Chapter 1 #2
After just a few sips, the alcohol began to warm my insides, and I set the glass down on the table next to the chair.
I had a bad habit of falling asleep in the chair and was determined not to tonight.
I forced myself to my feet, grabbed the glass and headed towards the kitchen.
Ida, my housekeeper, was kind enough to cook for me a couple times a week and would stash the food in the freezer.
She only worked part-time, so I didn’t get her home-cooked meals every night, but they usually got me through a few days out of the week.
Take-out took care of the rest…or I simply didn’t eat.
Most nights I was too tired to care, anyway.
I flicked on the overhead light in the kitchen and went to the fridge.
Ida had thrown out the Chinese food, no doubt because if it had stayed in there any longer, it would have grown feet and walked away on its own.
But in its place were two plastic containers.
I opened the first and sent Ida a prayer of thanks for the huge helping of lasagna, one of my all-time favorite meals.
Curiosity had me reaching for the second container.
It was taller than the first, but not as wide.
I stilled when I saw the sight of a single cupcake sitting inside. There was even a candle stuck in it.
As grateful as I was for the gesture, it made me feel even shittier.
Thirty years old, and the only ones who’d taken the time to even remember my birthday were my twin brother and my too-kind housekeeper.
And I had no one but myself to blame.
I stuck the container of lasagna back into the fridge and then took the cupcake over to the table and sat down.
I didn’t have any matches or lighters in the house, so I set the candle aside.
It would have been too depressing to light the damn thing anyway.
I reached for my phone and let my thumb hover over the play button on Brody’s message.
“Don’t,” I whispered to myself.
But I did it anyway. I played the message again.
The second I heard that crack in Brody’s voice, I shoved the cupcake away and reached for the whiskey. I downed the rest and then heaved the glass at the wall, relishing in the sound of it breaking. No, I didn’t feel any better, but at least I got to show the rage I couldn’t show in the real world.
I wasn’t sure how long I sat there before I lifted my eyes and stared out the picture window, which faced the front yard.
If the alcohol had had more time to work, my reflexes wouldn’t have been fast enough.
I barely understood what I was seeing in the reflection of the window, but there was no mistaking the glint of a knife just above my left shoulder, along with a figure dressed in black standing right behind me.
I instinctively threw myself to the right and hit the floor hard as my attacker plunged the knife down.
It hit the table, sinking deep into the wood.
As the man, and I had no doubt it was a man based on the heavy build, tried to yank the knife out, I kicked out at him, catching him behind the knee.
An ordinary man would have hit the ground where I could have continued the attack.
But this guy had either seen my blow coming, or he’d expected it, because he twisted at the last minute and my foot glanced off the fleshy part of his leg right below the knee joint… not enough to disable him.
He grabbed the knife as he threw himself down on top of me and I barely managed to catch his wrist as he plunged his arm in a downward arc.
At 6’3, I wasn’t a small guy and I worked out enough to keep fit, but I wasn’t at my fighting weight.
The stress of the campaign trail, among other things, had caused me to lose a good forty pounds, and this guy had that much on me at least, and all in muscle.
I tried swinging my legs out to knock him loose, but he’d pinned me in a way that I couldn’t move.
My eyes fell on the remnants of the glass I’d thrown against the wall.
The top part had broken into several small pieces, but the bottom piece hadn’t completely shattered.
It had broken enough so that it was jagged along the top and bottom edges, and it was only about a foot away.
It might be my only hope, but if I had to release him with one hand long enough to reach for it, I’d be giving him an advantage and he could easily plunge the knife into my throat long before I managed to grab the piece of glass.
But I didn’t have a choice because even now, my arms were burning under the strain of holding him back.
The man suddenly used his right hand to punch me in the side.
I gasped as he knocked the wind from me, but instinct had me holding onto his arm.
When he went to hit me again, I used his momentary distraction to release his arm with one hand and snag the piece of glass.
I ignored the pain in my hand as the glass sliced my palm open and punctured the skin on a couple of my fingers.
I used all my strength to slash at the man’s face.
