Chapter 2
CHAPTER 2
I jerked awake. My entire body felt tense with fear, but I had no idea why. I lifted my head, my ears straining. Something had woken me. Another noise from downstairs made my heart race. Where was my phone? With shaking limbs, I stood at my closed door and listened. Someone was downstairs and it wasn’t Matt. I had gotten up earlier in an attempt to talk to him about the wedding invitations, but he’d already been half out the door. I had returned to bed and now I was a sitting duck in my bedroom while some intruder rooted around downstairs.
My need to hide overwhelmed me. Instead, I looked around for a weapon. My golf clubs. I gingerly pulled out my seven iron. In bare feet, I eased my bedroom door open. I peered over the glass balcony that overlooked the central living area of the loft. I couldn’t see anyone. Had I imagined those noises? I could see my cell phone charging on the counter. Never again. I would never leave my cell phone downstairs again.
I slowly made my way towards the stairs, keeping my back pressed up against the wall. Everything was silent below. I crept down the open curved stairs. Nothing. My imagination played tricks on me. I let out a deep breath. I needed to get a grip. My therapist used to tell me that my fear was simply my false expectations appearing real. A catchy acronym to remind me that my fear of an intruder was irrational.
Heart pounded in my throat, I walked towards the large industrial sliding door to ensure that Matt had set the alarm. My foot connected with something solid and I barely caught my balance as I tripped over it.
Recovering, I turned around to stare at the huge black canvas duffle bag. The toilet flushed behind me from the half bath. I froze and my mind raced. I needed to hide.
I don’t remember moving. Suddenly, I was flattened against the wall in the front walk-in closet. My breath sounded harsh. My heart raced to the point that I feared I would pass out. My vision blurred with tears.
I strained to listen. I could hear taps running and then the bathroom door opened. Footsteps. Then nothing. Holding my breath, I peered around the corner. In front of his duffle bag, a massive man crouched on his haunches. He had unzipped it and was rifling through it. Was that his kill kit ?
My body shook. My stomach clenched rock hard. White knuckles gripped the club over my shoulder. I needed to get one clean shot to his head. Then I could run. I crept up behind him. I saw a gun. With a mangled cry, I swung my club as hard as I could. My club connected with air.
Now I was flat on my back with my club pressed against my neck. The monster was on top of me. Pinning me to the floor. I caught a glimpse of a shocked expression and green eyes and then everything faded to black.
I was on my back. I opened my eyes and took in the high living room ceiling from the couch. Someone had pulled a couch throw over me. Images crashed through me. The intruder. A gun. Being flipped onto the floor.
With a cry, I half sat up. The intruder sat in the wingback chair across from me. He stared at me without expression. The pain that compressed my chest was so intense, so all-consuming, I had to look to see if I had a knife sticking out of my chest. No blood. No knife. Just fear that was so real I could taste it.
The man who broke into my loft looked like an intense terminator Robocop. All muscles and scariness. Would he torture me like my parents had been tortured or would he kill me quickly? I didn’t care about the money. I already decided I would give him whatever he wanted. I just didn’t want to die.
“You passed out,” his voice was deep and rough. “Drink some tea.”
My eyes flicked to a steaming mug on the coffee table. None of this was making sense.
“You made tea?”
He didn’t answer. He just sat there dwarfing my favorite chair. Black army boots. Tree trunk legs were clad in army fatigues. Herculean arms crossed over a powerful chest. A thick neck. Stubble that was almost a full beard. A strong jaw and brow. Eyes wide and green. Messy dark blond hair.
I worked to remember what my self-defense class taught me. Keep them talking. Humanize yourself. Refer to your friends and family. Talk about yourself as a person. And whatever you do, never ask them what they’re going to do to you.
“Are you going to kill me?”
A shocked expression flitted across his face. He leaned forward, resting his arms on his knees. “Matt didn’t tell you.”
“What does Matt have to do with this?” My voice shook. How did he know Matt? Had Matt hired him?
“Matt invited me to stay here.”
