Code Of Silence. Heather Woodhaven

pulled out a canister of pepper spray, his expression hopeful. “You think this still works?”

      She reached past his outstretched arms and picked up a granola bar. “Check the expiration date.”

      He twisted the can and squinted at the small print. “Three years old.”

      “Then, no.”

      He gave her a side glance. “I can’t imagine it wouldn’t still be effective even after the expiration date.”

      “Oh, it’d still be potent, but that’s not the problem. It’s the aerosol spray part. After the expiration, there is a higher probability it’ll get clogged.” She opened the wrapper to the bar. “Not worth the risk. The last thing we need is to pepper spray ourselves.”

      She could feel his eyes studying her. “How’d you know that?” he asked.

      “Mom sent me with pepper spray to college. She never did anything without making sure she had all the facts. She was the queen of preparation, and she made sure I was, as well.” The metal screeching sound started up again. She jerked and accidentally brushed against his arm. The touch made her long for a hug, but she didn’t want to send mixed signals—or worse, open herself up for rejection. No doubt he was wishing she’d never stepped into his office. “Clock is ticking, Luke. We need to get out of here.”

      “I’m aware.” He ran a hand through his still-damp golden hair. It spiked up. “I’ve checked the walls and the tops of the shelves. I don’t know what else we can do.”

      Her stomach grew hot and heavy as if her veins pumped molten lead. “You’re not implying we should give up and wait to die? To let my aunt die?”

       SIX

      Luke gritted his teeth. An unseen vacuum in his chest made his rib cage seem hollow with the pure frustration of not being able to fix things. His memory taunted him with what he should have done differently, both years ago and today, but that wouldn’t help them now. “You know I’m not implying we give up, Gabriella.”