Free Deviation by Heather Hildenbrand Page B

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.
    “There are no rats,” Linc repeats. Then to Obadiah, “Give me your flashlight.”
    Obadiah hands it over. “I’m surprised you didn’t bring your own. Aren’t you supposed to always be prepared? Like a boy scout?”
    “What’s a boy scout?” I ask. No one answers me.
    Linc clicks the button and the beam of light disappears. He hands it back. “You told us not to draw attention. That the floor vents sometimes run along the wall down here, remember?”
    “Oh. Right.” Obadiah shrugs and tucks the flashlight in the waistband of his pants. “I forgot.”
    Linc shakes his head before leading the way down the passage that veers left. “Come on,” he says, pulling me gently forward with our joined hands.
    We shuffle along in the darkness, single file, our feet sliding to find our way. I reach back and find Obadiah’s hand with my free one. He clings to it as we walk. When the passageway curves, I tug on Obadiah’s hand so he won’t run into the wall.
    Finally, we reach the door at the end. It’s covered in grime and there is no knob but I know it is a door because I’ve walked through it six times before today. Only six because, in order to come, my GPS must be redirected and with Titus constantly watching, that’s nearly impossible.
    I need something better than the scrambler. I have no idea what.
    Obadiah comes every few days. He updates me via text mostly, in a coded language we’ve developed. I don’t