Chapter 10
MADISON
Happily sore from our antics in Damiano’s office, I go home to do some cleaning.
At first, I tell myself I’m just going to do some decluttering, but I end up going all out, wiping down everything in the kitchen and even mopping the floor.
Could I afford to hire someone to do this?
Yes. But I have the time, and I actually enjoy connecting with the house in this way.
While I work, my mind bounces around between my favorite zombie shows.
I think about the different ways character archetypes show up.
Particularly in Flesh and Teeth, where half of the characters aren’t who they present themselves to be.
The “priest” who is actually an outlaw. The “monk” who is actually a woman escaping an abusive marriage.
The presentation of false fronts seems a fitting allegory for zombies in particular, because zombies aren’t who they seem, either.
They aren’t alive, but they also aren’t exactly dead. No one is who they seem.
Halfway through vacuuming the living room, I have several more comparisons and ideas. I have to stop cleaning to jot them down.
Could I write a book about this? Or start a podcast? There are plenty of fan-driven podcasts for particular shows, but I haven’t found anything that analyzes the zombie genre as a whole.
I’m so lost in the idea, I almost don’t see the person-shaped shadow pass by my living room window.
But it’s there. Moving quickly, and with purpose.
The sight of it makes me freeze. I don’t even breathe. Someone is definitely out there. I’m not imagining this, I’m not creating drama for fun.
The curtains are drawn almost all the way closed, with a few inches open for light. All I saw was the shadow passing through the fabric.
One of the Nove guards? No. They don’t come this close to the house, ever. They don’t need to.
So it’s someone else.
I duck behind my couch, out of view of the window. If they peer through the crack in the curtains, they won’t see me. But whoever’s out there has to know I’m home—my car is parked in the driveway.
Deep breaths. I have cameras, and Nove guards are standing at the driveway. Damiano texted me their number so I can call them directly.
My phone, though—I left it in the kitchen. Fuck, why did I do that?
Slowly, I rise up so I can see over the edge of the couch.
Nothing. No shadow. Whoever was there has moved away. But where? I look back and forth. There’s a second window at the other side of the room. The curtains are fully drawn, thankfully. Nobody’s waiting on the other side.
I want to cower here behind the couch, but I won’t get any answers this way. And I won’t be any safer.
I bolt forward, staying as low to the floor as possible. The kitchen floor is slippery beneath my bare feet—it hasn’t dried yet from when I mopped. My phone is on the little breakfast table. I grab it, nearly dropping it because my hands are shaking so hard.
Darting back into the living room, I hide behind the couch again.
Someone rattles the back door in the kitchen, trying to get in.
I gasp, heart thundering, lungs seizing. Breathe, Madison.
I pull up Damiano’s text thread and search for the number his guards use. Shit, where is it? I should’ve saved it to my phone, not let it get buried in our texts.
Finally, I find it and click the link.
Someone answers right away. “Miss Greene? This is Laura.”
“Someone’s trying to get inside,” I whisper.
“Which door?”
The back door rattles again.
“They’re at the back door,” I tell her.
“Got it. Stay on the line.” Her voice is calm, but crisp with urgency at the same time.
Sounds of movement come through the line. Laura speaks to her partner. “You go left, I’ll go right.”
“Madison!” a male voice calls as the doorknob rattles. “Are you in there? We need to talk.”
I know that voice. Ford? I peer over the back of the couch, not that I can see anything through the door.
“Madison, you need to listen—” Ford’s words are cut off with a grunt. He yells, “No, wait! This is important, I swear—”
I hear sounds of a struggle, followed by Ford groaning.
“We’ve apprehended the intruder,” Laura says over the phone. “He says he’s your cousin. Is he one of the men who attacked you in October?”
“No. But…I don’t want to talk to him.” I don’t know what he’s doing here. A part of me is curious, and Ford has been nice to me since the will reading in September. But he hasn’t respected my boundaries. I asked him to stop coming around uninvited, but here he is, yet again.
“Understood. We’ll make sure he doesn’t come back.” Laura’s no-nonsense tone is reassuring. Even so, I can’t stop shaking.
“Madison!” Ford yells.
I feel bad, but no. Him creeping around my house like this, after everything else that’s happened, is not okay.
“Is there anything else I can do for you?” Laura asks over the phone.
“No. Thank you, though.”
“Please, Madison, you need to listen to me!” Ford’s entreaties are swallowed in a muffling sound, which grows distant. They’re covering his mouth and dragging him away. Even though I’m relieved, I feel terrible.
Laura says, “If it’s all right with you, I’ll make a report to Mr. Romano and Mr. Colton. I’m certain at least one of them will be in touch with you immediately after.”
“Okay.” I take a deep breath, trying to settle my racing heart. “Thank you.”
Our call ends, and I’m left in a quiet house.
A loud creak echoes from the other side of the living room, causing chills to run through my arms and legs.
Otherwise, all is quiet. The door doesn’t rattle, nobody shouts at me from outside.
Did any of that happen? Am I still imagining things?
I would love to pretend it was all in my head—I hate the idea of Ford sneaking around my house to scare me.
