BEFORE WE FALL: Tucker & Miranda by Aurora Rose Reynolds

Author:Aurora Rose Reynolds [Reynolds, Aurora Rose]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 0101-01-01T00:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER TWENTY-FOUR

miranda

With a mass of tangled-up butterflies in the pit of my stomach, I drive down a dimly lit street with train tracks that are blocked off by a tall metal fence on one side, and on the other is a somewhat sketchy-looking industrial building that seems to be under construction.

Pulling over to the curb between cars, I click on the text that Tucker sent me to make sure I didn’t mess it up when I was putting his address into my GPS app. I didn’t. I bite my lip and glance around, wondering if Tucker isn’t who I thought he was. Or if maybe he’s a detective by day and a serial killer by night, who lures the unsuspecting women he’s charmed to abandoned buildings, where he kills them.

I start to put the engine in drive so I can pull away from the curb with a plan to call Tucker, but I end up screaming at the top of my lungs like I’m being murdered when suddenly there is a knock on my window.

“It’s just me,” Tucker says through the glass, and with my heart pounding, I focus on his face. “I didn’t mean to scare you.” He opens my door, and I look at the building, then back at him.

“This is where you live?”

“Mostly.”

“Are you homeless?” I frown at him, and his lips curve up into a smile.

“No.”

“So you live in an abandoned building, and you’re not homeless?”

“It’s not abandoned. The outside electric work is being done while Clay and Willow are out of town. That’s why it’s dark out here.” He reaches across me and unhooks my belt. “I have dinner on the stove.”

“I…” I start to say I’m getting serious serial-killer vibes from this situation, but instead, I gasp when he drags me out of the car by my hand, then reaches in for my bag and to shut off the engine.

“Ready?”

“Tucker—”

“I didn’t have a chance to go to the store.” He slams the door to my car, cutting me off, and places his hand on my lower back, steering me toward the building. “But I had the shit to make lemon chicken in the fridge.”

“You made lemon chicken?” I get distracted, which is stupid, especially when he leads me out of the light from the setting sun and into the dark interior of the building.

“Put this on.” He passes me a plastic hard hat, and I do as asked, now understanding why so many women die in horror movies. Especially when I look around and see plastic sheeting hanging down, and walls are being framed and plastered.

“Tucker—,” I try again, but once more, he cuts me off.

“The elevator is just over here.” He keeps a tight hold on my hand as he leads me across the space, and when we reach the metal doors, he holds up his phone to a pad on the side, and they slide open immediately. The inside of it is the total opposite of the dusty, dirty building, with red carpet and gold-outlined mirrors that surround the interior.

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