I stared back blankly as I tried to connect the dots. He wasn’t here to kill me. He knew Matt. Matt invited him to stay with us .
“What?”
“You obviously didn’t know about this. I should go.”
He stood up. He was so big he was a man tree.
“Who are you?” Still feeling woozy, I threw the blanket off my body and struggled to a sitting position.
“My name is Jackson.” He moved with grace towards his bag.
Jackson? This was Jackson? Matt’s childhood friend? I tried to remember what Matt had told me about Jackson but the stories were few and far between.
I stood up on wobbling legs. “You were friends with Matt when you were kids, right?”
“Is that what he told you?”
I had no idea what that meant. His massive frame crouched over his duffle bag while he rearranged something. My shock was fading, and now I realized that I had just tried to kill Matt’s friend.
“Matt invited you to stay here?”
He didn’t look up at me. “Yes ma’am, sorry to have scared you.”
I shut my eyes. Matt had invited this behemoth man to come and stay with us. I had no idea why he would do that, but Matt must have his reasons.
“You can’t leave.”
He didn’t respond. He just zipped up the bag, stood up, and swung the huge bag over his shoulder.
Matt always accused me of not being kind to his friends. A couple of weeks ago, after an incredibly awkward dinner with two of his friends, Matt had read me the riot act. He told me I need to be nicer to his friends. He never acknowledged that his friends were rude assholes, but I had promised him that I would try harder. How would I tell Matt that I had chased Jackson off? It wasn’t a conversation I wanted to have with Matt.
“You can call me Emily, and this was just a big misunderstanding,” I started, desperate to figure out how to fix this. “Just because I almost killed you doesn’t mean you’re not welcome. ”
“You didn’t even come close to killing me.” He glanced at the door. He wanted to leave.
“I almost smashed your skull.”
“I was aware of you the moment I came out of the washroom. I just wanted to disarm you without hurting you.”
Our eyes met. That part was true. Somehow he had managed to flip me to the floor and cushion my landing at the same time. He hadn't even winded me.
He added. “I didn’t think you’d pass out.”
Heat crept up my chest, my neck and then my entire face went red hot. I lifted my chin a fraction, unable to meet his eyes. “I was scared.”
“You acted pretty brave for being scared.”
My eyes collided with his gaze for a millisecond. I swallowed. This was a monumental cluster. How would I explain to Matt that Jackson was here but then he left? I needed him to stay.
“I’d appreciate it if you would let me make you breakfast.”
He held himself still for a long moment. “Unnecessary.”
He was so unyielding. He reminded me of a solid, powerful and unbending mountain.
Pent-up air wheezed out of my chest. I crossed my arms over my chest, suddenly conscious of the fact that I was wearing only a tank top and a pair of sleeping shorts. “I don’t want to tell Matt that I scared you off.”
His eyes narrowed. “You aren’t scaring me off.”
“Could have fooled me.”
I never talked like this. I was quiet and unassuming. Why I had chosen the most intimidating man to exert my cheekiness with was beyond me.
His eyes flickered over me. And then in an answer, he dropped the duffle bag on the floor with a heavy thud.
“Just let me get dressed.”
Back in my room, I caught sight of my reflection. My long copper red hair stuck up in every direction. I had a big pillow crease on the side of my face. My tank top was so thin the material was practically see through.
I tried to remember what Matt had told me about Jackson. Something about a tree fort and another story about a schoolyard fight? Matt said that they’d grown apart because they were so different.
That was an understatement.
Matt was a young liberal, urban lawyer. He dressed his lanky frame in expensive suits, he could talk about wine for hours, and he had a constant, impatient vibe to him. The fierce man downstairs, with a body like a solid fortress, didn’t even seem human. His intensity made him unapproachable. He intimidated me. I could not imagine him and Matt having anything in common.
It baffled me that Matt had invited him to stay with us. For how long? Was Jackson just passing through town?
I squared my shoulders. If Matt wanted his friend to stay with us, I would make him feel as welcome as possible.