The beep of the alarm tells me he armed it. The slam of the door punctuates his frustration about leaving.
Sleep pulls me under within minutes. It’s a disorienting, uncomfortable kind of slumber that bounces me between awareness and dreamland. Minutes pass, or maybe hours, as my mind replays Emeric’s tenderness while my body begs me to release my bladder.
At some point, the alarm system sounds its thirty-second entry delay, snapping my eyes open. I force myself up and make a mad dash to the toilet. After a great amount of trickling relief and scorching pain, I debate hunting down a pair of shorts. At the very least, I should put on underwear.
Fuck it. I’m sick, he’s a doctor, and the closet is too damn far away. Stretching the t-shirt down my thighs, I roll beneath the covers and wait for the blessed delivery of medicine.
I must’ve fallen asleep. Schubert leaps off the bed, startling me into a blinking state of grogginess as I try to make sense of the silhouette in the doorway.
Blue jeans. Black V-neck t-shirt. Dark skin. Beefed-up arms… I stare at the Destroy tattoo on his neck and choke.
Am I dreaming? Having a nightmare? This can’t be real. Inwardly, I give myself a once-over. My heart is pounding, lungs panting, throat tight. This is really happening. A spasm convulses through my body.
Lorenzo stares right back with wide eyes. “You’re supposed to be at school.”
Ice saturates my veins as I scramble backward, dragging the sheet with me. “You’re supposed to be in jail!”
He cocks his head and takes a step into the room. “How do you know about that?”
“Why are you here? What do you want?” With rasping breaths, I shove a hand beneath the covers and dig around. Where’s my phone? Fuck, I know Emeric left it right next to me. Where is it? Where is it?
He slinks into the room and pauses in front of the closet. The bed sits in the center with the bathroom on the other side of the door. There’s a lock on that door. I inch my way across the mattress in that direction.
Keeping his body angled toward me, he glances inside the closet, his vile gaze staining everything he looks at. “Shane and I have been casing the place.”
Shane…? Casing…? My head spins as I covertly pick through the blankets. Where is the goddamn phone?
His eyes latch onto my trembling hands, and I freeze. I don’t want to give him any reason to attack me.
Is Shane in the house? Are they here to rob Emeric? Lorenzo was arrested for burglary, but… “How did you get in?”
I slowly shift my legs beneath the covers, hoping to bump into the phone while subtly moving closer to the edge nearest to the bathroom.
Lorenzo crosses his arms over his chest and studies me. “I know these alarm systems. There’s a master code, as well as codes assigned to each user. Shane guessed yours on the third try.”
The date my dad died. My heart caves in.
He tsks. “The weakest link in security is always the human.”
Sweltering pain grips my chest. Why is this happening? I can’t bear it if he touches me again. What the hell am I going to do?
My eyes blur with tears. “You have to leave. I’m expecting a delivery any second.”
He prowls closer. “Your brother is outside on lookout.”
And Shane doesn’t know I’m home? Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I scoot closer to the edge, untangling my legs from the blankets.
Lorenzo stops ten feet from the bed, watching me. “Don’t do anything stupid, Ivory. I know the suit you’re shacked up with is at school. We have hours before he comes home.” His smile forms a vicious fissure across in his face. “You owe me months.”
Changing course, he veers toward the foot of the bed. Anticipating my escape to the bathroom? He’s faster, stronger. If I run, he’ll beat me there.
“Where’s the safe?” he asks as he circles the mattress.
It’s in Emeric’s office, and I know the damn combination. But he won’t just take money. Not now that he’s seen me. I jerk my attention at the closet.
He follows my gaze, his body turning, distracted.
I waste a half-second scanning the sheets for the phone before shoving off the bed and running like hell into the bathroom. Heart racing, I skid through the doorway as he chases, screaming, “Ivory!”
I’m hyperventilating by the time the door slams. I hit the lock. Punch it again. And again. Then I step back, dizzy, nauseous, struggling to breathe. Will the door frame hold? The molding looks thick and sturdy. But will it keep out Lorenzo?
Not for long.
His fist pounds on the door. “Ivory! Open it the fuck up!”
I spin, scanning the bathroom for escape, self-defense, a weapon. The half-moon window is too high, too small, too unbreakable. I rip open drawers and cabinets, digging for something, anything.
Oh God, this can’t be happening. How did he get out of jail? Why did he target this fucking house?
Shane.
That selfish motherfucker knew I lived with Emeric. He’s been gone for three months. More than enough time to find out where I live. Or maybe he’s known all along.