Wrong Place, Right Time - Elle Casey Page 0,17

glare at her. “Are you serious? You can’t possibly be that dense, May.”

She frowns at me. “Dense? That’s kind of harsh, don’t you think?”

I shake my head at her, thoroughly disappointed. “I have no idea what’s happened to your attitude in this place, but I don’t like it. Unfortunately, I don’t have time to debate it with you right now because I have less than forty hours before my kids are back, and I’ll be damned if I’m going to let you ruin it for me.”

May’s face falls. “You really think I’m ruining your weekend?”

I throw up my free hand and let it fall down to slap my thigh. “Are you kidding me, May? I’ve been locked in a panic room for almost an hour with a giant, sweaty ninja guy!”

“How do you know he’s a ninja guy? Did he show you his swords?”

My eyes bug out of my head. I don’t even know what to make of this statement. She can’t be serious.

May continues. “Listen, Jenny, I know you’re upset, but it’s only because you don’t really know what happened. And getting locked in the panic room was a mistake. It’s all just a bunch of little misunderstandings. I promise, it’s going to be fine. And the job hasn’t changed. We still need you, and I think this is going to be something really easy for you, because you’re so smart with computers and everything.”

“Do not try to flatter me, May. You know that doesn’t work with me.”

“Since when? I flatter you all the time to get my way.”

I sigh. “You’re not going to wear me down with your silliness, either. Not this time. I have to go. Call me later.”

I turn around and start walking in the direction that I think will take me to the front door. After a couple turns down some hallways, the cubicles come into view, telling me I’m on the right track. As I pass the last one, someone approaches from the opposite direction. I slow, but don’t feel nervous about who this stranger might be, because I sense May coming up behind me and she’s not yelling at me to run.

“May, is that you?” the man asks.

“Yes, Thibault, it’s me and my sister, Jenny. Have you guys met yet?”

As the man draws nearer, I get a better view of his face. He’s just a little bit taller than I am, with very dark hair, and he’s wearing black cowboy boots, jeans, and a tight black T-shirt with the sleeves rolled up a little. I’m pretty sure there’s not an ounce of body fat anywhere on him. He’s more compact than Ozzie, but no less intimidating. It’s a good thing he’s smiling so much, or I might worry that he’s the guy planning to steal things from the mysterious lockers in the panic room.

“No, I haven’t had the pleasure yet.” He stops in front of me and holds out a hand. “Nice to meet you, Jenny.”

I take his hand because I don’t want to be rude, even though he’s slowing down my exit. “Nice to meet you too.”

Thibault looks over my shoulder at my sister. “She’s angry, huh?”

“Yes, just a little. I was trying to explain to her that it’s really no big deal, and that she can still do the work for us and then go home to enjoy her weekend, but she doesn’t want to listen.”

Thibault’s smile fades and his expression turns serious. “I’m not so sure that’s such a good idea.”

I look over my shoulder at my sister. “See? I told you. I’m going home.” I move to go around Thibault, but he sidesteps to block my progress.

His smile is apologetic now. “If you could just hold off on leaving for a minute, I think Ozzie would like to talk to you.” He nods at something behind me.

“Well, if Ozzie wants to talk to me, he can call me on my cell. I have somewhere I need to be.”

As I take another step forward, Thibault holds out an arm. I stop in my tracks and look down at the offending limb. What in the heck does he think he’s doing?

“Hey, Ozzie! You want to come over here and discuss the situation with May’s sister?”

I turn around, and the sight of Ozzie and Dev striding through the darker cubicle area toward us has me hesitating. They look like storm troopers or something, the way they walk in tandem with their shoulders swaying forward and back, forward and back.

Be still, my heart.

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