“Yo. What’s going on at the window?” Boone asks as he follows my gaze.
Reece looks over at us. Eyes lit. “Guys, you won’t believe this. This girl is jogging topless down the street. Big jugs. Prettiest ones I’ve ever seen.”
Boone bolts to the window and nearly falls, steadies himself, then peers out the window. “Where? I don’t see her.”
I dart over and place my hand on his head, rubbing it. “I pass the puck!”
He struggles and tries to push my hand off, then lets loose with a long stream of curses, then grunts. “Jesus Christ on a bike! You’ve got to be kidding me. I invented the lookey-loo. That’s low down.”
“Boone has the puck,” I announce with glee as I shimmy across the den.
“Concur,” we all say.
A few minutes later, I pull my truck into a spot outside an escape room called Get Out or Die.
Boone frowns as we exit the vehicle. “I heard there was an ambulance here the day it opened. Hopefully they got that issue fixed.”
I smirk. “They probably paid the city to have the EMTs park out front and make a scene.”
We walk inside, and his face puckers as he takes in an Egyptian mummy tomb on one side of the room and a dungeon scene on the other. “Um, whose idea was this?”
“Mine,” I say. “Don’t shit on it.”
Reece shrugs. “I’m just along for the thrills.”
Three girls come out crying from one of the hallways. “Don’t do it,” they tell us. “It’s so scary!”
I smirk.
“I sense bad juju,” Boone mutters under his breath, watching as the girls exit and run to their car.
“Pussy,” Reece tells him.
Boone shrugs. “Look, I’m from Chicago, and when we sense bad vibes, it’s real. Say what you want, but small-town folk do weird shit. Ever watch Mind Hunters? It’s all gravel roads, corn fields, quarries, and lakes.”
“We’re in a shopping center,” I say with an eyebrow arch.
A man with black hair and pale skin rises from behind the desk. He’s wearing a tux with a red lined cape.
“Good evening,” he drawls in a bad Transylvanian accent.
Reece bursts out laughing, then reins it in at the seriousness on the man’s face.
Boone glares at the fake vampire, and I have to bite my lip to keep in the mirth. I can add vampires to the list of things Boone doesn’t like.
“Hansen, party of three,” I say.
He swishes his cape. “Of course. You will be paired with the Fab party. My assistant will be—”
“Wait, we’re with another group?” I ask.
He nods. “Our rooms are difficult and require at least six participants. My assistant will be—”
“Hello, darlings!” says a familiar accented voice. “Looks like you’re with us. We’re the Fab party.”
I turn and it’s Taylor and Poppy, which means . . .
The mummy case opens and Julia’s inside, her red lips curled in a smile as she pops out at Poppy—who screams.
Julia bends over giggling, her face lit with happiness. She’s wearing black leggings and a pink oversized sweater with yellow Converse. Her mink-colored hair swings around her face as she smiles.
Something twinges in my chest.
Relief. Joy.
Fuck, she looks gorgeous.
“Oh, hi,” she says uncertainly when she sees me.
“Hi.”
She glances at Taylor. “Are we with them?”
Taylor nods, then waves his hand dramatically at the vampire behind the desk. “Carry on, sir. We’re ready to go.”
“Igor, there you are! Please show our guests to their room,” the vampire says as a tall man limps in from a back hallway. He’s dressed in dirty brown clothes with a hunch on his back. He drags one foot behind him.
“They go all out, huh?” I say to Boone and he narrows his eyes.
“I don’t like this freaky shit.”
I slap him on the back. “Come on, it’ll be fun.”
“Says every person right before they do something stupid,” he mutters. “If there are roaches in here, I’m out.”
We stop to leave our phones in a basket as Igor leads us to a room. He pulls out a key ring, runs through the rules, and says other stuff, but I’m barely listening as I watch Julia.
She’s gazing around at the hallway, a half-smile on her face.
My throat thickens, prickling with feelings I don’t understand.
Igor unlocks our door with a key shaped like a bat.