Chapter 9
Gray
Wrapped in my cozy sleeping bag on Betty’s roof, I replayed the day’s best moments from surveillance. A wicked smile spread across my face as I replayed the clip where she wrote ‘fuck you’ in red lipstick across Ron’s windshield.
I knew he was incredibly fond of that terrible car.
It was amazing he didn’t lash out at her right then and there for what she’d done.
Betty was, well, Betty, and that’s what I loved about her.
She was spunky and quick-tempered, always taking matters into her own hands.
While the CCTV footage wasn’t the clearest, it still deserved a spot in the ‘Best-of-Buttercup’ file I had saved on my desktop.
After tucking away that clip, I replayed the footage of her crossing the street with confidence, her pencil skirt and towering black heels in perfect sync. She had her brown locks pulled back in a severe ponytail; not a single hair was out of line, the tail swooshing behind her.
That clip also ended up in the “archive.” It produced fantasies of her as a schoolteacher, and I couldn’t wait for detention.
She was so full of sharp attitude and bravado—I wanted so badly to wrap her in my arms, caress her skin, and fuck it right out of her.
I wanted nothing more than to spend all her energy until she lay lax in my arms with a grin on her beautiful face.
I clicked and reviewed the camera footage from her house this evening, catching the moment she discovered her new kitten, Villainy.
Her initial reaction wasn’t what I’d planned.
She was panicked, and if I’d thought ahead, I would have attached the note to the tied bow.
That way, she would have seen it right away and not assumed the mafia had broken in and rummaged through her underwear.
But her reaction when she realized it was me? It still hit hard, just as I’d hoped. My heart swelled in that moment, seeing just how much she’d missed me—and wanted me. I kept replaying the way she’d grabbed my note; her flushed face a mixture of relief and disbelief as she yelled my name.
Damn.
It brought back a memory of her screaming the same thing in the throes of ecstasy.
Hearing her say my name now? It felt like a punch to the gut because I couldn’t go to her, not yet.
My hands were itching to repeat that moment, to bury myself in her tight heat and never let her go again.
She was mine to have, and mine to hold, but first I needed to get her out of this mess.
The proximity scanner beeped, and I turned to check the red light on the remote—the fifth one from the right. It was the backyard sensor. I shoved the computer aside, shook off the sleeping bag, and crept to the roof’s edge to peer over.
I scanned the bushes along the fence, trying to find what had tripped the sensor.
It didn’t take long to spot the problem: two men in black, lumbering through the flowerbeds.
I couldn’t see their faces, hidden by their hat brims, but one was probably Ronny.
This was likely his way of enacting his revenge for the car. He was going to break in.
Betty had every light on in the house. I didn’t blame her; I was actually glad she did. It made it easier to follow Ron and his partner to the back door, leaving no place for them to hide.
Betty was already asleep, having passed out about an hour ago.
She’d burrowed under her blankets to escape the light of the house, much to my annoyance.
Usually, I’d crank up her thermostat, hoping she’d kick off the covers so I could see her while she slept, but I let it go tonight.
She needed the sleep in case something like this happened.
I crept back to my computer, pulling up the backyard’s live feed.
They were coming in full force, hammer in hand, heading straight for the back door.
Knowing their style, they were planning for it to be a smash-and-grab: break the glass, get inside, take Betty.
My fingers danced across the keyboard, disabling Betty’s alarm; I didn’t want the police arriving while I was dealing with this.
I grabbed the gear I needed from my bag, hurried to the skylight hatch, and flipped it open to rest on its hinges. With solid grace, I tied the rope and jumped down, just as the sound of the back door glass shattering echoed through my computer speakers from above.
They hadn’t hesitated, so I had to act fast. I was glad to be ready. Since she’d revealed her hand tonight and let them know she was aware of their tail, they wouldn’t give her a chance to escape or bring in backup.
I tiptoed down the spiral staircase from the office to her bedroom, my bare feet silent on the steps. Reaching the bottom, I peered into her brightly lit bedroom. My eyes landed on her still form in the middle of the bed. She hadn’t stirred, lost in sleep.
Both cats were curled up beside her. I made a clicking noise with my tongue, and Mr. Beans looked up, noticing me. His ears perked, and he yawned, but didn’t bother to stand. Villainy didn’t even bother to open his eyes.
The old stairs groaned from a floor below—they were almost here.
I slipped into the room and crossed toward the door, my back brushing the bookshelves as I moved.
There wasn’t much cover other than to hug the wall.
When Nash lived here, there were more chairs and tables to duck behind, and I wished it were still like that.
Betty preferred things simple, though, and I couldn’t fault her.
I drew a knife from my belt, gripping it at the ready.
I wasn’t a fan of violence. I did my best to avoid it. Killing was something I never wanted to do unless there was no other way, though fighting, hurting, and even dismemberment weren’t off the table.
As a child in my family, I’d opened the freezer to find a few severed fingers, stored right beside the Scooby-Doo popsicles.
Thinking back, I hadn’t realized what they were until later in life, when the truth became known to me.
I just thought they were my grandmother’s Italian sausages. Thank God I hadn’t tried to eat one.
The doorknob rattled and turned, but it was locked and bolted.
A boot toe briefly appeared through the cat flap, as if testing it.
Mr. Beans took notice from his spot on the bed.
A low growl rumbled from his chest, a clear warning echoing through the room.
He stood tall, eyes locked on the cat flap, ears flattened.
Villainy, however, seemed completely unconcerned, still fast asleep nestled in the sheets beneath him.
