Chapter Twenty-One

Naomi

Paul and I are shelling and deveining the shrimp as music plays. Today I’ve opted for something a little more relaxing—light jazz music. I’m still freaked out over the night before. When I woke up this morning, for a small moment I forgot that I’d had my house invaded by a brick. Then I saw my locked bedroom door, and it all came back.

The least they could have done was leave a note. At least then, I would have some idea what the purpose was behind such an act. Perhaps it was to scare me, to remind me that I’m being watched.

To remind me that Jordan wants Ben out of my life, and he wants me back in his own sordid, messed-up world.

I pull the legs from another shrimp and toss them into a bowl as the music plays, and my mind reels. I’m contemplating what message Jordan was trying to send when Paul clears his throat.

“It’s almost time to open. I’m surprised Katie isn’t here.”

I frown. Why isn’t Katie here? She always comes early to try the daily specials and prepare the dining room. I wipe my hands on a cloth and step out into the dining room to look out the front windows for her. Come to think of it, I got so distracted by Ben last night and my own general fear that I forgot to check that she got home OK.

I am officially a terrible friend. My chest fills with worry as I look up and down the street for my friend, my only waitress. We can’t open without her. Beyond that, I need to know that she’s all right.

I walk back to the kitchen and meet Paul’s curious glance.

“I’m not sure where she is. I texted but she hasn’t answered.” I bite my lip. “I think I’m going to head down the street to her place and make sure everything is OK. Can you hold down the fort? We can’t open without a server, so we’ll keep things shut down until we both get back.

Paul nods. “I can make a sign. Just send me a text when you know and I’ll hang it up.”

Did I mention Paul is the best?

“Thank you,” I breathe.

I don’t waste time. I step out without my jacket, and I rub my arms to block out the cold sea breeze as I walk with purpose down the sidewalk. A blast of frigid air blows up my green cotton dress, and I shiver but press on. Katie’s apartment is situated in a quaint waterfront cottage. There are two apartments in the little building, one on the first floor and one on the second, with its own set of stairs. I approach the whitewashed building and hold my breath.

Please let there be nothing wrong. I’ll never forgive myself if there is.

I leap up her front porch steps until I’ve reached her door. I contemplate knocking, but I can’t help myself. I’m too worried to delay a moment longer. I reach for the knob and turn it. The door presses inward, unlocked.

I thought Ben told Katie to lock her door when she got home last night. Did she forget? I push the door inward, and I’m about to call out Katie’s name when my voice catches in my throat.

Katie’s living room is a cozy little parlor right in front of me. Also right in front of me is Katie, tied to a chair and gagged. Her hair is in complete disarray, and she’s wearing the same outfit she was last night. How long has she been tied up like this?

“Katie,” I breathe. I rush to her side and immediately begin working on the knot tying the fabric around her mouth. It’s tight, and my fingers ache as I fight to free my friend. She mumbles something through the fabric, and I lean back to look at her.

“What?” I ask.

Her eyes dart to the side, and I follow her gaze.

Skippy walks in from the hallway. When he sees me, his eyes narrow.

“What are you doing here? This is a romantic morning for me and my woman. You shouldn’t be here.”

I glare at him and step in front of my friend. It’s not like I can protect her well, being a small woman myself, but I have to try. What is the saying? She may be little, but she is fierce? I have to find a way to keep this guy occupied until I can come up with a plan.

“If this is how you do romance, your love life could use a bit of work,” I say.

Keep him distracted. That’s the name of the game. Behind me, Katie’s terror radiates outward. Guilt stabs at my heart. This is all my fault. If I’d been more transparent with Ben, maybe we could have found a solution sooner.

Maybe we could have put Skippy and Jordan behind bars together. This whole scene could have been avoided.

Skippy takes another step forward, but he stops at the edge of the living room. “You were warned about this. You should have backed off and let things take their natural course, but you didn’t, and now I get Katie as a consolation prize for your failure to cooperate.”

“Those are a lot of big words. You learn those from Sesame Street?”

Skippy snarls, and his crooked teeth are a dull yellow. I hope to god that he didn’t touch Katie with that disgusting mouth. I can only hope at this point, because I don’t know.

Oh god, I don’t know.

“You think being witty is going to get you out of this situation? You’ve got another thing coming. You should have listened to Jordan and joined us. It’s too late for you now.”

“You know, this reminds me of another time when you told me that Katie was none of my business,” I say, dragging out the conversation. I don’t know why. It’s not like there isn’t an inevitable ending to this situation. I glance down at Skippy’s hip and realize that his hunting knife is no longer there.

