Chapter Twenty-One
Rue
It was just another night.
I cleaned up the store, dropped the money from the register, locked up, and headed home with Ernest.
“That’s a good boy,” I cooed at Ernest as he came waddling back into the kitchen after he did his business.
“You already had dinner,” I reminded him as he sniffed out the pepperoni on my cold pizza I brought home from lunch, then sat down and tried to offer me his paw.
“You know I’m a sucker,” I said, peeling off a pepperoni circle and giving it to him.
He’d just finished chomping when I heard something that made my heart lurch.
Crunching.
Like feet on the pea gravel that acted as a fire barrier between the house and the mulch that lined the flowerbeds around the house.
Sure, my house was in a neighborhood, but that didn’t mean wildlife didn’t find its way into my yard at times. It could be a raccoon, opossum, or maybe an iguana.
But it felt too loud to be a small mammal. And an iguana would drag along the gravel, not crunch.
I tossed another pepperoni toward Ernest before he started to cry for more so I could listen.
Crunch. Crunch.
There was someone out there.
Walking along the side of my house.
My mind immediately went to the bikers.
But they would have no reason to show up at my house and skulk around. We weren’t on good terms. But I would answer the door if one of them showed up.
The enemy of my enemy and all that.
But there was someone who might feel the need to creep around if they were coming to speak to me. Or hurt me.
I didn’t stop to think, to reconsider my fears.
I kicked off my shoes, grabbed my phone, waved my pizza at Ernest, and freaking ran.
This wasn’t some huge house. My grandmother lived relatively modestly. It was a simple one-level ranch-style home with tile floors. And the water table in the area meant there was no basement to try to hide away in.
But it came with one fun quirk.
Something unique that no one else would have, let alone think to look for.
I was rushing through the door of the primary bedroom when I heard someone twisting the knob on the front door.
Had I locked it?
How much time did I have?
My heartbeat thrummed as I forced myself to keep moving. There was no time to look back.
My breath was coming in fast, shallow puffs as I rushed over toward the mirrored sliding doors of the primary closet.
Ernest was happy to follow me, nose sniffing the pizza in my hand.
I slid the doors closed behind us, then dropped to my knees on the floor, pushing aside my luggage and feeling around the wall, then pushing to unlatch the hidden crawl space.
Ernest was going to hate this.
Hell, I was going to hate it.
But even as I hesitated, I heard the front door crack as, I imagined, someone kicked it in.
Not someone.
No.
It had to be Marco. And he likely hadn’t come alone.
What changed?
Was he still mad about the last visit?
Or, worse yet, had he seen me with Kylo? Did he know I was working with Huck and his club?
My stomach clenched as I waved the pizza in Ernest’s face, then tossed it into the darkness in front of me.
Thankfully, the promise of food overrode any reservations he might have.
He rushed into the darkness.
I turned and crawled backward inside.
Footsteps clicked on the floor in the main area of the house.
Something crashed, and I had to squeeze my lips together to keep from crying out.
I reached up, pulling the clothes back into order, then trying to pull the luggage in front of the door before pulling the small knob on the inside until the magnet caught.
Then it was complete darkness.
The sounds were more muffled in the crawl space, but there was the sound of more things knocking to the floor, the crash of glass breaking.
I sucked in frantic breaths as I pressed my phone to my chest to keep it dark while I pressed the volume all the way down. The last thing I needed was for my grandmother to send one of her many worried texts and have the ding give away my location.
I winced as Ernest chomped on the food.
But he was a ravenous eater. By the time the men stopped ransacking my house, he would be long finished.
I scurried backward, trying not to notice how dirt scratched at my knees, shins, and palms, how the cobwebs caught in my hair.
I didn’t stop until I reached Ernest, using my body to barricade him in the back of the crawl space.
Outside the hidden door, on the other side of the mirror doors of the closet, I heard male voices, then things hitting the floor in my bedroom.
I sucked in a breath, trying to calm myself down.
“She just let the fucking dog in. She’s here somewhere,” Marco’s voice growled, making my stomach clench.
What if they turned the house upside down?
What if they found me?
What if Marco let them do to me what they’d joked about the last time I’d seen them?
My hands were shaking as I slid my phone into my shirt, unlocked it, then lowered the brightness until I could barely see the screen as I scrolled to my messages.
My grandmother was on top.
Below her, Traeger.
Then five or six text stream advertisements.