My body went rigid as a loud bang reverberated through the room.
It wasn’t a gunshot, thankfully, but the sound of the hammer he’d used to break the exterior door downstairs hitting her bedroom doorknob.
I watched it eventually shatter after another few hits, the springs and screws scattering everywhere.
A gaping hole remained, and a meaty hand worked to shove its way through, unlocking the deadbolt above.
Betty stirred under the sheets. Damn, she was a heavy sleeper.
I flipped the knife, gripping the tip between my fingers, and drew it back as the first man lumbered in. The moment I saw his face, I recognized him as Derek, Ron’s bigger, more unstable friend.
Without a second thought, I let the blade fly, and it lodged in his upper thigh with a thud. Based on the rigid position of the knife, I knew I’d hit bone.
Good.
Anything I could do to slow Derek down would be helpful. The man was the size of a refrigerator, and I doubted I could defeat him with my fists alone.
Derek began to scream and yell, and Betty’s movements became frantic.
She threw the blanket off herself. Her face, still heavy with sleep, registered terror.
She went from zero to sixty in a heartbeat, her hair flying in the air, charged with static as her eyes grew wide.
She let out a guttural scream that could have cracked the room in half before she surged into motion.
Ron came in, and I swiftly drew another knife from my belt.
He was so focused on Betty screaming that he hadn’t yet seen me.
I let the blade fly, and it lodged in his upper arm, also producing a satisfactory thudding sound.
Ron was reeling from the hit when I charged, teeth gritted, and slammed into his gut from the side.
We went down hard, sliding across the floor and crashing into the bookshelves.
“What are you doing here, Ron?” I huffed out, locking my arms around him to keep him from squirming away.
Books and other things rained down on us, glass shattering and spines thudding onto the wooden floor. I winced, taking most of the impact as I stayed on top of Ron.
“What are you doing here, Grayson?” he replied through gritted teeth.
With Ron’s arm immobilized, I chanced a look back at Betty. She was digging through her blankets. Hopefully, she was looking for something she could use as a weapon. I knew she’d hidden some things under her pillow.
Derek was clutching his leg and rocking back and forth on the floor at the foot of her bed, groaning.
Ron kicked me, drawing my attention back to him.
“You just can’t go away, can you?” he hissed through clenched teeth. Ron wrenched his arm away and scratched at my face with a fresh burst of energy.
I instinctively punched back, my fist connecting with his cheek a few times, though most were off-target as Ron wriggled in my grasp. He was evasive and scrappy, even more so than I.
“Betty,” I huffed out, pressing a thumb into one of Ron’s eyes. “Get out of here!”
I heard her yelp and grumble, then swear before answering, “Fuck you, Gray. Don’t tell me what to do.”
Pulling an arm back, I punched Ron in the side, preventing his next words from surfacing.
It bought me a moment to risk another glance Betty’s way.
Derek was back on his feet, blood running down his leg and soaking into his jeans.
He’d yanked the dagger out, holding it in his hand.
He was waving it at Betty, blood dripping from the point down the blade, over his knuckles and onto the floor.
“Come down here, you little bitch,” Derek bellowed, spitting out of his mouth.
Betty was jumping back and forth on her mattress, hands out and stance wide in a defensive position. “Hell no, asshole. You’ll have to come get me, you little bitch,” she parroted.
Even though it was a scary thing to see her this close to danger, I couldn’t stop myself from admiring how fierce she looked.
She wore blood-red silk pajamas from head to toe, taser in hand, facing Derek as if he were a simple playground bully.
Her expression was hard; her body coiled and ready for action.
She was a lit firecracker, about to blow.
Ron capitalized on my lapse in focus, sweeping a leg over mine and flipping me. He followed up with a punch that landed squarely on my jaw. Stars exploded behind my eyes, and a wave of pain washed over my teeth and sinuses. Dazed, I struggled to regain my bearings.
“Stay the fuck back, dickwad,” Betty threatened.
“I thought you wanted me closer, honey,” Derek taunted.
The sound of her taser buzzed in the room, or maybe it was just my ears ringing; I couldn’t tell. I pushed back at Ron and yelled, “Betty, don’t… play with your…” I huffed, Ron pressing back and squeezing the air from my lungs “…food!” I struggled out.
I jammed my thumb into Ron’s eye socket again, this time throwing him off balance.
Hands now free, I frantically searched the floor for a weapon.
My fingers closed around the spine of a hardcover book, which I promptly used to bash Ron on the head as he recovered and came at me.
Unfortunately, it was a novella and did very little to disarm him.
Ron reached out and got a hand on the book to stop me, chuckling as blood dripped from the corner of his mouth, his eye swollen.
I heard Betty scream and struggle, igniting a second wind inside me. I heaved Ron’s body off me with an adrenaline-fueled shove, scrambling over him and landing another heavy blow across his face. He froze, momentarily shocked by the force I’d delivered across his jaw.
Betty was still on the mattress, but Derek had her by the wrist, shaking the hand holding the taser. She was struggling to break free from his grasp, yelling a stream of expletives as Mr. Beans tried to help, hissing and spitting at Derek and swiping at his legs with claws exposed and sharp.
“Betty!” I yelled. “Get ou…” air burst from my lungs.
Ron, having regained his composure, punched me in the gut, knocking the wind out of me. Doubled over, I coughed and retched, spewing bile onto the wooden floor. I couldn’t breathe, feeling as though he’d collapsed a lung with that hit.