by Abby Knox
Dash craned his neck to look for Harper and spotted her scribbling notes, dodging the line of people who were filing inside. Simultaneously, the two threatening-looking men from earlier stood in the opposite corner of the room. And their eyes were trained directly on Harper. Dash's stomach churned as he fought the instinct to cause a scene on Harper's first day of work. He could be overthinking things, and his mind could be filling in the gaps with theories he knew nothing about.
He felt as if he was always scanning the horizon for predators and signs of danger. Girardi might be awaiting trial for his masterminding a plot to assassinate the governor—and kidnapping his daughter in the process—but the crime family was so ingrained in Newcastle, the upcoming trial hardly slowed down the activity at all.
What the fuck were those guys doing here? And why were they watching Harper?
Without thinking, Dash sprang through the crowd.
"There's our other teammate," Dash said, grabbing Harper by the bulky woolen mitten and pulling her along.
When he grabbed her hand, he felt a tingling of heat shoot up his arm. It's all that damn wool she wears. Too much static electricity, Dash thought. God, even her clothes seemed made to annoy him.
"Have you lost your mind? That's not what I'm doing here," Harper protested.
Opal seemed pleased with the idea. "Perfect. We'll have a reporter embedded with one of the teams!" She had a high-pitched, reedy voice that could have summoned every dog within a ten-mile radius.
The word "embedded" hit Dash out of nowhere. It sounded as if someone was getting into bed with the Brute Squad. His filthy mind flashed an unwelcome thought of Harper hopping naked into a giant bed with him, Holden, Levi, Billy, Ricky, and Alex.
Outside of helping Harper do her job, Dash didn't give a crap about the newspaper story; he just wanted to get Harper away from all these strangers who seemed intent on talking to her and away from the mayor, whom Harper seemed determined on grilling. Anybody in any position of authority in this town, Dash was suspicious of their motives and their response to the relentlessly political Harper.
"This is not necessary. I think I got the gist of the place enough to write a story. Not that much to tell," Harper said.
Dash insisted. "We're supposed to have even numbers anyway, and you make eight. Sorry, thems the rules."
Holden, who stood by them holding a brochure, looked at him like he was nuts. "That's nine if you could Declan—"
"Shut it, Holden." Dash brushed past him as he rushed over to the counter to sign his waiver and one for Harper.
She protested that. "Hey. Psycho. I can sign my name on an indemnity waiver."
Dash knew he was acting all out of character, and he also knew everyone, including Declan, was looking at him like he'd lost his marbles. "Good for you, let's go. Declan! What room do we got? Let's do this bitch."
The room they were assigned to was called "Sea Shanty" and was designed to look like a ship's interior.
Somebody locked the door after their team had filed inside, and Billy began hyperventilating.
"I thought you said you'd been buried alive and escaped?" Holden asked.
Billy, banging on a faux porthole in the wall, trying to get air, replied with a wheezy, "I didn't say I escaped."
Dash and Holden exchanged looks.
Levi crossed his arms and said, "Help me understand. You were buried alive but didn't escape. Then, are you the ghost of Billy Sullivan?"
"Listen, smart guy. It was Sonny Girardi, and he did it to shut me up. He dug me out a few minutes later."
Dash's head was about to explode. "Do you mind telling us how that has any correlation to an escape room?"
"I didn't say it did! I was just making conversation!"
Declan interjected by holding up a prop letter he'd found. "Look! A clue!"
"No, you weren't!" Dash shouted at Billy, ignoring Declan.
"Hey, Brain Trust!" Everyone turned and watched as Harper held up the letter. "It's Morse code. I know this. Hang on."
Dash watched in amusement and irritation as Harper showed off her knowledge of Morse code while the group dynamic deteriorated into joking and bickering. Eventually, she deciphered the text and shouted out the next clue.
By that point, everyone else was ignoring her, except for Fiona and Levi, who seemed genuinely into the activity.