An older notification is up on my home screen. The number is unknown. I click on it, expecting spam, but there’s a message to me instead. Madison, this is Matthew Kavlan. Someone is outside your house. Do you know them, or should I call the police?
If I’d had my phone next to me, I would have known Ford was here earlier. Damn. I guess I’ll be keeping better track of my device.
To be polite, I text Matthew back. Thanks for letting me know. It’s taken care of.
Do you need anything? he writes back immediately. I can come over if you want company. Charmaine isn’t home to complain.
No, thank you.
Fucking hell. The cherry on top of this shitty day would be Charmaine Kavlan jumping down my throat for “trying to steal her husband.” Like he’s any kind of prize.
My phone rings—it’s Seth, so I answer.
“We’re driving up now,” he says. “It’s us, so you don’t need to worry.”
“Thank you. I’ll come to the door.” The warning was thoughtful of him. I’m pretty sure if anyone rang my doorbell right now, I would jump out of my skin.
Hurrying to the front door, I open it, excited to see my guys.
I stop dead at the sight of Matthew Kavlan standing on the doormat.
“Hey.” He gives me what he probably thinks is a charming grin.
I’m tempted to slam the door closed, but I know Seth and Damiano are on their way. However, Matthew asked if I wanted company. I clearly said no.
“I’m expecting friends.” I look past him, hoping for a glimpse of Damiano’s car.
“Oh, I won’t stay if you don’t want me to. I just wanted to check that everything’s okay.”
“It is,” I say flatly. “Thanks again.”
He notices me looking over his shoulder again. “Hey, if you’re worried about Charmaine, don’t be. She’s off at an exercise class, or some shit like that. I don’t know where she is half the time.”
I don’t respond.
“If your friends don’t show up, you should swing by for a visit,” he says. “We could drink some of that whisky you gifted me. It’s good stuff.”
“My friends are on their way, so I need to get ready.”
“Right.” He leans against the doorway, like he doesn’t plan on budging.
The sound of Damiano’s car rolling up the driveway is my salvation.
Matthew turns around, his face a mask of surprise. “Oh. Are these your friends?”
Damiano and Seth get out of the car and stride toward the door.
“Yes,” I say. “As you can see, I’m fine.”
He gives an exaggerated sigh and steps back. “All right, then. Take care, Madison. I’m sorry our visit was cut short, but I can come back later if you’d like.”
“My friends will be staying over. Please leave.” I’ve tried polite, I’ve tried tactful. I’m done.
“Oh.” His eyebrows rise high on his forehead.
I push past him to meet Damiano and Seth on the steps, and I give each of them a kiss—a real kiss. The kind of kiss that leaves no doubt in any observer’s mind that I’m fucking these guys. Damiano frowns in puzzlement in Matthew’s direction; Seth looks amused.
“Come on in.” I take each man’s hand.
“Is Mr. Kavlan bothering you?” Damiano asks as we stride toward my front door.
“Not anymore.” I smile big at Matthew. “He was just leaving, right?”
Matthew clears his throat. “Right. Um, take care.”
Finally, he leaves my porch. I don’t need to watch him walk back down the driveway. I know he won’t come back, not when Seth and Damiano are here.
As soon as the door is closed and locked behind us, I lean against Seth.
Damiano takes my hand. “Tell us everything, bella.”
I run through everything that just happened, including Matthew’s text that I saw too late. “I thought with the cameras and everything else, that I was through with this shit,” I say. “I thought they’d keep me safe.”
“Nothing is foolproof.” Seth’s voice is dark. “We could post guards at every one of your doors, and someone could probably still manage to get in. We could, I suppose, hire an army.”
“That’s a great idea.” Damiano perks up.
“Oh, stop.” I smile despite my fear. “That isn’t necessary. Laura and the other guard dragged Ford away, and now you’re here. I’m fine. No armies necessary.”
Damiano’s phone rings. “It’s Laura.” He answers the call. “Romano here. I’m putting you on speaker with Colton and Ms. Greene.”
A couple months ago, he would’ve kept all the information to himself. He would’ve only shared it with me if he deemed it important. I’m touched that he’s letting her report in front of me now.
“We talked to Mr. Montparnier,” Laura says. “He clammed right up when we asked him to explain.”
Damiano’s dark eyes are narrowed in anger.
“He only said he wanted to talk to Ms. Greene. He wouldn’t provide any details.”
“Keep him for another couple hours,” Seth says. “See if you can get him to talk. Then turn him over to the police with footage from Ironwood. Madison will authorize it.”
“Very well.” Laura ends the call.
I glance between Seth and Damiano. “Do you think Ford is like Derick and Crane? Do you think he’s trying to get rid of me, for the house?”
“Entirely possible.” Seth’s voice is an angry rumble. “After what Derick and Crane did, I guess I wouldn’t be too surprised.”
My shoulders slump, and I snuggle closer to Seth’s warm chest. All this time, I thought Ford was sympathetic.
I thought he was kind. A little bit of a tree nerd, sure, but that’s endearing, not criminal.
But was he behind all this creepy house drama?
Was it his face I saw? He showed me the photo of that plant convention.
I thought it proved he was uninvolved. But it could’ve been fake. He was probably never there.
I thought he was family, but he was an enemy all along.