Page 46 of The Pack's Knotty Runaway
“We smile, we sign whatever they put in front of us, and we let them wave us through,” I say. “The second we hit the staff halls, we peel off and find her. Just a quick check-in to make sure she’s okay, and a quick hit of her scent to stop these damn withdrawal tremors. Then we’re gone before anyone notices three new maintenance guys are missing.”
“Someone’s gonna recognize you,” Ash says.
“Nobody’s recognizingme, Ash. Or us. That’s the whole point of the...” I tap the plastic frames. “We’re ‘new in town’. We’re ‘nobodies’. Relax. Besides, the owner and the receptionist are the only ones here who’ve actually seen our faces.”
That’s right. No one is getting between me and my scent match. She can’t be more than a hundred yards away and my nose is already twitching with anticipation.
Woo, yeah baby—I am wired. Let’s do this.
We get to the lobby with its waterfall feature, framed mandalas, and enough bamboo to feed a panda for a week. Behind the front desk is Chloe. Last time we were here, she watched the three of us blackmail her boss across the counter. But today, she doesn’t even blink. The taped glasses and Ash’s ridiculous squirrel stache are indeed enough to wipe our records clean.
I step up first. Easy posture, hands loose, biggest dumbest grin I own.
“Hi. We’re here for the job hiring thing.”
“Oh yes, of course.” She slides a clipboard across the counter, then another, then a third. “Just sign in on those, and then you can head down that hallway. The interviewers are set up at the end.”
“Perfect. Thank you.”
We sign. Today, I shall be... Bruce Jovi. Beside me, Ash’s hand freezes, and I can feel him sweating through his mustache.
Just sign the sheet, man.
“You guys look familiar,” Chloe says slowly, her head tilted, eyes moving over the three of us. “Have we met?”
Bram goes rigid. Ash’s pen stops dead on the page.
“Nope,” I say, before either of them can ruin it. “Don’t think so. We’re just passing through—three buddies, new in town.Figured we’d pick up a little work for a couple weeks, make some gas money. We’re on a road trip.”
“A road trip.” Her face softens.
“Big one.” I hand her my clipboard. “Trying to hit every dumb roadside attraction between here and the coast. You’d be amazed how fast that drains a bank account.”
“That sounds fun, actually.”
“It’s a blast. You should quit and come.”
She laughs again, waving us off down the hall as Ash finally signs, and just like that, we’re golden.
We move. I keep my pace slow and bored, hands in my pockets. The second we’re out of earshot, Ash breathes out hard enough to wet his mustache.
“See?” I murmur. “Told you.”
“We’re not out of the water yet,” he whispers back.
The corridor’s narrow, lined with more bamboo paneling and little brass bells. And about thirty feet down, planted against the wall with his arms crossed, is a security guard the approximate size of a family refrigerator.
He’s looking at us.
“Don’t look at him,” Bram says under his breath, eyes locked dead ahead. “Both of you. Eyes front, keep walking, nice and normal. We’re prospective maintenance guys. We belong here.”
“He’s still looking,” Ash whispers.
“Of course he’s looking, that’s his whole job,” I say. “Walk.”
We walk. Slate floor, brass bells, refrigerator with a face. We’re almost past him.
“Hey.” His voice drops on us like a dumbbell. “Hold up.”
