Deviation (Clone Chronicles #2)(20)
Now I have the scrambler. Linc made me promise not to use it unless absolutely necessary. He’s programmed it to redirect instead. “Remember how Williams ran in all crazy-eyed when he thought he lost you? Yeah, scrambling does that. We don’t want to alert the cavalry. Only divert them.”
I agreed and let him do the fancy finger swiping—but only if he promised to show me the workings of the device later. For now, I’m just glad we were able to get away. Linc’s already told me this may be the last time for a while. Whatever’s happening with the new security head isn’t good, judging by his tone. There is plenty he’s not saying but, right now, I am more concerned with getting here and getting home safe.
I use my stick like a cane, lightly tapping the floor and wall as I shuffle forward. I don’t like the darkness here. I don’t like darkness anywhere. It feels too unpredictable. Darkness, like memory, is the sort of thing people disappear into and never surface from again.
After my previous trips navigating this tunnel, I should be accustomed to the pressing blackness. The dampness. The slimy walls and squeaky rodents I imagine scampering around at my feet. But it’s still just as terrifying as the first time Obadiah brought me here. I wish there was a better hiding place for them, but, so far, I haven’t found one.
I fumble for Linc’s hand and slip my fingers through his, pulling them tight until we’re hooked securely together. Linc squeezes once, and I am reassured enough to press on. “Ready?” he asks.
“Ready,” I say.
“Let’s go.”
We move slowly, dragging our feet to detect any change in the floor. My shoes, black ankle boots that lace up the side, scuff louder than Linc’s. I scowl at the sound—and that my wardrobe is not exactly ideal for a covert outing.
Two right turns and a low overhang of metal piping later, Linc stops. There is the slightest bit of shadowed light filtering from the path that veers left before abruptly disappearing. It’s enough to create a silhouette of Linc’s features. He hovers in front of me, his body language protective even in the absence of danger.
“Why are we stopping?” I ask, breathless from anxiety and Linc’s proximity. Now that I can see him, my senses are on alert and I am aware of how close—and how alone—we are down here in the depths of the warehouse district.
In answer, Linc leans forward and cups my cheeks with his hands. His mouth hovers less than a breath away and he whispers, “I just wanted a minute alone with you.” His lips brush the edges of my mouth. “Is that all right?”
I nod and wait, mouth open and eyes closed, for our lips to connect. When they do, it sends a ripple of pleasure through me. A small noise escapes me and Linc deepens the kiss. I am lost in a sea of passion and disbelief that these feelings are mine to experience. Linc’s tongue slips out to trace the inside of my lip and my knees weaken. I wrap my arms around his shoulders for support and lean into him. I could kiss him forever and the miracle of it would still never grow old.
His mouth leaves mine to trail kisses across my cheek. “Linc …” I whisper. His hands drift lower, cupping my hips. His mouth dips to my neck and finds its way to the space just below my ear. I shiver.
“God, I love the way you feel in my arms,” he murmurs.
I offer silent agreement in the form of more kisses.
A noise from the hallway startles us. Footsteps echo and, a second later, a beam of light bounces into view, lighting up the passageway. I freeze and my breath hitches. Linc turns to face the approaching light while staying pressed against me. I strain to see around him to identify the newcomer. His bright purple scarf around his neck and the piercing eyes stand out against the shadows his flashlight beam creates.
“Obadiah,” I say, my relief audible.
His brows furrow as he takes in the sight of us. I realize my blouse is crooked. I straighten it hastily, my relief turning to embarrassment. Obadiah shakes his head. “You two need to get a room. And not,” he adds when Linc opens his mouth, “a basement passageway.” Linc closes his mouth again.
I smile and slip out from behind Linc to hug Obadiah. “Did you have any trouble?” I ask. “I thought you were already inside.”
“Parking was kind of a bitch,” he said. “I had to find some place the employees wouldn’t spot my car and somebody parked their motorcycle horizontally in the only alley with a double exit.” He shoots Linc a crooked glance.
“Sorry.” Linc shrugs. “Faster getaway.”
“Exactly,” Obadiah says pointedly.
“Are we going in now or what?” Linc asks.
Obadiah grins. “Are you two done making out among the rats?”
“Rats?” I repeat, my eyed widening. “Did you see one?” I glance around at our feet but, aside from the damp concrete and thick layer of grime, I don’t see anything.
“Don’t listen to him, Ven,” Linc says, taking my hand. “There aren’t any rats here or we would’ve seen them by now.”
Obadiah snorts. “I’ve heard enough from my father’s employees that work above us to know you’re wrong. What do you think keeps them from ever coming down to these tunnels?”
I squeeze Linc’s hand a little tighter. Rats are disgusting. I know because we had one in the shower room in Twig City once. It bit a girl and she almost died from some infection the animal carried. The thought of something small and furry and deadly running across my foot puts me on edge.