Stranded with a Billionaire (Billionaire Boys Club #1)(10)

The elevator was feeling a bit oppressive now, and her arms were beginning to ache from holding the doors open. It wasn’t that they were hard to hold apart, but she was exhausted, thirsty, and starving. And a little terrified.

Okay, a lot terrified.

Time creeped past, every minute ticking by in slow motion. It seemed like forever before Logan returned, and she nearly sobbed in relief when she caught sight of him below. He set up a short ladder, then grasped the doors at the bottom, keeping them apart.

“You’re going to have to slide down between my arms,” he told her. “Get on your stomach and lower your legs first.”

She nodded. “Gotcha. Can I let go now?”

“Let go.”

She did, holding her breath for a moment as she released the doors. Then she hesitated. If she shimmied down, she was going to more or less shove her ass in his face. “Maybe I should get dressed first—”

“Just come on!”

“Well, then close your eyes!”

“I’m not going to close my eyes, Bront?. Just come on already. I can’t hold this forever. The hurricane’s almost on us.”

She hesitated for a moment more, but a crash from outside decided her. Biting her lip, she tossed her bag and clothes out of the elevator ahead of her and then slid her legs out of the hole. When she was about halfway out, she began to have visions of the power coming back on and the elevator slicing her in half, and she rushed to slide completely out, not caring that her behind might have brushed against his face or that her wiggling feet couldn’t find a toehold.

“Just drop,” he told her after a moment.

She did, and collapsed to the floor. Her leg scraped along the ladder as she fell, and she smacked onto the ground with a thud that knocked the breath out of her.

But they were out of the elevator. Thank heavens, they were out of the elevator.

“You okay?” Logan moved to her side, his hands running lightly over her nak*d limbs, checking for breaks. “You’re bleeding.”

“Just a scratch. Something broke the skin when I slid. I’ll be fine.” She sat up, grimacing, and allowed him to help her to her feet. The air was muggy and hot. “What about the hurricane?”

“Sounds like it’s getting worse.”

“Should we go to the basement? Something?”

“Not the basement. The front lobby’s already flooding with water. We need someplace safe.” He glanced around. “Someplace with no windows that is off the ground.”

“A stairwell?” she suggested.

He nodded and grabbed her hand, dragging her with him. “Come on. I think the stairs are this way.”

Surprised that he would grab her hand, Bront? followed him, staring in openmouthed horror at their surroundings as they ran. The hotel looked as if it had been ransacked. Furniture was overturned; papers and pamphlets were strewn everywhere. Doors hung open as if the occupants had simply forgotten to close them in their haste to leave. They raced past the lobby, and Bront? gasped, her steps slowing.

It was flooded. An inch of water had crept across the floor, and more was pouring in by the large glass doors. Large, broken glass doors. A quick glance outside showed that the skies were a sickly gray-green, and the closest tree was nearly sideways in the wind. Fear tightened her throat.

“You can sightsee later,” Logan told her harshly, tugging on her hand. “Come on.”

They ran down one corridor, then another. Every crack she heard from outside made her heart race, and she was in a near panic by the time they got to the stairwell. Logan flung the doors open and pushed her inside, and she raced up the flight of stairs to pause, breathing heavily, at the landing where they twisted to the next level. It was dark and shadowy, the only light coming from the small, square window of the stairwell door.

“Stay there,” Logan said. When she began to protest, he raised a hand. “I’ll be right back. I’m just going to check something out.”

Bront? slumped to the ground, clutching her bag. She was too winded to bother to put her clothes on now, and too freaked out to do more than stare at the door. What if Logan got trapped out there? What if he didn’t come back for her? What if she was going to be stranded in this hurricane alone?

A gust of wind boomed overhead, followed by a crack of a palm tree snapping so loud that she jumped. She didn’t like being in the darkness alone. Not one bit. What if the stairwell collapsed in the storm?

To her relief, Logan returned a few minutes later carrying blankets and pillows and a small trash bag. She must have looked a bit shocked, because he immediately dropped everything and climbed the stairs to kneel next to her.

“You okay?” His voice was soft, protective. His fingers brushed her cheek.

She nodded, managing a trembling smile. “I think the noise is messing with my head. Marcus Aurelius said that ‘It is not death that a man should fear, but he should fear never beginning to live.’ Except I don’t think he ever went through a hurricane. I almost prefer the elevator.”

“I don’t,” Logan said. “Wait here. I picked up a few things for us.”

He headed back down the stairs to where he’d dropped his haul and then moved it all up to the landing, displaying none of the sheer exhaustion that Bront? was feeling. As she watched in the low light, he offered her a pillow and then a blanket.