He was wearing a ski mask, but the glass easily sliced through it and ripped into his flesh.
Shouting, he fell back, grabbing his cheek.
I used both hands to knock him backwards.
I managed to scramble to my feet, but I’d just barely managed to stand when he was on me again and shoved me back against the wall.
The knife was gone, but it didn’t slow him down because he slammed his fist into my jaw and then smacked my head against the wall.
I managed to stay upright, but I was dazed, so I couldn’t move as he stepped back and pulled out a gun.
I’d watched enough TV to know it had a silencer on it.
I wanted to laugh at the irony of it all.
I’d been morosely thinking about the press starting rumors about my dead body going undiscovered in my house based on an unkempt yard, but that was exactly what was about to happen.
Even Preston wouldn’t miss me for a while, since he was in D.C.
meeting with the power players to try and get more endorsements for me.
In that split second as I waited for the bullet to pierce my body, I thought about Brody.
We’d had that twin thing early on in our lives where we could feel each other’s emotions when they were heightened enough, but I doubted that link remained, at least for him.
I still had the occasional sensation of happiness come over me at the strangest of times, and since my life wasn’t exactly the epitome of joyful, I’d had an idea of where that feeling had come from.
It had been confirmed when I’d seen my brother with his men.
If he was listening, I tried to convey something other than the fear I was feeling, along with the regret of knowing I’d never be able to make things right with him.
The man aimed the gun at me. “You’re getting off easy,” was all he said.
I watched as his finger settled over the trigger.
I could have begged for my life, but I wasn’t about to give him the satisfaction.
Not with the dead look in his eyes, and most certainly not after everything he’d said to me in the emails…
I just hoped like hell my death would satisfy whatever insanity was driving him and he’d stay away from Brody.
“Fuck you,” I whispered.
The man’s mouth pulled into a sneer, but before he could pull the trigger, there was a loud crashing sound as the kitchen window suddenly exploded.
I instinctively turned my head away as glass went flying, but I didn’t feel any of it penetrating my body.
I heard a popping sound, but didn’t know what it was at first. But when the guy threw himself past me and towards the hallway that led to the main part of the house, I realized I was, in fact, hearing gunfire.
Just not from his gun.
I turned in the direction the shots were coming from and watched in amazement as a man calmly stepped through what was left of the large picture window. He had a huge gun in his hand and it, too, had a silencer on it.
“Get down!” he ordered, his voice loud, but not panicked.
I instantly dropped to my ass as bullets flew over my head, and I realized the guy was still trying to shoot the man as he escaped the kitchen.
The guy stepped past me and disappeared down the same hallway.
My gut was telling me to run, but I was in a state of shock at the close call.
I had no idea who the guy who’d just shot out my window was, but I had to assume, since he hadn’t blown my head off when he’d had the chance, he wasn’t my enemy.
I heard more popping sounds, and then a few seconds later, a heavy tread as footsteps came my way.
I knew I should try to hide in case it was the first guy coming back, but I couldn’t find the strength to move.
My hand hurt like hell, as did my jaw. My side also hurt and I wondered if some of my ribs were fractured.
I dropped my head back against the wall as I tried to catch my breath.
But within seconds, the second guy reappeared and he dragged me to my feet.
He was huge…bigger than me, even. I suspected he was older than me by at least fifteen years, putting him well over forty.
His short hair was a mix of black and silver and barely looked ruffled, considering everything that had just happened.
He was wearing military-style clothes, all black.
His upper arms were huge, with muscles bulging beneath the fabric of his T-shirt.
I finally noticed that, in addition to the huge handgun he was carrying, he had a second gun hanging by a strap at his hip.
It was considerably bigger than the handgun, but not quite as big as a rifle.
It also had a silencer on it, and I wondered if he’d used that gun to shoot out my window.
“We need to go,” he said. He may as well have been telling me about the weather because, despite his declaration, he was utterly calm. I felt sensation spark to life just beneath the surface of my skin where he was holding me by the upper arm.
“What?” I asked. Was he serious? Go? I wasn’t fucking going anywhere. Not until I got some answers.
And that was exactly what I told him.