by Amelia Wilde
Please let this be some freak accident, some gust of wind. I think these thoughts furiously while I tug on Sawyer’s shirt over my head and stand up. Please let this just be that I forgot to lock the door and somehow it came open and in a few minutes we’ll be laughing about this.
Sawyer wrenches open the door to the bedroom, shirtless, jeans on. “Stay here.” He tosses the words over his shoulder, his face a mask of determined rage, and my heart sinks into my toes. Did he know something like this was coming? Did he know, but not warn me?
I wait one heartbeat and follow him, creeping out to where the hallway opens up into the main part of the basement. It’s Sawyer’s voice that I hear first.
“What the fuck are you doing here, Domino?”
I peek carefully out from around the corner. There are two other people in the basement now. One of them looks like a bigger version of Sawyer—muscled arms, dark t-shirt. When Sawyer speaks, he grins, and it’s evil, full of sharp teeth. The other man—the man who Sawyer is looking at—is shorter, but somehow he doesn’t look any less deadly, in his dark jacket.
“I came to collect my property.”
“What property?” Sawyer practically spits the words.
Domino—it has to be some kind of nickname, it just has to be—smiles slowly, like a snake that’s about to swallow a rat whole. “I don’t appreciate it when my staff members leave so abruptly, Sawyer.” It’s like Sawyer hasn’t asked a question.
Sawyer folds his arms over his chest. “It was a sudden decision. I’d have given more notice if I had it myself.”
A giggle wells up in my chest and I have to swallow it back. Why are they talking about notice when this guy is a drug dealer? It’s not like Sawyer quit working at some kind of insurance firm. If he had, his former boss wouldn’t be standing in my living room right now.
“I don’t appreciate it.”
Sawyer shrugs. “There’s nothing I can do about that. I’m sorry if I caused you an inconvenience.”
“You did. And you didn’t even have the courtesy—” It’s meaningless, out of the mouth of somebody like Domino, but he says it anyway. “—to return my property.”
“What property?” Sawyer's voice is completely level, but I can see the muscles in his shoulders tensing. How long is this going to go on before—?
Before Domino either leaves, or something more drastic happens. That’s the scenario that’s unfolding right in front of my eyes, and my entire body goes cold at the thought. These men just kicked in the door of my apartment. They could do a lot worse.
“You have a gun that belongs to me. I want it back.”
Sawyer runs a hand through his hair. “No problem. But my car isn’t here. It’s down the block.”
At that moment, Domino’s eyes shift from Sawyer’s face and land directly on my eyes. My muscles work on instinct, pulling me back around the corner, but his voice follows me. “Come out here, sweetheart. Are you Sawyer’s friend?”
Sawyer doesn’t say anything. I lock my jaws together to keep my teeth from chattering with the icy fear that’s covering me from head to toe and force myself out of the hallway. With every step I take, I’m reminded that Sawyer’s shirt is long but not that long, and like an idiot, I didn’t think to put on panties.
When I come out into the light, Domino whistles. “Wow, Sawyer. You have yourself a nice piece here. What’s your name, gorgeous?” His voice is high, somehow, and that makes it worse.
“Z—Zelda.”
He smiles at me, and it’s a hundred times darker than the smile he gave Sawyer. “That’s an unusual name.”
I’m not sure what I’m supposed to say to that, so I say nothing.
Domino waves a hand. “Come forward a little more, so we can talk.”
I step forward until I’m level with Sawyer. No matter what happens, I’m not going any farther.
“On second thought, maybe we should—”
“Stop playing around, Domino.” Sawyer’s voice is full of command, and when I glance up at him, his eyes are blue pools of rage. “I’ll take you to the car and give you your gun. Don’t push me.”
“Don’t push you?” Domino laughs like Sawyer has just told him the funniest joke he’s ever heard.
Sawyer clenches his jaw, then works to relax it. “It wouldn’t be a good idea.” His tone is totally reasonable. “There are lots of witnesses around here.”
