Chapter 29
CHAPTER 29
Marcus,
I’ve been thinking. I don’t want you for just today or tomorrow or for the next 50 years. Any chance you’re available forever? Check your schedule and get back to me.
Mei
I t’s gonna be a great afternoon. Mei and I were at least stable when I left for work this morning, and we laughed and talked like normal. A great date idea is growing in my head, and I need to figure out some details. I said what I needed to say, she knows what she needs to know. Do over number…who knows. Lost count. I feel like one of those old guys who chuckles and smiles and tells anyone young and inexperienced that marriage is work. Thing is…we’re young but far from inexperienced. Feel like I’m forty by now.
I unlock the apartment door and throw my keys on the counter. Charlie jumps off his windowsill hammock bed we made him and trots over to me, stretches, then sits at my feet and meows. After I pick him up, ruffle his neck fur, and talk to him about his day, I open the cupboard and give him what he really wants: the treats Mei made fun of me for buying because I wouldn’t spend the money on Oreos but couldn’t resist getting Charlie a little something that didn’t smell like dead fish.
Charlie rubs against me then eats the treats right out of my hand. I set him down, kick off my shoes, and put the milk I picked up on the way home in the fridge. Changing my mind, I take it back out, drink half of it, and put it back. Leaning against the counter, I check out the text Mei sent on her lunch break again and smile. Things are definitely back to normal if she’s sending texts like this.
I send her a selfie of me with very raised eyebrows. I add exclamation points and grab a couple of protein bars from the cupboard. She’ll be home in two hours, and I wanna plan something special for tonight. My cooking isn’t exactly special, but it would be nice for her to come home to something that’s intended to be delicious. A night together will be perfect since I’ve been getting home late, and she hasn’t felt awesome. I still haven’t gotten whatever she had, so…fingers crossed.
I put in my earbuds and zone out to music while I do my best to make jambalaya. The whole place smells like onions, and that’s gonna pretty much kill the mood when Mei gets home. I open the door, trying to air out the apartment. Charlie perches in front of it, too scared to step beyond the door frame because the neighbors across from us have a dog that has a bad case of little dog syndrome.
I keep my eye on him as I sauté and chop and read the recipe I found online that looks the most like Meemaw’s. If there’s anyone I’d run to, it would be Meemaw, and I’m living closer to her now than I ever have since Dad and I moved to San Francisco. But I can’t call her; Dad would know where we are. She’d tell him everything, no matter how I made her promise. She can keep secrets—she kept the one about Mei and me getting busy in The Clubhouse as far as I know—but she wouldn’t keep Dad in agony for my sake.
My mind floats toward San Francisco and home and what Dad’s doing right now, and I turn up my music and sing along. When we’re back in Stanford, I’ll call him and try to work things out. I mentally draft what I’ll say to him but get distracted when Charlie darts across the living room and under the couch. I look over my shoulder and freeze. In the doorway stands the greasy guy who was feeling up Mei months ago in the alley behind the restaurant. I haven’t seen him since, but there’s no forgetting Nick’s ugly face.
I grip the knife in my hand as I yank out my earbuds.
“Did I come at a bad time?” He sneers, leaning against the doorjamb. “I probably should have called first. Left a note, maybe?”
My heart changes rhythm, my blood reversing in my veins, going from cold to boiling.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in and tell Mei Li I’m here?” He laughs and steps inside the apartment.
My fingers flex around the knife, and my feet tense, ready to rush the nightmare as he kicks the door closed.
“Get the hell out.” My phone’s behind me, and I’m not gonna turn my back to get it. I swallow.
“Why would I do that when I’ve come so far to find you?”
“I said get out. Last chance.” My whole body tenses. “Because if you don’t, you’re dead. I’ve been fantasizing about killing you since the first time I saw you.”
“Ah. The detective’s son, a murderer.” He laughs and rubs his temple, one hand still in his pocket. “I’ve been fantasizing about a few things too, but it doesn’t involve you.”
My fingers wrap around the knife handle. Dad always taught me never to use a weapon I didn’t know how to use effectively. I’ve never knifed anyone, so I drop it on the counter and rush Nick, grabbing the collar of his jacket and ramming him into the wall. I’m double his size, and I’ve been working out. I don’t need a knife.
Our faces are inches apart as he spits threats, and when they turn to Mei, all sense fades. I hurl him to the ground, flying over him and crashing into the couch. Something metal clatters across the floor, and my head snaps toward a shiny, black gun spinning on the linoleum. I scramble after it, but Nick’s faster, one foot stepping on the gun, the other slamming into my face.
Hot pain sears the inside of my nose, stars bursting and circling in the blackness smothering my mind. My arm is yanked from behind, my shoulder ripping from its socket, and Nick drags me to my feet.
I yell a string of profanities, agony welling and overflowing as red, pulsing rage. Twisting, I launch myself at him, bulldozing him into the door, one hand locked around his neck, the other hanging limply at my side.
He rips my fingers off his neck and shoves me. I hit the ground hard, and he lunges for me, but I roll out of the way. Using my good arm, I haul myself across the floor, focused on my phone on the counter. The sound of a gun being cocked sends me to my stomach, bracing for the bullet that will end everything.
“Get up,” Nick orders from behind me, breathing heavily. “I won’t ask twice.”
Blood streams from my nose and drips down my lips. I’ll kill him. First chance I get, he’s dead. I use my working arm to push myself to my feet, then turn slowly, my stomach ripping apart when I straighten. My body is on fire, blood dripping off my chin as I meet Nick’s hollow eyes.
He raises the gun, aiming it at my chest from where he stands across the kitchen. The refrigerator clicks on, its hum growing louder in my empty, whirling mind, my thoughts shoving me toward the door, the kitchen window—out. But even from across the room, the gun’s cold stare needles through me.
“I came to reclaim what’s mine, and I have a strict policy to leave nothing behind.” Nick’s finger moves on the trigger.
“She’s not yours,” I growl through gritted, bloodied teeth. “Never has been, never will be.”
Nick laughs. “You think I’m here for her? She stole something from me, and if you give it to me, I won’t kill you.”
Footsteps echo outside the door and, afraid it might be Mei, a rush of adrenaline sends me sprinting toward him, but a deafening roar ricochets off the inside of my skull. My ears ring, and a flash of heat cuts through my leg.
Someone screams, and my teeth crash together when I hit the floor, my hand clapping over the hole in my jeans where red bubbles are soaking through the denim. Nick flies past me and bolts from the apartment, his footsteps rumbling down the hallway as my eyes slide to our neighbor lady, who blurs before fading to nothing.