Chapter 19
CHAPTER
NINETEEN
Rett
The door snapped shut with loud finality, a sharp warning not to fling it wide and throw myself at the hot, shirtless man on the other side.
It was hard.
Really hard, and not just because he was sinfully hot. But because I felt things with him I’d never felt with anyone. And yes, I realized my experience was painfully limited, which was why I forced myself to turn the locks and slide the chain across the door.
I stood there for a moment, forehead and palm pressed against the wood, telling myself he deserved a door to the face for what he did to my creamer.
The quiet of the apartment ebbed around me almost as though it had its own heartbeat, almost as though it were trying to tell me something…
“Ahem.”
I jolted so hard that both feet left the floor as I spun, back slamming against the door as my attention ping-ponged around the room.
A body rose from the single chair parked behind my desk. Okay, it was a card table with a faulty leg, but it had only collapsed once since I’d brought it home. But it was where my laptop and work manuals were, so that made it a desk.
My hand flew up to press against my chest, heart wedged painfully in my throat.
“I was beginning to think you blew town,” he said as if letting himself in was no big deal and he had some sort of open invitation to be here.
In actuality, the fact that Tommy, the neighborhood pharmacist, was standing in my apartment was federal-investigation-worthy. You know, if cops cared about nobodies in the slums like me.
Also, he most certainly was not invited.
“What are you doing in my apartment?” I demanded, voice a little too high.
“Waiting for you.” He spread out his hands like it was completely obvious.
The only thing obvious to me was that my locks were clearly lacking.
Oh my god—did he just come in here whenever he wanted? Was this his hobby?
“How’d you get in here?” I said, anger (and maybe fear) making me straighten from the wall.
“Larry will give anyone a key around here if the cash is green enough.”
I should not be surprised. Yet here I was, gaping. “Larry let you into my apartment.”
“No,” Tommy answered like I was stupid and held up the backup key Hiro was just lecturing me about. “He gave me the key. I let myself in.”
Hiro! I spun back to the door, fully intending to rip it open and yell. He was scary-looking. Well, to other people anyway. He’d scare Tommy off.
“I wouldn’t if I were you.” The words were accompanied by the cocking of a gun.
The hair on the back of my neck practically levitated, and I glanced around to see the weapon pointed right at me. Another day, another gun.
“You open that door, and I’ll empty this clip into whoever is out there,” he vowed, the dead look in his eye making me believe him.
Dread anchored in my chest, weighing down my limbs and numbing my brain. Hiro had already taken one bullet for me. And sure, I was mad at him for a lot of stuff, but I didn’t want him to get hurt because of me.
“What do you want?” I asked, slowly rotating to face him.
“For starters, I want to know the last time you went grocery shopping. Your cabinets were slim pickings.”
My eyes flew to the small kitchenette on the other side of the room. The cabinet doors were all open. “You went through my stuff?”
He shrugged. “What else was I supposed to do? I got bored. You’re out of cereal, by the way.”
He ate all my cereal. That was my last box! “How long have you been here?” I asked, trying to keep the frustration out of my tone.
“Long enough to know you don’t have any weapons in here to defend yourself,” he said, eyes steady on mine. “And that your taste in computer games sucks.”
I gasped. He went through my laptop too? “That’s my work computer.”
“It was nice of me not to smash it, then.”
The fact that he even considered doing that was disturbing. “What do you want?” I deadpanned.
“I’m here to collect.”
Unease curdled like old milk rotting away in my stomach. “Collect what?”
“The favor you owe me.”
And that was when my gut started playing the Jaws theme song. Danger was imminent. The urge to pack up and flee made my toes curl in my sneakers.
“I don’t owe you anything,” I said, letting the predator know I was not easy prey.
He moved fast, faster than my brain could comprehend, and the next thing I knew, my body banged against the door, one of the crappy locks biting into my shoulder like giant shark teeth.
Sharp and ugly panic burst beneath my skin. I squirmed, but Tommy just pinned me harder.
It was a little disappointing to realize that if I were ever in a shark movie, I’d be eaten first. The credits would list me as First Snack.
“Don’t play stupid with me, you little fucker. You knew exactly what would happen when you came to me for those pills.”
To be fair, I didn’t know exactly. I wasn’t clairvoyant.
In hindsight, was going to the biggest drug lord in the neighborhood for a few ache-away nuggets a good idea? Absolutely not.