“At two in the morning?”
“People stay up.”
“The whole neighborhood is dark.”
“Then it won’t be hard for you to get out of here with nobody seeing.”
“I don’t care if people see me.” Domino steps toward Sawyer, one step, then stops.
“Let’s go.” Sawyer is finished playing games. My heart jitters in my chest.
“Yes.” Domino nods slowly. “Let’s all go.”
“Zelda isn’t coming.”
“No?”
“No. She’s going to stay right here. She has nothing to do with this, and you have nothing to do with her.”
“I disagree. I happen to know that you took her on a job with you.” Domino’s eyes go back to mine. “Where do you work, sweetheart? The police department?”
I answer before I can think. “At—at the library. I work at the library.”
“Of course you do.” Domino steps toward the door. “You can leave her here with Rick, if that’s what you want.” He jerks his head toward the tower of muscle next to him, and the guy opens his own jacket.
At the sight of the gun in a holster at his waist, my mouth goes dry, and my mind goes absolutely blank. I don’t have to look at Sawyer to feel his tension.
“Or we can all go.”
Please don’t leave me here with him.
Sawyer opens his mouth to answer, but Domino cuts him off. “You know what? Fuck the choices. We’re all going. Come on, sweetheart. You’re going to lead the way.”
Chapter 40
Sawyer
I’m half blind with rage, my stomach threatening to surge its contents up my throat, and I can’t relax my hands. That fucker. She has nothing to do with this.
Zelda walks outside, barefoot, wearing only my shirt, and then starts to turn back, her eyes wide, face pale in the moonlight. She clutches her arms tightly to herself.
From behind me, Domino laughs. “His auntie’s house. You know where it is?”
She nods.
“I can’t hear you, sweetheart.”
“Yes.” Zelda’s teeth are chattering. It’s not bitterly cold out, but it’s not a fucking summer night, either, and she’s got practically nothing on. When she turns around and starts walking down the driveway, the curves of her ass peek out the bottom of the shirt. Under any other circumstance, it would be driving me wild, but I can’t stifle the sick anger boiling in my chest. I want to turn around and swing at Domino, take Rick’s head off with my bare hands. But I can’t, because they have a gun, and I’m not faster than a gun.
Unless—
No. There’s no fucking chance of that. I just need to wait this out. Figure out what the hell to do. If I can get us both out of this alive, I’m going to take her as far away from here as possible.
We turn onto the sidewalk, Zelda’s hips swaying in front of our little parade, and Rick lets out a whistle that makes my jaw clench so tight I think my teeth might shatter.
Then I register another detail that makes my stomach drop right through the concrete sidewalk.
The light from the street lamps isn’t the only light shining onto the road. My aunt’s house might as well be glowing in the damn dark. It’s one light—her bedroom window upstairs—but to me it looks like a floodlight.
Why is she up?
It clicks into place then. Domino and Rick must have paid a visit to my aunt’s house. I don’t know how the fuck they found my address. Clearly, they had that asshole from the job the other night report back on whether I showed up on time and paid him a little extra to fuck around with my car. How th
ey got to Linda, I have no idea. But if she’s awake, it’s because they stopped in.
Zelda pads down the sidewalk, picking her foot up once with a sharp breath of air sucked in through her teeth. I want to reach for her, but I know that the moment I do, this is over. A lancing pain goes straight through my gut. I’m supposed to be protecting her, and she’s out here in the dark, cutting her feet on the sidewalk. This is what I wanted out of. This is what I was getting away from by quitting things with Domino.
It’s my fucking fault that this is happening. It’s my fucking fault that I wasn’t thorough. I should have gone back to the city and ended things that night. Why did I wait? Why did I wait?
It seems like a million years later when we get to my car, parked in my aunt’s driveway for the night. Zelda walks up next to the passenger door and turns around, her lips pressed tightly together, her back straight. Even in the moonlight, I can see the quiver in her chin that she’s trying to hide.
