When Emma left Hannah’s house, she stopped at Kellan’s long enough to pack just what she would need. Then she took the dog with her. Part of it was the fact that she didn’t know how long he would be gone, and part of it was that she was feeling just a little petty. Rocco was a great dog, and he deserved great treatment. Kellan didn’t know how to treat anything nicely. It was a shame to waste such a good dog on that low life jerk.
“Come on, big fella,” she said as she closed the door to her father’s house behind her. The sound of it echoed through the living room. She had a grocery bag in one hand, and his leash in the other. She dropped the leash. “Let’s get you something to eat.”
Someone had cleaned up the place. It didn’t smell like cigarettes or medication anymore. It smelled like fake lemons and ammonia. Rocco huffed his dislike and snuffled around the carpet, looking for a place that smelled like him. His leash trailed behind him like a thick ribbon of dark red.
Emma let him explore while she went to the kitchen. She set the big paper bag down on top of the counter and opened the fridge. It had been completely cleaned out. There wasn’t even a ring on the lowest shelf where her father used to keep his favorite beers. For some reason, that seemed wrong. She pushed it away. This wasn’t her father’s place anymore; it was hers. She could sell it or pass it along, or whatever she wanted to do. At this moment all she wanted to do was make something for dinner and then go to bed. Her eyes hurt from crying.
Not that Kellan deserved any tears. Oh no. She had plenty of other reasons to cry. A chip in her nonexistent nail polish was worth more tears than that criminal.
Her phone rang. She glanced down at the ID and saw it was Hannah.
“Hey, girl,”
“Hey, Brains, did you get to your dad’s okay?”
“Your timing is ridiculous. I just got here. I did not crash my car. I told you I wouldn’t. It was only two glasses of wine.” Emma paused. “Wait, if I’m Brains, what does that make you?”
“Beauty, of course,” Hannah teased.
Emma smirked. It felt good to smile. “Gee, thanks.”
“Did you grab a bunch of horrible things to eat?”
Emma pulled items out of her grocery bag and laid them out on the counter. “I have a box of assorted chocolates, mint chocolate chip ice cream, the good root beer that comes in the brown bottles, watermelon gummy rings, and some of those frozen French bread pizza things with everything on them.”
“Oh, that’s the stuff.”
“I even stopped by the Red Box and picked up a couple of movies.” She pulled one more box out of the bag, but didn’t bother to relay its contents. There were some things Hannah didn’t really need to know.
“Chick flicks?”
Emma snorted. “I got The Texas Chainsaw Massacre, the remake of course. The Conjuring. And something called Vampire Sorority Girls. I fully expect that last one to be terrible.”
“Horror?” Hannah sounded confused. “You got a bunch of horror flicks?”
Emma started preheating the oven. “Yeah, they make me feel better.”
Her father’s life had been packed into cardboard boxes and Tupperware containers large enough to fit an entire body. Someone, Hannah probably, had left the lids open so Emma could go through the memories and decide which ones she wanted to keep, and which ones went on to the thrift store. She pawed through one of them, looking for a glass.
“Sweetie, that’s weird.”
Emma laughed. “Why? Because I’d rather see a bunch of idiots get chopped up than watch some pretty boy lie about being super in love with some pretty girl?”
Hannah waited a beat. “All right, you may have a point there.”
“Besides, it’s not like I don’t have a great big fuzzy guard dog to keep me company.” Emma plopped a glass down on the counter and filled it with ice from the automatic dispenser and spilled the contents of one brown bottle into the cup.
“Holy shit, you took Rocco?”
Emma looked through the boxes that were sitting on the dinning room table. After a moment she found a cookie sheet. It was nearly as old as she was. There was a single black ring in one corner where she had burnt a peanut butter cooking to smithereens when she’d been a little girl. She traced her finger over it. “I didn’t take him. I’m watching him. I’ll take him back whenever I know Kellan is done being a big poo-head.”
“Poo-head? Really. Honey, I know you know how to curse better than that.”
“He doesn’t deserve better than that,” Emma growled. Rocco glanced up at her.
“Wow, he really made you mad.” Hannah’s voice rang with empathy. “I know you care about him.”
“I love him. Hell, I didn’t mean to love him. I just…I just do.”
“I know. What are you going to do about it?”