But it’s easy to be wise after you do something stupid. However, when your brain is foggy and critical thinking takes a back seat to pain, things that should be an epically terrible idea suddenly seem like the only option.
And that’s how I’d gotten here. Sold my soul to the devil for a few—well, I don’t even know what he gave me. Whatever they were did the job, though. I got several hours of blissful sleep, and my body felt more like it belonged to someone in their twenties versus their eighties when I woke up.
Correction: when Kieran beat on my door and woke me up.
The drugs had been so good that I’d slept through Haz’s apartment being completely ransacked and him almost being murdered. I’d probably feel bad about that forever. If I hadn’t taken those pills, I might have heard. I might have been able to help him.
And I might be dead.
The gun jammed against my chest so hard I could feel the cold metal through my shirt. “Are you listening to me?” Tommy snarled. “I didn’t give you that shit out of the goodness of my heart. You owe me, and I’m here to collect.”
I swallowed. “What do you want? I don’t have any money.”
He snorted. “Clearly.”
A hot wave of anger rolled through me, and I threw my body into his, shoving him back. He stumbled and almost fell before catching himself.
“If you got something to say, fucking say it already,” I snapped, hands balling into fists at my sides.
How dare he break into my house and then insult me? Was I broke? Obviously. But I was better off than I used to be, and I worked hard to keep this place and the minimal things inside it. Could I do better? Maybe. But it was hard to do better when you felt like this was all you deserved.
Still, this was my place, and I wasn’t going to listen to him insult it even if he had a gun.
Besides, he obviously wouldn’t shoot me until he got what he wanted. Dead men couldn’t fulfill the favors they moronically agreed to.
Tommy’s shoulders rolled beneath his white T-shirt, and he made a show of cracking his neck. He was taller and wider than me—something most people were—and he was clearly trying to use it to scare me.
I was afraid of him. I’d heard the rumors and seen enough with my own eyes to know Tommy didn’t make empty threats. But right now, I was tired and annoyed. The urge to curl under a blanket and sulk about Hiro seemed more overpowering than this large man with a gun right now.
“There’s a job,” he snapped.
“What?” I echoed, a little surprised we were still talking and not squaring up.
“My usual delivery guy is out of commission, and I need a replacement.”
“What happened to him?” I wondered. Why I decided to lead with that question was anyone’s guess.
Tommy’s dark eyes thinned into slits sharp enough to cut. “I caught him stealing from me. You know what happens to men who steal from me?”
Gee. I wonder. “You kill them?” I guessed.
“Well, look at that. You aren’t stupid after all.”
“W-what did you do to him?” Again, I have no idea why I needed to know this. Knowing wouldn’t be good for my mental health.
He stared long and hard, his face a mask of nothing. He was silent so long that the urge to fidget came over me, but I forced myself to stay in place.
Show no weakness.
“I cut off his fingers and fed them to him. Now he’s fish food in Lake Erie.”
I said nothing. But later, I would probably have some wildly vivid and terrible dreams. Was it hot in here? I was starting to sweat, so I tugged off my coat and draped it over the back of the couch.
He strolled after me, gun clutched in his hand at his side. I remained rooted in place even though the panic in my chest turned medically concerning. I wondered if anyone’s heart ever exploded from anxiety. Like a bomb detonating right there inside you.
The satisfied glint in his otherwise empty eyes was proof he’d heard my uneven breathing the closer he got. His feet bumped mine, and he bent, practically mocking me with his height, so he could stare directly into my eyes. “You know what happens to snitches?”
“They wind up in ditches,” I parroted.
He patted my cheek. “Double-cross me, and winding up in a ditch will be kind compared to what I’ll do.”
Before I could say or do anything, he pulled away. I used the brief moment his back was turned to drag in an unsteady breath. My hands were shaking, as were my knees, joints vibrating right there beneath my skin.
I flinched when he turned around, and it made him laugh. My eyes moved around the room, scanning for a weapon, but snapped back to him when he started to talk.
“I call. You deliver. No detours. No mistakes. No problem.”
He seriously wants me to deal drugs for him.
Listen, I might have had a lapse in judgment that one time, but it affected no one but me. Delivering whatever the hell he sold to other people—people who could get hurt or hurt someone else because they took it—that was a line I wouldn’t cross.
“No.”
He drew back as though I’d offended his mother. “No?”
Shaking my head, I moved to walk around the sofa, put a little distance between us. Maybe find something I could whack him in the head with. “I’m not dealing for you.”