“Not anymore.” His foot is still in the door. “Now he owes me money and told me you hold on to it for him.”
I shake my head. “I’m sure it’s no surprise to you that the man is a compulsive liar. I don’t have any of his money.” Shit, the way this guy is looking at me makes me think money isn’t the only form of payment he’d take. I swallow back the surging stomach acid.
“Your pops owes me five grand, and he told me I could come here and collect.” The man tilts his head and studies me. “’Fraid his problem is now your problem.”
Shit.
That greasy no good piece of shit.
“Five thousand dollars, huh?” I don’t even know what I’m saying as long as it buys time. His foot is still in the door, so I can’t really slam it and grab my phone. “I don’t have that kind of money on me.” Oh God, what am I going to do? I have nowhere to run but inside, and he’ll only chase me down. I think back to Cameron’s self-defense lesson. In order to fight someone bigger, stronger, you reel them in rather than run away. Bringing him inside my house seems insane, but it’s my only chance. “You know what? I can make a healthy payment tonight, and then I’ll put a call in to my dad tomorrow to get things squared away.”
He seems to think over my suggestion before nodding. “That’ll work. Besides, if I don’t get paid the remainder . . . I know where you live.”
My hands shake as I force them to do what seems too risky to chance and open the door. “I have a safe in the kitchen.”
Shit.
I’m dizzy as all the blood rushes from my head to my stomach. If I can get to the kitchen and to my keys, I might have a running chance to get to my car.
He pushes the door open, and I step deeper into my house with him, closing the door behind him. My arms and legs are wobbly, my pulse raging in my ears.
“I keep the safe up there.” I point to the cupboards above the refrigerator and grab my car keys. “There’s a stepstool in the utility closet.” I pretend to fumble through my keys, searching for the right one for a safe that doesn’t exist.
He’s shoulders deep in the closet, fishing out a stepstool. Here’s my chance. In a spring action, I run.
Fear powers my muscles. I fling open the front door.
“You fucking bitch,” he says from still inside.
Dammit! His car is parked behind mine. I split in the opposite direction, through the neighbor’s yard. My legs burn; bare feet ache as I race to find somewhere to hide. All the desert trees are nothing but sticks. He’s gonna find me, fuck! I bolt across the street, pushing my legs as hard as I can.
Strong arms wrap me from behind. “No!”
“Gotchu’, bitch.”
I buck and kick, but he doesn’t let up. Panic seizes me. I jerk hard. Pain lances through my shoulder. “Fuck!”
I slump in his arms as heat and burn blaze up my neck. Did he stab me?
I’ve been held like this before when Cameron was teaching me self-defense. If I can break free of his hold, I can surely get away from this weaselly fuck.
I lean my weight back. Take two steps to the side, throw my knee behind his and sweep his legs out from under him.
He drops his hold and falls.
I take off toward a big apartment building. There has to be somewhere to hide at least long enough for this guy to give up. Maybe he’ll go back to my place and toss it looking for money. That’s my only hope. I scurry under a low staircase that’s tucked in a dark corner.
With no phone, just my car keys, I crouch down in the tiny space. My lungs burn with the effort it takes to slow my breathing. My legs shake with fear and the strain of trying to hold still. I don’t move and pray like hell he doesn’t find me. My dad sent a fucking loan shark to my house, and the worst thing about that is I should’ve expected it. Dammit, why the hell did I open the door?
Because I thought it was Cameron.
The air drains from my lungs in one long defeated breath. Cameron never even called, and I would’ve known because I kept the damn phone with me in bed. And he didn’t stop by. I mentally beat myself up for being so na?ve.
Minutes pile on top of each other until my legs go numb. I have no concept of time, but a deep purple hue bathes the sliver of courtyard I can see from my hiding spot.
There’s no way I’m going to risk going home. He could be hiding anywhere waiting for me. Even an attempt to get to Raven’s is a risk. Going anywhere near my house, even if it’s only to get my car, is a piss-poor idea. So what then? Knock on doors?
Hiya, I’m your neighbor, and I’m being chased by a psycho loan shark. May I come in?
I’ve driven by this apartment complex a million times, and I think there’s a pay phone behind the back parking lot. If I call the cops, they’ll want me to file a report and my dad could go down, or worse, if these guys want retaliation, he or I could end up in a dirt grave. Jonah and Raven are my only chance.