Emma picked up the box and stared down at it. “I don’t know, Han. I really don’t.”
Hannah made a sympathetic sound. “You don’t have to decide right now, Emma. Take the night. Take a few nights. Curl up with your bloody movies, your junk food, and the dog and don’t even worry about him.”
“I will.”
“Did you want me to come over?”
Emma shook her head, even though Hannah couldn’t see it. “Not tonight. But maybe we can go shopping tomorrow? The estate checks from all my dad’s stuff have been deposited into my account. I could splurge and get my hair done and find a sexy dress.”
“Oh, now that’s the spirit.” Hannah laughed. “How about one-thirty? I can drop the little ones off at my sister’s and we can even catch a movie and do a late lunch or early dinner. Whatever comes with margaritas.”
“That sounds perfect. Wear comfy shoes. I plan on running up a bill.”
Hannah made a heady sound. “I love it when a woman talks about bad financial choices.”
Emma laughed. The preheat timer on the oven dinged its readiness. “All right, I’m going to pour myself into a junk food comma.”
“All right, call me if you need anything.”
“I will. Night.”
“Night.”
They hung up. Emma slid a pizza onto the tray and into the over. She let Rocco out into the backyard to run around and relieve himself. Then she plucked her last purchase off the counter and stared down at it.
The box was plain white and just a little longer than her hand. One corner boasted a positive sign, another had a negative one. In the middle were the words Early-sign Pregnancy Test’. Beneath that it continued with, Can be used up to three days before a missed period.
Emma took a deep breath. She was well beyond three days past her missed period. It was heading on day nine. It wasn’t that she’d never missed a cycle before. It happened. She pretty much expected it during finals week, but this was different. She had never been sleeping with anyone during the months before finals week. She knew that unless she was carrying the next baby Jesus that her missed period was all stress related, not pregnancy related. Maybe she was worrying too much about it. Emma had every reason to be stressed out.
She also knew she’d been having round after round of wild lovemaking for the past few weeks. She ripped the plastic off the box and headed for the bathroom.
She never knew ten minutes could take so damn long. The pizza was going to take longer than this. Emma paced the small square of her bathroom floor and waited.
What would she do if she were pregnant? She quickly did the math in her head. By the time graduation rolled around she’d be around twenty-eight weeks. The average human pregnancy was between thirty-seven and forty weeks. If she managed to graduate, she could give birth and defer her loans for the few years of her non-collegiate life so she could take care of the baby. The money from her father’s passing would help. The house was paid off. She might have to get a part-time job after a while, but Hannah could probably help with that. That woman knew people.
Kellan’s face swam up in her mind. How would he feel about having a kid? Well, she knew he wouldn’t be happy about it. Would he be mad at her? Would he think she got pregnant on purpose? Maybe she wouldn’t tell him. That seemed like the best idea. She didn’t want him feeling like he had to participate.
Not telling him was wrong. If there were a child, he helped make it. Kellan had every right to know his kid. She imagined what it would be like to tell him. At first the daydream involved him sweeping her up into his arms, kissing her, and telling her everything was great. She knew that was bull. The daydream broke down piece by piece. His smile became a sneer of resentment, he yelled at her, called her names, and made huge accusations.
Neither of those seemed right, but her brain wasn’t willing to come up with anything else.
“Lots of help you are,” she said to her imagination.
The doorbell rang.
She sighed. It was probably Kellan. He had probably gotten home and saw that his dog was nowhere to be found, and neither was Emma. She glanced at the timer on her cell phone. She had two minutes left until the reading was ready. With an expert finger she flicked the timer into standby. Her hand, still wet from washing it, fumbled and her phone clattered behind the toilet.
“Shoot.”
She thought about going for it when the doorbell went off again.
“Fine, fine, whatever,” Emma muttered. She opened the bathroom door.
Rocco was scratching at the back door. She let him in and he went scampering for the front. The bell rang for a third time. Someone was pissy.
“I don’t care if it is Kellan,” she said petulantly. “He’s not getting any pizza.”
Rocco howled. He snuffed at the front door, and then he growled. Emma stopped with her hand on the doorknob. She took a moment to look through the peephole. Gabriel stood on the doorstep, his creepy brother stood behind him to the left, another man she didn’t recognize stood to the right. She clapped her hand over her mouth to keep from crying out.
