Dustin had given the kids handfuls of tokens and they’d run off to play. Teri had plugged in her phone to charge, then settled the sleeping Parker onto a few big bags of rice, creating a makeshift bed for her.

And then it was just the two of them, sitting next to each other on the counter.

“Some night, eh?” Dustin asked.

Teri nodded, with a short laugh. “I can’t thank you enough for all the help. But I don’t want to get you in trouble.”

“What was I supposed to do, leave you there?” He shook his head. “I couldn’t leave behind the prettiest girl I’d ever seen—” Dustin stopped short, his face turning red. “I mean… I was worried about the kids. That’s all.”

Teri blushed. “Well, I think we’re just lucky we ran into you.”

“Maybe I’m the lucky one.”

Teri looked into his dazzling eyes and her heart beat hard—but for the first time all night, not because something was going terribly wrong. Because something was going right. “I really should figure out a plan,” she said, even as she felt a force, like gravity, drawing her closer to Dustin.

“A plan,” he echoed, his eyes fixed on hers, the space between them growing smaller and smaller. “We should totally get one of those.”

Teri smiled and he brushed her hair back gently. In that moment, it felt like maybe everything tonight—all of it—had happened so that she could be right here, with this boy. And maybe nothing else mattered. She tilted her head to the side, and so did he. They were just a breath apart. She closed her eyes—

BAM BAM BAM!

They both jumped—someone was pounding on the front door. Teri gasped. She squinted through the darkness, thankful the door was locked.

“We’re closed,” Dustin called as he slid off the counter.

The figure outside paused—then kicked the door so hard wood went flying, and the door came off its hinges.

The figure stepped through what remained of the door. He was tall, mid-thirties, Black, wearing a suit. He glanced back at the mess he’d made and shrugged. “Sorry. I didn’t have time to wait around.”

“Who are you?” Teri demanded, trying her best to sound brave.

The man reached into his pocket and pulled out a badge, flipping it open. “Damon Gilroy,” he said, snapping it closed again. “CIA.”

CHAPTER 21

Stevie

Beckett?” I asked. I mean, obviously it was him. But what was he doing here? “What are you doing here?”

“Please enjoy your Josephine’s experience,” the hostess said warmly, clearly choosing to ignore whatever was happening right now, and then hurrying away.