The three of them huddled around a periscope and hashed out another clue as each one looked through it, one by one. Dash found his legs eating up the distance over to the periscope and asking if he could have a look.
Harper looked at him in surprise. "Oh. You've decided you're not too cool to participate now?"
Dash shrugged. "It's too loud over there. I can't handle the arguing," was the excuse he gave.
Harper laughed. "Be my guest. How you bunch of gorillas ever managed to band together to prevent a political assassination is beyond my scope of comprehension. No offense, Fiona."
Fiona lifted one shoulder. "I get it."
Levi exclaimed, "Hey, why are you directing no offense at my girlfriend and not me?"
Harper smirked. "Can't imagine."
Dash shot her a look. "I was trying to be nice. You don't always have to show off."
Harper cocked her head and clucked at him sympathetically. "Aww, but it takes hardly any effort."
"I heard that. And maybe I just won't sign any of your wildlife petitions anymore," Holden said from across the room, where he and Billy were trying to jimmy the lock with Levi's switchblade.
Dash glared at Harper. "Great job. How does it feel to know you offended the nicest person in the room?"
Billy grunted as the lock refused to give. "Why don't you just kiss her already, Dash."
His temper about to erupt, Dash stepped toward Billy. That was it. Once and for all, he was going to shut the mouth of that feral little runt. But as he moved, something rattled below his feet.
He paused, bounced up and down for a moment, and then bounced a little bit harder. He felt floorboards move, and the rattle echoed against something hollow. "Wait a minute; I think I found another clue!" Dash exclaimed.
Dash ordered everyone off the oriental rug and rolled it up from the corner closest to the boards that rattled.
When he revealed the floor underneath, however, there was no sign of a trap door. Just plain old floorboards. He got down on his hands and knees and felt around. "That's weird. It felt like a door or something," he said.
He tried prying up one of the boards, but nothing gave way.
"Huh. Probably just some rotting wood," Levi said. "These old places are full of termites, I'll bet."
Dash unfurled the carpet again and thought.
All of a sudden, Harper was jumping up and down. "I got it!"
Her translation of Morse code had led them to the ship's wheel mounted in the middle of the room.
Fiona joined her in helping her figure out what to do next.
"Oh, wait!" Harper shouted. "We turn the wheel to line up the direction and depth gauges over here, and that will lead to the next clue!"
On and on she went, with little help from anyone else.
Eventually, after about ten minutes of finding clue after clue, she announced. "OK, class. Do you want your first mate to get you out of here, or do you want to keep trying to break out with the help of property damage?"
Dash snorted. "First mate."
"Well, I think that's a good word for it," Harper said. "I've been helpful, haven't I?"
Billy cut in and handed Levi his switchblade back. "Yes, please, just get me out of here. These dudes are starting to smell."
"That's you, Billy," said Dash.
Harper then worked her way through the last clue, which led to a key, which allowed her to unlock the door. She handed the key to Fiona.
"Will you do the honors, midshipman?"
Fiona laughed. "I'd be honored to, O Captain, My Captain."
"Now she's the captain," Dash muttered.
Holden turned
to Dash, "Well, she did sorta take charge and get us out of here a lot faster than any of us would have. So…"
Harper jumped up and down when the key worked, and Fiona held the door open, showing everyone the way out with a flourish and a bow.
Dash stalked out without even looking at Harper, though he could feel her eyes on him as he passed. He scanned the scene; the wise guys were gone. All the other teams seemed to have solved their puzzle rooms long before they had, and the place was then mostly deserted except for that woman named Opal, who was tidying the place up, alone.
Outside on the sidewalk, the rest of the squad convened, agreeing to head one direction up Old Harbor Drive for fast food. Dash said his goodbyes and went the other way to grab a sandwich at the bodega on the corner. As he headed that way, he could not help but spot the mop of curly red hair standing in an alleyway, talking on the phone.
"Hi Greg, just checking in."