I stand as close to her as I can, then turn and face Domino and Rick, who stand causally in the driveway like they’re doing nothing wrong. Behind them, a black Ford is pulled up to the curb. It doesn’t look like anyone’s in it—Rick probably drove the bastard here from the city.
“I have to get my keys out.” My voice sounds too loud. I’m half hoping that someone will hear me talking and look to see what’s happening. No—there’s nothing there, either. What am I supposed to do if the cops show up? Explain that it’s fine, I’m just the former employee of a fucking drug dealer?
“Jesus, Sawyer. Do you want to wake up the whole neighborhood?” Domino’s tone is damn near jovial, but I see him shift his weight from side to side. He might be the man in charge. That doesn’t mean he wants to be out in the open any longer than he has to be. “Are they in your pocket?”
“Yes.”
“Don’t make any fast moves.”
I reach into my pocket with exaggerated care and pull the keys slowly out, dangling them in the air, the moonlight bouncing off the metal.
“Okay?”
“Go ahead.”
I turn around and click the unlock button, the car responding instantly, and then, carefully, I reach for the passenger door.
“Wait.”
I straighten back up. “What?”
“Do you think I’m that fucking stupid?”
There’s no smile on Domino’s face, just a thin-lipped grimace. “Toss the keys over here.”
I throw them without hesitating, and he tosses them to Rick, who flips through them, then moves toward us. Zelda has to step onto the lawn to get out of his way, but he makes it a point to leer at her as he goes by.
“Which one’s the glovebox key?”
He splays the keys out in front of me. I stab a finger at the right one, then move to stand next to Zelda. Rick holds out a hand. “No fucking way. Stand right here.”
I stand next to the car, every muscle so tense I’m practically fucking vibrating, while he pulls open the door and leans in. The glove box pops open. He takes the gun out, closes it, and then kicks the door shut with his foot, giving me a nasty grin.
“You’re not going to try anything, are you?”
I bite back what I want to say and turn toward Domino. “You should get going.”
“I don’t know about that, Sawyer.” Domino’s teeth flash white when he smiles. “I don’t know if it’s a good thing to have witnesses. Know what I mean?”
Every inch of my skin goes cold. Is he going to fucking shoot us in my aunt’s driveway? She’s probably watching from the window right now. Oh, my God.
“W—wait—” Zelda’s voice is high, trembling.
“Shut the hell up, sweetheart.” Domino gives Rick a nod, and the big man steps around me, toward Domino, and pulls out the gun from his waistband. “Nobody fucks with me, Sawyer.” He says it casually, but his eyes glint even in the dim light from the second floor. “Nobody quits on me like that. Nobody—”
I steel myself, waiting for him to finish his bullshit speech before he kills me, my heart in my damn throat, my stomach going tight. How can I be so fucking scared, so fucking angry—
Domino’s head whips around at the same time Rick’s does, and it’s like slow motion as I follow their gaze.
Somewhere down the road—five blocks, at least—there’s a pulsing blue light, blue and red, blue and red.
The police.
“Fuck,” Domino spits. He looks back into my eyes, mouth twisted. He lets out a frustrated growl, then turns on his heel. “Let’s get the fuck out of here.”
Rick follows him. Of course Rick fucking follows him. But before he does, he steps over to me, his movements so quick and grace I hardly see it coming. I have time to think if he’s moving toward Zelda… and then his fist comes around toward my face, crashing against my cheekbone, exploding with pain. It’s all I can do not to double over.
Then Rick is gone, throwing himself into the driver’s seat of the Ford and Domino leans out the passenger window. “This isn’t over.”
The pain is a spider web over the bones of my face, clinging, smarting. “It’s over, you piece of shit.”
“We’ll see about that.”
Rick says something unintelligible from inside the car, and then they’re speeding away.
I’m left standing with Zelda in the driveway. Behind me, she starts to sob.
