52. Zara
ZARA
“Who-who are you?” I ask the hulking man standing in the doorway to Athena’s bedroom. Gray peppers his short dark hair, and a scar cuts across the outside corner of his eyebrow. He’s wearing jeans and a plain blue hoodie and is holding something in his hand, but I can’t make out what it is.
Joanne didn’t mention anyone coming over to do work on Garrett’s house. She must have expected to return from her appointment before the man arrived.
Peony’s arms wind tightly around my leg from behind me. Her screams morph into uncontrollable wails. She presses her face into the back of my leg, muffling her cries, but her arms remain in place.
With a little patience and gentle coaxing, I untangle myself from her hold and lower to a crouch.
“Hey, Princess Peony. It’s okay.” But as I say the words, the sharp claws of an unsettling feeling dig into my stomach.
The man didn’t bother ringing the doorbell.
He just entered the house like he belongs here.
Maybe Garrett is fine with that, but something about the situation doesn’t sit right.
I kiss Peony’s cheek, trying to comfort her, her small body trembling in my arms. She’s still leery with men she doesn’t know. And given the size of this man and his muscles, it doesn’t matter how sweet he might be, he’s intimidating as hell.
“Where’s Nina?” The man’s low, harsh tone comes close to that of a wolf baring its fangs, dispelling any belief there might be a sweet bone in him.
I push to my feet with Peony in my arms, the growing ache in my joints reminding me I’m due for ibuprofen soon. “You have the wrong house. You better leave or I’ll call the cops.” I infuse my voice with indignation and an unspoken promise that I will carry through with my threat.
He doesn’t need to know, though, I left my phone in my purse.
Which is in my car.
The whisper of a voice pokes at me. Is it possible Peony hasn’t been mispronouncing Athena’s name? It really is Nina?
But that can’t be right. I saw the letter Kenda wrote for Garrett. She referred to Athena by that name. And not once has Athena let on her name is something else.
“I’m not going anywhere until you tell me where Nina is.” The man’s voice doesn’t soften. If anything, it grows scarier. Somehow, deadlier.
“I have no idea where she is. I only know she’s not here.” Now get out of Garrett’s house.
The man reaches behind the waistband of his jeans and pulls out a gun, which he points at Peony and me, sending my heartbeat skittering to a standstill, blood pooling to my feet. “Not a good enough answer.”
“I-I really don’t know where she is.”
He steps back from the doorway and gestures with a wave of the gun to the hallway. “Move!”
I do as I’m told, my mind spinning a thousand miles an hour. Garrett taught me self-defense, but none of the lessons will be of any use in this particular scenario, with Peony in my arms. Plus, the risk of her getting hurt is too high.
“We’re going for a ride.” The man points toward the front door.
Fuck . Now what? We won’t stand a chance once we get into his vehicle.
His dark expression warns me to get moving. I slowly walk to the door, my mind still spinning. His heavy footsteps follow me. I don’t have to look over my shoulder to know the gun is aimed at my back.
Peony hiccups a sob, her body still trembling. Her crying isn’t as loud now, but her fear pumps through my veins with the rapid beat of my heart.
“Let me put her in her room first.” As long as Peony is safe, I can breathe a little easier. Joanne should be here soon, so Peony won’t be left alone for long.
“No. She’s coming with us.” He attempts to smile at Peony, but the curve of his mouth only makes him look that much more menacing. The increased trembling of her body confirms it.
I turn from him, using my body as a shield between him and Peony, who’s perched on my hip. “Why? She’s just a toddler. She hasn’t done anything wrong.” And neither have I. Whatever his issue is with Athena, it’s exactly that—between him and her.
It has nothing to do with Peony and me.
“She’s coming with us,” he repeats, his tone not leaving room for negotiation. But that doesn’t mean I won’t try. For Peony’s sake.
“Where are we going?” I’m stalling for time while I think of a way to get him to leave without us.
His irritated frown makes it clear he has no intention of answering my question, and he gestures again with the gun for me to get moving.
If Peony was older, I could put her down and fight the man while she hid. But she’s too young to understand what I’m saying if I tell her to run and hide.
And she won’t be able to get away from him fast enough should he quickly overpower me.
He opens the front door and waits for me to step outside.
I make a move to put on my sandals.
“No shoes.” He shoves me hard in the back, sending me stumbling toward the doorjamb. I regain my balance in time to keep from slamming into the wood.
The sinking sensation in my stomach grows heavier. But even then, I pray for a miracle. Any miracle. No matter how small. Anything to help us get away .
I step onto the stoop. Any hope of escape dies a rapid death.
He didn’t come here alone. A tall, white muscle-bound man in a black T-shirt and black jeans is leaning against the passenger door of the black SUV now parked on the driveway.