Then, finally, Kylo.
“Stop bullshitting and find her. Now!” Marco snarled.
My shoulders crept up toward my ears as I texted with shaky fingers.
HELP.
I sent that off before I realized he needed more details.
Marco is at my house with his men.
I resisted the urge to tell him my address, remembering that he’d been following me, that he likely not only knew where I lived, but my exact schedule.
Where, just an hour before, that information would have made me angry, now I was just relieved.
I stared at the screen, worrying that he might ignore my texts, that he might not be by his phone, that he wouldn’t see or be able to help me in time.
Should I call the police?
But if they came and found Marco and his men and arrested them, it might all come out.
It was my name on those documents.
On paper, I was the arms dealer.
There was nothing linking them to anything.
Ernest tried to edge past me.
Needing to keep him distracted so he didn’t whine, I reached out with my free hand to rub his belly. He dropped down and rolled onto his side, inviting more. With my free hand, I kept touching the screen so I could see a text when it came.
One minute.
Five.
Men’s voices got lower as they moved into other rooms, then got loud as they closed in again.
I was holding my breath, so I could hear the swishing sound as the closet doors slid open.
Okay.
It was okay.
There was no reason to think they could find me.
I petted Ernest harder as I leaned over, burying my face in his wrinkly neck, trying to keep myself from making a sound as the hangers shrieked across the bar while they looked for me.
The luggage thumped against the hidden door and I prayed the pressure wasn’t enough to push the magnet in and unlatch the door.
I squeezed my eyes shut, not wanting to know what was coming if our location had been found out.
I focused on the feel of Ernest’s soft fur as I counted breaths, trying to keep them steady and slow.
But there was no way to control the way adrenaline surged through me, to calm my heartbeat, to force my lungs to accept more oxygen.
“She’s not hiding on a fucking shelf,” someone said, close. So, so close.
But then, the slide of the doors again.
Then, suddenly, the crash of glass.
I yelped against Ernest’s neck, using both my arms to keep him in place as he startled.
“Good boy,” I whispered, my voice barely even audible to my own ears. “Good boy. Who’s my good boy?”
Shoes crunched on the glass shards, then moved further away.
I was vaguely aware of more crashing and speaking before, suddenly, the silence spread.
I didn’t move.
I didn’t dare.
If Marco suspected I was still hiding somewhere, he could have just ordered his men to be quiet, to wait for me to come out.
I petted Ernest.
I counted.
One to sixty, then back again, holding up my fingers for each minute that passed.
Ten.
Twelve.
Fifteen.
My body jolted hard at the sudden thunderclaps of shoes running through my house.
“Rue?” a voice called, making me stiffen and straighten up.
That wasn’t Marco.
But it was coming from so far away; I didn’t let myself hope it might be a rescue.
“Rue? Rue, where are you?” The voice grew closer.
I straightened as much as the tiny space would let me, trying to listen.
I reached for my phone, unlocking the screen again.
I’d been so busy burying my face in my dog’s neck that I’d missed the texts from him.
I’m coming.
Hold on.
Two minutes.
That last one was from five minutes ago.
Did I dare believe it was him?
My blood rushed through my ears, too loud to trust them to differentiate one voice from another.
With trembling fingers, I shot off a quick text.
Is that you?
“Thank fuck,” I heard the voice say with a deep exhale. “Yeah, darlin’,” he said, his voice moving closer, still trying to find me. “Yeah, it’s me. Where are you hiding?”
“Closet,” I called back as my heart swelled.
I released Ernest and started to crawl forward, the grime coating my sweaty palms and legs as I made it to the little door.
“Don’t come out,” he called. “There’s glass everywhere.”
“I know,” I said, pushing my little crawl space door open. “I heard it break,” I added as he slid the door open to find me on all fours in the little square doorway.
“That’s a damn good hiding spot,” he said, trying to keep his tone calm, soothing. But I saw the tension in his jaw, the relief in his eyes.
“I have Ernest in here with me,” I told him. “He can’t come out with the glass everywhere.”
My voice was weirdly calm even as my insides scrambled around.
“Okay. Point me in the direction of a broom and dustpan.”
“There’s a rack right outside behind the door to the garage.”
“Okay. Hold tight. Give me one minute.”
Ernest grumbled, poking me with his cold, wet nose.
“Just another minute, buddy,” I cooed at him as I heard a strange, loud, rumbling sound move closer and closer.