walked by. He rolled his eyes, exhaling.
“You’re going to have to move and press yourself against the door,” he said.
I was only two steps away from it, so I moved in that direction. One, two. Logan moved with me as if we were in the middle of a dance. I felt the cold surface of the metal door behind me as I looked up at him.
“Wrap your arms around my neck.” He leaned forward, making it easier for me to reach. I did as I was told, ignoring the way my heart galloped as I wrapped my arms around him and he hoisted me up slightly with his knee between my legs.
His eyes were on the door as he pulled something out of his pocket. I couldn’t make out what. I looked beyond him, watching the people as they walked back and forth, keeping a lookout in case anyone walked too close to us. It was too dark beneath the tower for them to see what we were doing. We probably looked like two horny college kids, not two thieves who were about to steal a painting allegedly worth millions of dollars.
“Keep your eyes on me, sweetheart. Don’t worry about everyone else.” His voice was gruff as he concentrated on the lock behind me.
“If I don’t worry about everyone else, I’ll focus on the fact that your leg is between mine and I look like I’m about to kiss you.”
“Is this turning you on?” His lip turned up, his gaze flicking to mine.
“No.”
“Liar.” He chuckled darkly, going back to the task at hand.
“Aren’t you getting tired of having my weight on you?”
“Nah. I can carry you all night long.” His gaze was on mine again.
The way he said that, with that undeniably sexy undertone, made my stomach flip. I licked my lips. He kept staring, his hands working on the lock. It made me wonder what else those hands could do if given the task. I needed to stop. My overactive imagination and libido needed to simmer down. Yet, I couldn’t stop looking at his lips and wondering just how soft they’d be against mine. It was the situation we were in. It was. He was mean and rude, and he didn’t like me.
