Thin Lines (The Child Thief #3)(75)

“You first, me second,” I said quietly, taking a step back.

He gave me a single nod, pulled the door open wider, and stuck his head through it slowly, turning his gaze first one way and then the other. He brought one hand up behind his back, extended all five fingers, and started counting down. Five, four, three, two, one…

Then he darted through the door, and I went right after him. I could hear the shuffling of bodies after me, and assumed everyone else was coming as well, and then we were darting right through another doorway and into the kitchen.

This kitchen was nearly as big as the one we’d seen in the Authority’s compound, and I had a sudden sense of déjà vu.

“Why exactly are we always running from Authority soldiers and finding ourselves in kitchens?” I muttered, moving past the large marble island in the middle and searching the wall for a door that might lead into the basement. This kitchen seemed to be made up of windows more than anything else, as if it was an extension on the house or something, and I was just thinking that I must have guessed wrong when I noticed another hallway leading out of the far corner. I darted for it, tripping on a barstool in my haste to get past, and a second later I’d found exactly what I was searching for.

A door that screamed basement. Even in a house this big and fancy, they hadn’t bothered to make this door attractive. After all, it only led to the basement—the place to store your bags of potatoes and Christmas decorations. Maybe the lawnmower that you didn’t want to keep in the garage. The door was a utilitarian gray, the paint matte and unattractive.

It looked exactly like the door to the basement at home, and I felt abruptly sick to my stomach—and more homesick than I could have imagined possible. I hadn’t seen that door in two years. The last time I’d seen it, I’d just returned from summer camp at the lake, and had been taking my luggage down to the basement for storage. I’d had the most exciting, freedom-filled summer of my life, and my head had been full of sunshine and warmth. I’d been positive that I was in love with Henry, and was picturing some sort of spring wedding with daisies as the flower.

I hadn’t yet known that I was pregnant. I hadn’t yet known that life as I knew it was about to end abruptly, with the only father I’d ever known actually shooting my boyfriend.

I shook my head firmly, jerking myself out of the memory, and put out a hand to shove the door open. I had to get myself under control, mentally, or I was going to get us all caught.

The door opened into an extremely dark stairway, and I yanked my phone out of my pocket, hit the flashlight function, and darted forward. If this basement was like any other basement, then the only light was downstairs, no doubt a single bulb hanging from a length of twine. People just didn’t put money into fancy lighting for such an unimportant room.

We slid and scrambled down the stairs, the seven of us running into each other and getting tangled up in the dark, and I was surprised when we got to the bottom of the staircase without falling. I shoved my phone up in front of me and shone the flashlight around the room, looking desperately for the hanging lightbulb I was sure had to be there somewhere, and four other phones lit up to help me look. Then the place was suddenly flooded with light.

I jerked to the side and turned my eyes to the wall, certain we’d been caught, to see Jackie standing there looking at us like we were all idiots.

“Normal people look for light switches on the walls,” she hissed. “Have you guys lost your minds?”

Her eyes roved scornfully over us, then went past me … and widened in shock.

“Oh God!” she breathed. “Would you look at that?”

I whirled around, terrified that she’d found something awful, and nearly fell over when I saw what she was talking about.

Fifteen sleek black motorcycles sat in a row against the far wall of the basement, their matte black paint sucking the light up, their chrome edging reflecting it back at us. They were absolutely gorgeous—and looked completely deadly.

And Jace was right. They were about five million times better than the scooters we’d arrived on.

They also each had a helmet propped up on the seat, and I didn’t have to try mine on to know it would be a perfect fit. Somehow, Corona would have known that. She’d guessed at exactly what we’d need and supplied it.

I couldn’t wait to get to a safe place and start to pick that woman’s brain.

“I guess your contact came through for you after all,” Ant said, his voice awed. “Oh my God, are those really for us?”

A clatter of pans falling was his only answer, and we all jerked back into movement.

“Hell, they’re in the kitchen,” Jackie hissed, rushing toward the motorcycles. “Whether these are here for us or not, we’ve got to go. If they belong to someone else, they’re going to have to deal with us borrowing them for a bit.”

We each raced to a bike, and I found the keys already in the ignition of the one I’d chosen. I looked up at Jace to find that he was holding a hand up, telling us to wait.

“Helmets on. We all start them at the exact same time, and not until we know how to get out of here,” he said sharply. “The minute they hear these engines, those agents are going to know that we’re down here. I don’t want them figuring it out until we’re on our way up and out.”

We all slid the helmets onto our heads and then turned and stared around us, looking desperately for the door. Surely there was a door here somewhere.