“Hey, gringa.” Gabriel’s voice came through the door. The wood didn’t seem as thick or as safe as it should have. “Open up, let us in. We don’t have to make this too difficult.”
Why were they here? Her father was dead. She had nothing to do with whatever had happened between them. Did that really matter right this moment?
Emma took a step away from the door. She tried to be as quiet as possible. A dull part of her hoped they would just leave if they thought she wasn’t there.
“Come on, baby.” Michael said. He made loud kissing sounds. “I wanna show you a good time.”
“We know you are in there. We saw that big ol’ car of yours pull up. Did you think hiding it in the garage was going to help you?”
She had, actually. She hadn’t expected that someone was watching the place. It had been weeks since anyone was here. Emma still kept her mouth closed. She took another slow step away. Rocco barked.
“Fine,” Gabriel called. “Have it your way, white bitch.” A loud thunk followed the words. The sound of a boot hitting the door. She saw the wood buckle, heard a small crack. It might make it through a second kick; it wasn’t going to make it through a third.
She scooped up Rocco and started to run. She had made it two steps when the frame gave and the door blasted inwards. She kept running. Her only thought was to get to her phone, call the police. Where had she left it? She scrambled for the kitchen. Her purse was in there.
Rocco squirmed in her grasp, and slipped through her arms. She felt a hand wrap over her elbow. Martial arts training had her twisting and jerking her arm down and out of the assailant’s reach. She scrambled for her purse. She heard a man cry out, and then the sound of a boot hitting flesh.
Rocco’s cry was one of pain, high-pitched and confused. She whirled.
“Leave my dog alone!”
Gabriel and Michael were standing on either side of the island that separated the kitchen from the rest of her house. Gabriel looked cold, angry, and calculating. His brother’s mouth hung open with the slack look of someone who was really enjoying himself. He scooped up the dog and took one of the legs into his hand. He twisted. The particular wooden sound of bone cracking mingled with the pained cries of the dog. Michael licked his lips.
“Stop it!”
Michael’s eyes were alight as he grabbed the mutt by the nape of the neck.
“Come with us, and he’ll leave the dog alone,” Gabriel offered. “Make it easy.”
Emma watched Michael take another leg. She winced in sympathy. “All right, all right, just let me take care of him.”
Gabriel shook his head. “We don’t have time for that. Someone’s probably already called the cops, a white neighborhood like this? They’ll be here as soon as possible. No matter that your dad was a criminal.”
Emma didn’t know what to say to that. “Can I bring my medicine?”
“What medicine?”
She thought up a lie as quickly as the words left her mouth. “I have a heart condition. I need medicine.”
He seemed to think about it. “Where is it?”
She wondered what it meant that he was going to let her take imaginary medication. Did that mean he wanted to keep her alive for a while? Was that a good thing? She looked over at Michael, with his bright eyes and wet lips. She wasn’t sure that being alive was ultimately a good thing.
“In the bathroom.”
“Miguel can get it.”
She shook her head. “There are a lot of prescriptions. My dad was dying, remember? If you really want to be out of here before the cops, I’ll need to grab it.”
Miguel smirked. “Yeah, daddy went and killed himself with cigars before I could do it with my gun. Shame. All right, Miguel, go with the girl. Michael, you hold onto the dog. If she tries anything stupid, kill it.”
Michael made a small sound that made Emma’s stomach feel queasy. She shuddered. She took one careful step towards Gabriel, and then another, until she was walking around him. He made no move to stop her. Miguel, the other man, was waiting for her near the hallway when she made it out of the kitchen.
She opened the medicine cabinet. Her fingers shook as she looked through the bottles. No one had bothered cleaning these out.
“What’s that?” Miguel asked, looking at the plastic stick sitting on the counter.
Emma didn’t see a reason to lie. Wasn’t there something in Catholicism that said that life was sacred? Maybe they wouldn’t hurt her. Then again, they did shoot people, so maybe they didn’t stick to close to the tenants of the faith. “Pregnancy test.”
“You pregnant.”
“Don’t know yet.”
He eyed the stick. “You want to know?”
She nodded, her hands going still on the medication.
“Then look.”
She picked up the test and glanced at the symbol glaring out of the little plastic window.
“Well?”
“Nope,” she tossed it into the garbage can. “Not pregnant.”