What is he using as a weapon then? Is there a gun in his back pocket, maybe beneath his shirt somewhere? I have to keep a wary eye out. Perhaps I have caught him unarmed, and that gives me some kind of advantage.

Who am I kidding? I have no advantage but time. And that’s running out fast.

“I was right. It’s even truer now because we’re not at your restaurant. You have no power here.”

“You might be right. But I am still Katie’s friend, and she doesn’t look too thrilled about this situation, so I’m going to have to ask you to leave, since she’s not exactly able to at the moment.”

“I can kick your ass, you know. I’m not afraid to beat a woman who deserves it.”

I hold my stance steady, and I keep my eyes on him. I will not let him see my terror. I will not. “Oh, I don’t think you want to do that. What will Jordan say when I run to him and tell him that his piece-of-shit lackey beat up the woman he loves?”

Skippy scoffs, but I can tell I’ve hit a nerve. A bead of sweat develops on his brow at the mention of Jordan’s wrath. “You’re not his girlfriend. You want nothing to do with him, dumbass bitch.”

“That’s what you think,” I say, thinking fast. “Jordan and I have been a thing for a long, long time. I don’t think he would be too thrilled with anything that displeases me. And this? This displeases me a lot.”

The drop of sweat travels down the side of his cheek, and he swipes it away as he continues to glare at me. I’m confusing him, muddling his mind. If I don’t have brute force, I do have one excellent tool in my belt.

Skippy is an idiot.

“That’s not true. I saw you the other day. You told him to leave you alone.”

I shrug. “We fight. Don’t all couples? I can tell you that we did make up fairly recently though, and that I’ve got a bit more say than you do when it comes to Jordan.”

For the first time since I arrived, doubt colors his eyes. His gaze darts from side to side as he considers what to do, and I get my first rational idea since walking in.

My cell phone. It’s in my back pocket. If I can keep him distracted enough, I can reach back and try to dial for help. It’s going to be tricky, but Skippy is really, really dumb. If I can get him worked up enough, there’s a chance I can get a call out and keep both of us safe until help arrives.

It’s the only chance I have.

“When did you make up?” he asks.

I reach my hand around my back and look up at the ceiling, like I’m contemplating the question. My mind is in two places at once. My fingertips grasp the edge of my phone as my mind whirrs with some kind of backstory to feed Skippy.

“Last night. He came to my place late and we had a good talk. I realized that I was being an idiot running around with that stupid cop. Jordan has always been the love of my life. I’m glad to have him back with me.”

I tug the phone out from my pocket and unlock it with my thumbprint. Now comes the hard part. I have to figure out a way to navigate the screen without being obvious about looking at it.

“That’s impossible. Jordan was with me last night.”

Fuck.

“He may have been with you, but he finished the night with me. Unless you’re suggesting that you were the one in bed with him last night?”

That works. I glance down as though I’m embarrassed to have admitted to sleeping with Jordan. I tap the phone icon on my screen, but if I look down for too long he’ll get suspicious, so I look back up. I can’t rush this. I can’t afford to make a mistake.

“I don’t believe you. Maybe we should call Jordan and ask him.”

Panic fills my lungs, but I force out a breath that comes out as a giggle. “Go ahead, but I doubt he’s going to be thrilled to be woken up for such a bullshit question. We were up until the wee hours of the morning, after all.”

I maintain eye contact with him so that he thinks I’m telling the truth. Everything in me wants to glance back down at my phone, to scroll the small distance to Ben’s name, or even get the keypad option up to dial 911.

At this point, anyone else walking by will help. Maybe screaming will be a good option if I can’t get a call through in time. Or maybe I can manipulate him out of this. I have to try. I can tell the thought of displeasing a grumpy Jordan is less than appealing to Skippy.

“Let’s say I believe you. That doesn’t take away the fact that Katie is mine. If you’re loyal to Jordan, you’ll respect his wishes. He promised her to me!”

“Mm, well, why don’t we ask Katie what she thinks,” I say, and I kneel down by my friend. I glance down and paw through my phone. There’s Ben’s name...

“Hey, what the fuck are you doing?”

He steps closer and sees the phone in my hand. His expression crumples into rage. “You tricky bitch! Drop that phone right now or you’re dead!”

“I’m calling Jordan!”

“Fuck you! Drop the phone, or I’ll shoot!”

He pulls a gun out from behind his back, and my whole body goes cold with fear. I stare up into the barrel of the weapon, and I know one thing for certain.

I’m going to die.