Midnight Hero - By Diana Duncan Page 0,30
widened. “Glad to hear it. I’d hate to have to pound my brother or teammate.” He stroked a finger down her nose. “Our feelings are exploding because we’re emotionally connected. Crisis is forging our existing bond into a stronger link.”
She wasn’t so sure. Was bonding supposed to be so scary? So painful?
He consulted his watch again. “C’mon, sweetheart. Time to go upstairs.”
Ashamed of herself, she wrenched her attention back to the current dilemma. “How could we waste time kissing when the hostages are depending on us?”
“Don’t beat yourself up over it.” In one smooth movement, he stood and lifted her to her feet. “During an incident, timing is everything. Acting at exactly the right moment can mean the difference between live hostages and dead ones.” He glanced around the store. “I’ve got the situation under control. Now, we need to find something to start a fire.”
Her shame faded. She may have momentarily forgotten the hostages, but he hadn’t. Obviously, he could compartmentalize. A perfect complement to her photographic memory. The two of them were becoming a formidable team. If they could only work out their differences, they’d be unbeatable. “Other than the one we just ignited, you mean? I’m surprised we didn’t set off the sprinklers.”
“Too bad, because the cage on Harry’s Cigars lowered completely, and we can’t commandeer a lighter. I recall from my Boy Scout days rubbing two sticks together takes a damnably long time to get results.”
“Hmm.” She tapped her chin with her forefinger. “This is a furniture store, they must have tung or linseed oil around.”
They found several cans of linseed oil in the storeroom. She grinned at Con. “Great! This stuff will burn like crazy.”
“We still need a source of ignition.”
“Static electricity.” She grabbed a metal trash can and headed to the linen section. “We need a polyester thermal blanket. Ah, like this one.” She opened the package. “Watch and learn.” She vigorously rubbed two halves of the blanket together until they stuck, then rapidly separated them. Sparks crackled in the darkened showroom. “If nothing else, this will do in a pinch.”
Con laughed. “Ms. Wizard, I adore you.”
Glowing inside from his open admiration, she handed him the supplies. “When we get upstairs, if we pour the oil into the garbage can and create static, it should ignite the oil. Even the fumes are highly flammable. Linseed oil-soaked rags often spontaneously combust. It might take persistence, and we’ll have to be careful. It could flare up suddenly and burn us.”
“Maybe there’s a fire extinguisher.” He hurried behind the counter. “Got one!” He rummaged on the shelves beneath. “I wonder if there’s any duct tape? We’ll need to hang the sheets.”
She folded their SOS banners, and then collected their backpacks and the bats. “Is there?”
“Nope.” He picked up the trash can.
“We can look upstairs. If we don’t find any, I have an idea.”
His grin flashed again. “I’ll just bet you do.”
When they reached the furniture store’s mall entrance, he paused. “Getting up the escalators will be tricky. They’re in the central core, visible from all sides, and we’ll be vulnerable. Don’t silhouette yourself against the horizon, or a doorway—what we call a vertical coffin.” He shouldered his pack. “If it goes to hell, run, and don’t look back. I’ll make sure nobody follows you. Stick to the plan, summon help and then hide.”
There he went again, preparing her for the worst. Preparing to stand between her and the bad guys. She fought down roiling fear and squared her shoulders. Nothing and no one would separate them. Over her dead body.
She prayed it wouldn’t come to that.
The trip up the stilled escalators to the third floor was torturously long, agonizingly slow and the scariest experience of her life. But uneventful.
Con left her in a fabric store while he scouted out the sky bridge. She collected more items for her pack and waited anxiously for his return.
Mere minutes seemed like hours. Finally, he prowled into the store and gave her the all clear sign.
She hurried to his side. “Any trouble?”
“Nope. Did you find tape?”
“Only the craft type, and that won’t adhere to glass, at least not for long. Not with the temperature difference between outside and inside creating condensation.”
“You mentioned an idea?”
“Silly Putty will stick to both the glass and the sheet. Moisture won’t affect it.”
“The way your brain works floors me.”
“Is that good or bad?”
“Good.” He winked. “You definitely trip my trigger, baby.”
She batted her lashes at him in mock flirtation. Teasing him was a good way to