Dash's feet stopped as he heard her say that name. Who was Greg? A coworker?
He willed his legs to keep moving. His stomach growled to remind him he had no business eavesdropping. Especially not when he was supremely annoyed at her for showing off her escape room skills. Seriously, what a niche kind of skill to get excited about.
Harper had more to offer the world than that. Why did she get so excited and worked up about everything? Her enthusiasm was exhausting. Just being around her made his pulse soar so severely he needed a nap.
He probably had too much caffeine already today, he told himself.
"Yep," she was saying in answer to a question from whoever Greg was. "Easy peasy. I even got to solve a puzzle, and I crushed it. Right. Well, the group I was with wasn't exactly made of brains…I know. I'll have it emailed to you in an hour…and thanks again for being so nice this morning. That made my first meeting go a lot easier."
When she hung up, all he could say was one word.
"Wow."
Harper whirled around to come face to chest with Dash. "What?"
"You think you're pretty smart now that you're a reporter and shit."
"I've always thought I was smart, but thanks for the reminder."
"Why do you gotta ruin everything?"
Harper reared back. "You're the one who insisted I be a part of your team, Einstein."
Dash had her backed into a recessed doorway in the alley.
"I heard the way you were talking on the phone to your boyfriend at the paper. You can collect all the signatures for whatever cause you want, but you don't actually give a shit about this neighborhood. And now you have a cushy job writing garbage news stories so you can sit back and collect a paycheck."
She blinked up at him and pulled her bulky scarf down. "That's quite a leap. First of all, you have no idea how difficult or easy it is to write this garbage. Second of all, you can't tell me the Crow Bar Brain Trust was going to get us out of that Sea Shanty room anytime this millennium."
He rolled his eyes and made a scoffing noise.
"If you guys would stop arguing for five minutes and work together, you might have done it. Individually you're all pretty smart guys. Together, you're a nightmare."
Dash glowered. "You're the nightmare."
"Fine, then let me pass." Harper lifted her chin.
"Fine," he spat.
Dash stepped aside and gestured toward the street. "Go on, then."
It was the hesitation that doomed him. She didn't go. Instead, she looked up at him with those flashing blue eyes. Her freckles stood out even more against her pink cheeks that were probably frozen in the winter air.
He caught a whiff of her scent, cinnamon and ginger.
"Fine," she said, but that time, her voice softened.
He seethed through his clenched teeth, "God, you're a pain in my ass."
When she didn't offer a smart retort, Dash latched a fleeting thought that maybe he'd hurt her feelings. He would regret it if he had. He watched her bite the inside of her lip, like she was thinking heavy thoughts. Her reddish eyebrows knitted together. Her body shivered. She needed to get out of the cold.
What was she waiting for? An engraved invitation?
She seemed to read his mind, judging by the way her eyes wandered from his eyes down his nose and landed for a brief second on his lips.
Why was she looking at him like that? When her eyes cast downward, her lashes curled up in his direction, almost like they taunted him.
Everything about her taunted him. From her pink cheeks to her reddish-brown freckles. From her red curls to her round little hips. The way Harper walked down the street every day past his house like she was on some kind of mission, to the way she spoke so fast that he couldn't follow half of what she said.
He needed her to leave.
"Well? Go then," he said, but all sharpness was gone from his voice.
She just stared back at him with narrowed eyes. Why wouldn't she leave?
He was giving her his coldest glare. She needed to know he wasn't going to put up with her busybody personality anymore. That was it. She could peddle her petitions—or reporters' notebooks, or whatever the fuck—elsewhere and leave him alone.
His entire life, she'd been there, chattering about one cause or another. Lecturing until everyone in the room, sapped of the will to live, grudgingly signed her petitions or agreed to vote for whoever she endorsed for school board.
Her eyes flashed as she looked up from his lips with real hurt in her eyes. "I'm only a pain in the ass because I feel things so deeply. Unlike you, who cares about nothing and nobody."
