Page 17 of The Enemy Plot
“Fine.” He breathes out an exasperated sigh and follows me.
I let him lead the way.
“Do you see it? It was just there, between the displays,” I say, still lingering in the doorframe, my eyes sweeping the room.
“I don’t see anything.” He walks further in.
“Oh my goodness. We lost it.” I’m fully aware of how high-pitched my voice is right now, but I can’t help it. I can’t believe we lost sight of it. I’m never going to be able to work in here ever again. Fresh tears start to well in my eyes.
Deacon bends down slightly. “Oh, here it is.” His tone is way too casual for my liking.
“Kill it!” I yell, my heart leaping.
He stands back up and glances at the neat stack of books on the display table.
“Don’t you dare!” I yell, taking a single step toward him. He’snotusing one of my books as a spider smasher.
He turns around to face me, a look of disbelief plastered on his face. “What am I supposed to kill it with?”
My gaze falls to his shoes.
His arms go limp. “You can’t be serious.”
The spider appears in my field of vision, speeding to the other end of the store. A shriek escapes me. “Deacon! It’s moving!”
Taking his shoe off, he follows it and quickly smashes the offending spider.
I let out a long swoosh of relief, holding the display table for support. “Thank you.”
Deacon turns to face me and puts his shoe back on.
“Can you do a sweep? Just in case,” I ask, my chest still heaving up and down from this emotional rollercoaster.
He opens his mouth, surely wanting to protest, but I give him my best puppy eyes. He casts me an exasperated glance before embarking on a patrol of the store, scanning the room.
Just when my breathing starts to regulate, he stops, squinting at something on the floor.
I scream again. “What is it?” Gosh, if we have a nest in here, we’re going to have to sell.
He squats down and picks something up. “Nothing. Just a part of your brooch, I think.”
Standing up, he hands me a small book made of enamel. I glance down at my brooch, and sure enough, half of it is missing. I take the piece from his palm, my hands still shaking.
“Wow, you really are scared,” he says, shoving his hands in his jean pockets. “You must have a blast during Halloween.”
“Shut up.” I cross my arms, suddenly aware that I’m completely alone with Deacon. I should probably stop listening to that audiobook. If only it wasn’t so good.
“I think the words you’re looking for are, ‘Thank you for saving my life.’”
I roll my eyes dramatically, but my heart hammers in my chest. “Puh-lease.”
He lifts an eyebrow. “Tell that to your face, Frenchie.”
I shake my head, swallowing hard. “You can go now. We’re even.”
He takes a step toward me, now painfully close. So close I can smell his cologne for the first time. His woody, spicy, intoxicating cologne. “Mmm, I’m not sure. I did just commit murder for you. If anything,youowe me.”
And just like that, he marches out of the store, leaving me speechless and out of breath. Why does Deacon have that effect on me? It’s that stupid voice and that stupid body of his. And those stupid eyes, which have no business in my mind or my dreams. I wish my brain would get the memo, because Deacon was the main act again all night long. And now that I know what he smells like, things will only get worse.