Finding Monica Excerpt

Monica lashed out so quickly, Pid was unprepared. She jerked her hand out of his and hissed, “Don’t touch me!”

Pid held up his hands in surrender. “I’m sorry.”

“I mean it. No one touches my hand. No one.”

He nodded. “I’m sorry again.”

They stared at each other for a heated moment before Monica dropped her gaze, her cheeks flushed once more.

“I was just trying to help you grab hold of my waistband again.”

“You don’t have to manhandle me. All you have to do is use your words,” she said caustically.

Surprisingly, her words and tone didn’t turn Pid off. But he didn’t dare smile. He had a feeling she’d incorrectly assume he was laughing at her. He wasn’t; that last statement just sounded as if she was talking to one of her kids. He wasn’t seven, but she had a good point.

“You’re right. Sorry. Please grab hold of me again, Monica. I need to know you’re at my heels at all times.”

She stared at him with a look of confusion.

“What?” he asked.

“I just— You apologized.”

It was Pid’s turn to be confused. “Yeah. I shouldn’t have grabbed you like that. Especially since I don’t know you. Hasn’t anyone ever told you they were sorry after doing something they shouldn’t have?” He meant his question to be lighthearted, but when she didn’t immediately roll her eyes and say “of course”…he realized perhaps no one had ever apologized to her.

“It doesn’t matter,” she mumbled. “Can we go? The last thing I want is to end up in the middle of a crazed mob.” She reached out her right hand and lightly took hold of his belt once more.

There was so much Pid wanted to say at that moment, so many questions he wanted to ask, but she was right. They needed to get off the streets and to safety. He headed in the direction Monica had indicated and quickly caught up to Slate, who’d been not so patiently waiting for them.

“If I’d known you were going to stop to have a chat, I would’ve left your ass,” Slate grumbled.

Pid shook his head. “Always so impatient,” he chided.

“Whatever,” Slate said under his breath.

The threesome continued through the streets, moving away from any sounds of crowds before finally arriving at the back of a dark cinderblock building. It was on the edge of the upscale neighborhood, and with one glance, Pid knew it would be the perfect place to hole up for a while.

There were scraggly looking weeds all around the building and most of the glass in the windows had long since been broken out. The doors were missing and the vibe of the place was actually quite creepy.

“Kids come here to play?” Slate asked in disbelief.

To Pid’s surprise, Monica actually looked amused. “That’s what I thought the first time I saw it. But when you want to play soccer and the weather’s crappy, it’s pretty perfect.”

“I bet it’s haunted,” Slate said.

“Now that you mention it, I did hear strange noises when I was here, but I dismissed them,” Monica said.

The look on Slate’s face was priceless. Monica obviously thought so too, because she giggled. The woman actually giggled. Pid didn’t even care that he wasn’t the one to make her laugh. He was too blown away by how the smile on her face changed her whole countenance. And for the first time, he realized she had a dimple in one cheek.

A fucking dimple.

Fuck. He was such a sucker for dimples.

“Shit, woman, please tell me you’re kidding,” Slate begged.

“I’m kidding,” Monica said obediently, but it was clear she was humoring him.

An explosion from a street over spurred them into action. Slate immediately entered the menacing-looking building, with Pid and Monica at his heels.

“Which way?” Slate asked.

Pid heard Monica’s subtle snort before she said, “You’re asking me? You’re the big bad Navy SEALs.”

He couldn’t help but smile. There was that prickly attitude. He didn’t think her lightheartedness would last, and he’d been right.

“A big bad Navy SEAL who’s never been in here. You have. Which way?” Slate asked again, no irritation evident in his tone.

“There are a bunch of boxes to the left. Last time I was here, checking to make sure the local kids were all right, I saw a young boy who wasn’t playing soccer making a fort with them,” Monica said.

Without another word, the threesome headed that way.

Monica had been right. The old factory building was a perfect temporary hiding spot. Rioters would have no interest in the place because it was abandoned, nothing of value inside for them to steal. Their attention was focused on the houses of the government workers.

Within five minutes, Pid and Slate had rearranged the empty boxes to give all three of them space to sit, protected from being seen at first glance if someone decided to enter the building. They wouldn’t be protected from bullets, but Pid was fairly confident they were safe from that sort of threat at the moment.