A Colby Christmas. Debra Webb
maybe Santa would be dropping by her house tomorrow night.
She couldn’t worry about Brad Gibson’s dependability just now. They had to hide. Someplace these guys wouldn’t think to look in a million years. All she needed was a couple of years herself to figure out where that would be.
Inspiration nudged at her. She looked up. Those big rectangular acoustical tiles that indicated the ceiling was dropped somewhat below where it could be. She thought about how high the ceiling was in the lobby, then considered this one. There had to be large space up there above those tiles. There always was in the movies.
She pointed up. “How about up there?”
He considered her suggestion for a long moment, the muscles of his neck flexing as he studied the ceiling. She wondered if he’d been born with that healthy color or if he’d bought it at a local tanning spa.
“You could be on to something.”
She blinked. Scolded herself for thinking about the tanned skin stretched over those toned muscles. To say this wasn’t the time might be a cliché, but this definitely wasn’t the time.
“Let’s have a look up there.” He angled his head toward the stalls and moved in that direction.
She followed him to the very last one. Since it was handicapped accessible there was plenty of room for both of them to be in the stall at once. And the toilet had a higher profile, which would facilitate what came next.
As she watched, Gibson closed the lid and climbed up onto the toilet. He reached overhead and pushed the nearest tile up and out of its designated slot. Climbing up through the opening he’d made would be the challenge. She estimated that Gibson was six or six-one. The ceiling was about nine feet off the floor, higher than the eight feet in her apartment but not quite as high as the ten in her parents’ living room back home. The handicap accessible toilet sat up about two feet. Reaching the tile hadn’t been a problem. All she could say was she hoped he had some good upper body strength to pull himself up there.
Gibson braced one foot on the large pipe at the back of the toilet that provided the handle for flushing. Pushing off from that foot, he reached for the open space and grabbed hold of something she couldn’t see from where she stood. He just kind of hung there with that one foot braced on the plumbing for a second then he raised everything above his shoulders through the opening. She would bet he’d won the medal in the presidential fitness competition every year in school for chin-ups. She’d always stunk at those.
He eased back down onto the closed lid before stepping down to rejoin her on the floor.
“Steel beams,” he explained. “They’re fairly wide, eight inches maybe. We can use those for a path. There’s a whole maze of them up there.” He thought for a moment. “We can follow the beams to any of the rooms on this level, including the elevator shafts.”
“So we can hide up there?” The idea that hiding from those evil men might be that simple sent relief plummeting through her.
He nodded. “I think so.”
“Can we stand up or is this going to be a crawling thing?” That thought deflated her hopes somewhat.
He visually measured her height. “You might manage it. I’ll have to hunker over.”
Didn’t sound comfortable for him. But hey, this was every man for himself. To a degree anyway.
“So, are you game?”
If he meant was she going to do it, damn straight. “Let’s do it.”
He gestured to the toilet. “I’ll give you a boost.”
It wasn’t until she stepped up onto the closed toilet lid that she considered another aspect of the situation.
She fixed Gibson with a warning glare. “If you look up my skirt, I’ll kick you in the face.” Boots or no boots that wouldn’t be pleasant.
His only external reaction to her hostile warning was to blink. “I won’t look up your skirt.”
She tugged at her skirt, wanted it down as far as it would go. “See that you don’t.”
He climbed up next to her. The toilet lid creaked under the added weight. The feel of his body positioned so close behind hers added another layer of tension to the moment.
She closed her eyes and steadied herself. She just wanted to get out of this alive. Him, too, she added.
“I’m going to lift you up,” he murmured close to her hair. “Don’t try to fight me. Just reach for the beam and pull yourself up. I’ll give you plenty of help from down here.”
Elaine took a breath. “Okay. I’m ready.”
But she wasn’t.
His hands closed around her waist and he lifted her as if she weighed nothing at all. Amazing. This guy had to do some serious working out.
“Grab onto the beam anytime.”
The strained sound of his voice snapped her back to attention.
“Oh, sorry.”
She spotted the beam and grabbed hold. Never an athlete, her upper body strength was pathetic, but she pulled with all her might. He had her by the feet now and was providing resistance for her to launch off of.
He had to be looking up her skirt.
Heat singed her cheeks.
Her legs were apart…the skirt was hiked up to the tops of her thighs at this point. If he weren’t looking it would only be because his eyes were closed.
Despite her best efforts to focus on pulling up into the cavernous area above the ceiling, she had to look down.
Incredibly, his eyes were closed.
Impressed, she towed herself up onto the beam, straddling it as though it were a long skinny horse.
She looked around. Lots of wires. Acres of steel beams. And too damned many shadowy areas for comfort. Could be worse, since there were places where it was completely dark and the few emergency lights couldn’t cover the entire space.
“Move it!”
She almost jumped at the harshly uttered command. “Gimme a minute.” She had to get her bearings.
To avoid scraping her thighs along the beam, she got up on all fours and moved carefully away from the opening. She could probably stand up but she just wasn’t ready for that yet.
He grabbed hold of the beam and pulled himself up and onto it as if he’d been climbing mountains his entire life and this was nothing.
“What now?” Was she supposed to sit there or did he want her to move farther along the beam?
“Let me get this back into place.” He slipped the rectangular tile back into its slot on the grid system that supported the dropped ceiling.
The whole thing looked damned shaky to her. Not like these steel beams.
“Should we—”
He held up a hand, silencing her.
Even in the near darkness she saw him tense.
And then she heard it.
Below, the bathroom door whooshed shut.
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