Chapter 41
Zelda
My heart races, pounding furiously against my ribs, and for a long few heartbeats, I think I’m going to be sick on the grass. Out of relief, out of shame—all of it.
The night breeze curls in tendrils between my legs. The sound of someone sobbing is loud in my ears but it takes several moments for me to realize that it’s me, that the sound is coming from my own body and not anyone else.
Sawyer is standing frozen in the driveway in front of me, just feet away from his car, staring after the tail lights of the car that his boss just got into with—with what, his replacement? A man who had been his counterpart? I have no idea. I don’t care. I just want to get out of here, go home, and never come out again.
The lights from the police car—no sirens—illuminate the houses in flashes, competing with the street lights. Blue and red, blue and red. Blood rushes to my face. When they get here, what the hell am I going to say? That I didn’t know the two men who broke into my apartment? That I have no idea who Sawyer is, even though I’m standing in his aunt’s driveway with him, wearing his shirt? What am I going to say about standing outside half naked in the middle of the night?
Jesus Christ, what am I going to tell my parents? Am I about to be arrested?
My body turns to the right, then back to the left, but all I can think is run but all my legs can do is nothing. Nothing at all. I’m stuck here, waiting to see what happens next.
Sawyer doesn’t turn to look at me. He just watches the approaching lights, getting closer to us block by block, until they’re at the corner by my parents’ house. His hand drops slowly away from his face.
I gasp in a deep breath that comes out as more sobs.
When are they going to get here? How long can they possibly drag this out?
The lights stop coming forward.
They make a turn, trundling down the street.
A moment later, the lights go off, and the engine of the car revs.
I don’t know whether to feel relieved or ashamed, and everything is a nightmare vortex in my core.
Sawyer’s face, in the dim light coming from the lamp near the curb, is a mask of confusion, cheek already swelling, his eyebrows drawn together, frowning. He stands, solid and still, for another moment, two, then three. Then the muscles in his back relax, his shoulders come down, and he turns to face me.
The concentration on his face slips, and he claps a hand over his mouth. “Zelda—”
“Stop.” I’m a blubbering mess—I can’t get a hold of myself, can’t stop the panic from rising again and again, even though it seems like this might be over�
��and I don’t want to hear what he has to say. The sound of my name lands like a jackhammer in the center of my mind, and a new hot flush of shame cascades down my back.
He comes toward me, arms open, but I jerk away. I can’t help myself. Pain tears through Sawyer’s eyes and he drops his hands to his side. “Listen—I didn’t know that he would do that. I was going to go finish things off in the city, but then it seemed more important to be here. I just—Zelda, please. Please, take a deep breath.”
My gut goes cold, but my body’s reaction can’t be stopped, won’t be stopped, until I’m somewhere I can close a door behind me and really lose it.
“Don’t say another word.” The voice that comes out of my mouth barely seems like mine.
“What?”
“I don’t want to hear another word out of your mouth.” I’m being cruel and I know it, but I’m so angry—I’m so afraid and so angry at him, because how could he be blameless? He must have known—he must have known—
“Let me take you home.”
“Are you kidding me?” I’m trying my damnedest not to be shrill. It’s not working. “How am I supposed to go back there? They kicked in my door. I can’t even lock the door. How am I supposed to keep anyone out when they kicked in the door?”
“Shhh,” he says, and it’s meant to be soothing but it sparks a deep rage somewhere low in my stomach, and I whip my head away, eyes to the side, so I don’t have to look at him.
“I’m leaving.”
“I’m coming with you.”
“No, you’re not.” I raise one hand in the air. “If you come another step toward me, I’ll—I’ll—”
The pain in his eyes gets deeper, and he shoves his hands into the pockets of his jeans, swallowing hard. “Zelda—”
“I mean it.” I sidestep around him, giving him plenty of space while I make my way to the sidewalk. He doesn’t move, just stands rooted in place. “Don’t follow me.”
“I just want to—”