“Maybe next time.”
It was possibly the weirdest conversation she had ever had. “Yeah, maybe next time.”
There were about twelve or so orange bottles lined up on the medicine cabinet shelf. She glanced over each one in turn, and found the one with the most worn label. Her father’s name was invisible. She held it up for Miguel to see, and then made to tuck it in her pocket. Her fingers dipped and the prescription clattered to the ground, following a path similar to that of her dropped cell.
“Shoot.”
Miguel looked frustrated. “Hurry up.”
“Okay,” she said, holding up her hands, trying to look as innocent as possible. “Not a problem.”
She bent, sure to point her ass in his general direction. There was every possibility that he’d look at that before watching her swipe the bottle and her phone. She tucked the cell between her breasts and stood up, holding up the bottle. “Success.”
“Come on.” He grabbed her wrist and hauled her after him. She put up only the most minimal of fights.
“Let’s go,” Gabriel ordered.
“Where are we going?” Emma asked.
“My place.”
“I don’t know where that is.”
He pulled a black bag out of his back pocket. “And you won’t.”
Emma hadn’t known what to expect, but it hadn’t been that. She didn’t know why the idea of being tucked into that dark bag for an indeterminate amount of time made her shiver, but it did.
“Can…can I help the dog?”
“No,” Gabriel said. He made a motion to Michael. “Kill the dog, let’s go.”
“No!” She was diving for Rocco before she knew what she was doing. Miguel wrapped an arm around her middle and hauled her back. She struggled until the two of them fell to the floor. “Don’t!”
Michael’s hands wrapped around the mutt’s thick throat. Rocco kicked out with his back feet, struggling to get away from his killer. He wasn’t watching the dog, though. He was watching her. She looked up into his face. His dark eyes were bright. They had that soft light that a man got when he was looking at something he wanted, something he loved. She saw his tendons strain as Rocco tried to bark through the ever tightening grasp.
“Please, please stop,” she begged.
No one said anything to her. Rocco kept kicking, kept shaking his head. He kicked and struggled. His back leg caught Michael across the arm, and down the side. Michael cursed in his native tongue and threw Rocco across the room. Rocco fell against the ground, and didn’t move.
“No!” she screamed. She struggled to get to the ugly mutt. She wanted to check him, to help him. Miguel grabbed her and she kicked out. Her bare foot caught him across the face. She felt his nose crunch beneath her heel. He growled.
A hand wrapped in her hair and yanked her back. She looked up and up and into Gabriel’s dark eyes. They were oddly beautiful. They weren’t just brown. They were the color of whiskey and copper and earth. They were tucked into a strikingly angular face with high cheekbones and full lips. In another time, another place, he might have been handsome, but his features were contorted with his cold anger. He just looked hard.
“Stop it.” It wasn’t a request. He shook her hair. Her roots burned. She felt some of the strands rip beneath his palm. “Stop moving or I’ll shoot you right here.”
She didn’t listen. Her body fought against his hold. She reached up and grabbed his elbow, raking her nails down his wrist. He snarled and slammed her head forward. Her head rang with the impact of her brow against the ground.
At that moment her cell phone went off. The screen light up inside of her blouse followed by a cheerful trill.
All three men went still.
Gabriel jammed his hand inside her shirt. He didn’t grope her. His anger was well past perversion. He held up the screen. She caught a brief glimpse of Rudy’s name. She didn’t fight anymore.
“Load her into the car.”
They tucked her in the backseat, and then into the black bag. She slumped in her spot. Someone put the seatbelt on her. It almost made her laugh. They were willing to invade her house, hurt her dog, and beat her up, but going around without a seatbelt was just too holy of a law to break. She snorted inside the pitch blackness of her hood.
“What’s so funny, bitch?” It must have been Miguel who asked. The rhythm of his words sounded a little off because of the broken nose.
“Why do I need a seatbelt?” she asked.
“Gotta protect the merchandise.” It was Michael this time. She knew the voice. A hand patted her thigh, lingering on her hip.
She shivered.
Gabriel said something in Spanish. Michael responded. It sounded like he was whining about something. Gabriel gave him an order and the hand lifted away from her hip. Apparently she wasn’t going to be sexually assaulted in the back of the car just yet.
It was a very small comfort. Right this moment, she’d take it.