It’s behind my car, preventing my escape should I be able to outsmart the men.
His tattooed, tanned arms are folded over his thick chest, but the gun casually held in his hand doesn’t skip my notice.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuckfuckfuckfuck.
What the hell did Athena do to bring these two men searching for her?
The dense garden of trees and shrubbery provides privacy between Garrett’s property, his neighbors, and the street. Usually, I appreciate that privacy, that sense of seclusion.
Now, it’s a prison wall, preventing everyone from seeing the danger Peony and I are in.
And now, that same thick garden, beyond the driveway and flower beds, mocks me with the possibility of escape.
A very slim possibility.
Odds are great Peony and I won’t make it to the cover of dense leaves in time. We’ll be shot first.
The late afternoon sunlight shines through the leaves, painting dappled patterns on the driveway. Even the shadows don’t have a solution for getting out of this predicament alive.
“She’s not here,” the man behind me tells his…his friend. “But I got the child.” His voice sounds different this time, like he’s talking through a mask.
I glance back at him, and a new wave of fear engulfs me. A tsunami-sized wave. The thing he was holding earlier that I couldn’t identify? It was a mask, like the rubber kind worn at Halloween.
A wolf mask.
Peony referred to the picture she saw in Athena’s sketch pad as bad.
This man…the wolf in the sketch pad…is it a coincidence or was Athena drawing this man in wolf form? The wolf that represents my new nightmare .
The man-wolf shoves me toward the SUV, and I stumble once more, the rough surface of the driveway digging into my bare soles.
“It’s illegal for babies and young children to ride in a car and not be in a child seat,” I remind them. Neither man looks the sort to care about child safety, but maybe they’ll surprise me.
“Hey, Zara.”
At Emily’s cheery voice, a jolt of hope shoots through me, and my muscles turn rubbery. The relief is short-lived, fear and panic overriding it. And a wave of dizziness hits me, steals my ability to speak, to scream, to cry out in warning.
I turn my head to where she’s walking up the driveway.
“Kellan sent me to pick up some…” Her gaze shifts from the two men who caught her attention and back to me. Her face is pale, eyes owlish. “What-what’s…” Her hand moves slightly, inching to her dress pocket.
Movement in my periphery is the only warning I?—
BANG.
My heart stops beating for a fraction of a second, the world around me suddenly quiet, other than the ringing in my ears. A sharp, acrid smell taunts me.
Then the flapping of wings and panicked squawks fill the air as birds in the trees take flight. The sudden movement and noise send my heart rate into overdrive.
Ice-cold horror immobilizes me, and I watch Emily collapse onto the driveway. Fear and confusion and anguish root me to the spot.
“Em!” Her name scrambles out on a broken scream. I can’t tell if she sees or hears me. Her hair covers her face.
Blood seeps from her torso and spreads across the ground. And that’s all it takes to shake me from my shock. To tell me this isn’t a bad dream I’ll wake up from and everything will be fine. I need to save her. Now.
My focus narrows on Emily, and everything else, other than the screaming toddler I’m clinging tightly to, fades into the background.
In my mind, I’m racing over to Emily.
In my mind, I’m frantically stopping the flow of blood.
In my mind, I’m checking her pulse and performing emergency first aid .
But in reality, Peony is snatched from my arms. In reality, I’m being handcuffed, kicking and screaming, and shoved into the back of the SUV.
In reality, heavy metal music is turned on, the pounding beat cranked up, and I’m told if I step out of line, Peony will pay the price.
Please be okay, Em. Please be okay. Please be okay.
I’m vaguely aware of moving my lips to my new mantra as I rock on the seat, my heart racing, my body a block of ice. Tears soak my cheeks and drip onto my lap. The wetness is not enough to smother the scream-ignited fire in my throat.
She’s gotta be okay. A neighbor must have heard the gunshot. They have to be calling the police.
Please hold on, Em. Please hold on. Please hold on. Help is on the way.
The SUV screeches out of the driveway and speeds down Garrett’s street.
Leaving Emily all alone.
I don’t try to soothe Peony, who’s screaming next to me in the child seat. I frantically look out the passenger window for someone who can help us, but the street is empty. No one is out taking a stroll or walking their dog or biking along the road.
And even if there was anyone, the way the handcuffs are threaded through the seat belt and my position in the middle of the back seat prevent me from banging on the window.
The music drowns out the desperately distressed noises Peony and I are making.
The loud pounding of the song matches each rapid beat of my heart.
We’re in plain view, but no one knows we need help.
No one knows we’re in trouble.
We’re alone—and I suddenly understand Peony’s fear of men a whole lot more.