He barked a laugh. "You think I don't care about anybody?"
She blinked. "Not about anybody but yourself. Yes. That's what I'm saying."
He knew she was right. He cared about himself, his mom, his friends, and that was it. Maybe on some level, he cared about Holden's cats. But what she didn't know, what he didn't show, was that he cared enough to try to scare her away from getting herself in real trouble.
"You don't know the first thing about me," he said. "You're too busy talking even to make that claim."
Her head cocked to the side about one or two degrees. Not much, but she was then close enough that he noticed. "Oh really. What do you care about, Lynwood? I'd love to know."
Every time she teasingly used his real first name, he seethed. At that moment, his entire body lit up with an overheated sense of the need to shut her up.
He cleared his throat of the knot that lodged itself back there whenever Harper entered his prohibited airspace.
"I care about lots of things. First of all, that you're landing yourself in heaps of trouble if you think you're going to crack the missing girl case."
"I'm a big girl, Dash. You should know that."
He gritted his teeth. "You're not. Anybody could just grab you. Fuck, an oversized seagull could carry you off, and…" He forced himself to stop talking. They had both heard the weird tremble in his voice.
Her eyes widened slightly.
"I think you'd be surprised at my level of self-preservation. I don't take any unnecessary risks."
His voice cracked like a goddamn teenager. "Really?" Her face was too close. "No risks, at all?"
In the same moment, she lifted her chin, and Dash slanted his face down. His mind relinquished control of his body. Their lips came together in one fierce, spontaneous kiss.
Other than their mouths, their bodies stayed motionless. It was as if their lips had nothing left to spout at each other, and all that was left to do was kiss.
All of Dash's dark feelings for Harper exploded into downright greed and passion.
He'd had spent so much time trying to make her leave him alone, but at that moment, his soul and his body took a step beyond that into a whole other dark place. Anger morphed into passion. Hate into unspeakable lust.
The pressing of their lips lasted only seconds before their tongues slid against each other. This most obstinate woman's mouth tasted like coffee and cinnamon. Her turned-up nose felt frozen, and it tickled hi
s cheeks.
Dash refused to reach out and pull her closer. He refused to let her hear a gasp, a moan, a sigh. He would not release anything. He would not admit that she made him feel anything. He would not accept defeat. His mind was fully aware that this kiss was a mistake while it was happening.
A mistake not because it wasn't a great kiss, but because they couldn't stand each other.
You are oil and water. Get away from her. She's a nightmare, just like you said.
But her lips…her taste. Dash heard the little intake of breath and a sigh. Or was it a purr? His lips fit perfectly between hers. She kissed with the same energy that she rallied people to action. So earnest, he couldn't bear it.
Harper suctioned Dash's bottom lip into her mouth and smoothed her tongue across it, sending spikes of happy, horny hormones down into his belly. He pressed harder and backed her closer to the brick wall, deepening the kiss. She had to grab onto his coat to steady herself. Delving his tongue to the back of her throat, he felt her hands against his chest through the many layers of fabric. She hummed out a small whimper and stumbled backward. Dash broke the kiss and grabbed her elbows to steady her.
"Whoa," he said. "Easy."
She stared back at him, wide-eyed in shock. He smiled, and her face morphed back into its usual state of outrage.
She exclaimed, pushing past him, "Take it easy yourself, horndog!"
Dash watched her scurry away down the street, adjusting her messenger bag and straightening her hat and scarf.
He could hear her muttering to herself indignantly, all the way down the block. He watched her go until she safely crossed Church Street, opened the door to Cherry's All-Night Diner, and went inside.
Dash floated down three blocks past the bodega before he remembered that he'd forgotten all about that sandwich he'd wanted.
Chapter Four
Harper
* * *
She could have gone home or swung back to the office to write the story, but Harper's stomach growled, and Cherry's Diner had Wi-Fi.