Nya

I’d been anxious for Jade to go home, eager to avoid her probing questions, but after hours alone, I finally admitted I could have used the company.

Because by myself, in my silent house, I also finally admitted something else.

For the first time since I’d lived here, I was afraid to be alone in my own house.

It was a terrible, heartbreaking feeling, one that was new to me and completely unwelcome. Home had always been my sanctuary, but that feeling, as naive as it might have been, was gone, and I was afraid.

Wondering if the only place I would ever feel safe again was with him.

I didn’t know which was worse. That I had been so close to death, or that the only thing that could make me feel secure in the aftermath was the man responsible for it.

Almost impossible to consider, even more impossible to understand, but that was the plain truth of it. I was glad Patrick had left as abruptly as he had, that I had no way of contacting him.

Because pride—and sanity—be damned, if I’d had a way to reach him now, I would have used it. And I hated that, hated being weak, hated being afraid. I was thankful the choice had been taken out of my hands.

The feeling would pass. Maybe tomorrow, the day after, I wouldn’t see that shiny gun barrel every time I slowed down for more than a second, wouldn’t try to recreate that particular sound of the blast in my head.

Wouldn’t think about the way my heart had pounded as we’d rushed down the stairs, how Patrick’s hand holding mine was the only thing that had kept me from falling apart.

Yeah, I told myself, that last part would definitely fade.

I’d been settled on my couch, but jumped up and started to pace. I considered calling my mother, but looked at the hour and decided against it. Besides, if I talked to her now, she would sense that something was wrong, use that motherly magic to pry it out of me. Or worse, she would come over here. And bring my father with her, of course.

No, I couldn’t call her. I wasn’t up to it, and I didn’t want to scare her anyway.

I heard what sounded like a car outside, so I drifted to the front window cautiously, my heart again speeding.

Had it been only a couple of days ago that the sound of a car passing would have meant nothing to me?

It had, but now that I’d heard the sound, I couldn’t let it go. I peeled back the curtains as slowly as I could, hoping the movement wouldn’t be detectable from the outside.

I peeked and saw a huge sedan slowly creep toward the stop sign at the end of the block. I exhaled, some of the fear that had gripped my stomach loosening.

It was an elderly neighbor who lived two doors down from Jade, undoubtedly going out for bingo as he did three times a week. I smiled, exhaled, chided myself for being so paranoid and promised I wouldn’t freak out every time someone drove by my house.

It worked for a moment too, made me feel almost like myself.

Then I spotted another car.

It didn’t look out of place, not exactly, but I knew everyone who lived on the street and knew most of the people who came to visit them. This car did not belong to anyone I knew.

The man behind the wheel held my attention. Even though I couldn’t see his face, something about him was familiar, achingly so.

Before I knew what I was doing, I slipped my feet into a pair of shoes and was out the door.

I made it one house down when I realized I had left my house unsecured and since Patrick had smashed my phone, I didn’t have that either. And there was the not small matter of rushing out to confront a man who might be dangerous. I paused, thinking, frowning as I did. I wanted to turn back, but I’d never been afraid here, and I wouldn’t be now. I would do this, if only to prove to myself that I could.

And I wanted to know why he was here, and asking was the only way I’d figure it out.

By the time I reached the car, he had rolled down the window.

When he locked eyes with me, I shivered, but this shiver was nothing like the ones his brother inspired.

And there was no mistaking the fact that the man, whoever he was, was Patrick’s brother. I suddenly recognized him from before. I hadn’t paid that much attention but knew now that he’d been the man Patrick had given that stolen car to. I was glad I’d been too distracted, crazed really, to pay attention to him then. If I had, he would have cost me whatever tenuous grip on calm I’d managed to hold onto.

I studied him now, though. He and Patrick had similar features, though this man’s were a bit rougher and his eyes were dark brown, not blue. Still, he and Patrick’s kinship was undeniable.

Of course where Patrick’s gaze could shift between warm and not, this man’s was all ice, and all directed at me.

I slowed, but pride wouldn’t let me stop.

“Is there something I can help you with?” I asked when I reached the car.

My voice was solid, brimming with bravado that I knew was false, and I suspected he knew it too.

“Yeah, you can go back inside.”

He said the words slowly, almost like it irritated him to have to speak to me. Which pissed me off.

I hadn’t asked him to come here, and as I stood there for long seconds staring at him, I decided I’d be fine, happy even, if he left.

“Would you mind leaving?” I said as politely as I could muster, though I could only imagine how unfriendly my expression was.

“Would I mind? Not at all. But I won’t be. Go inside,” he said in a voice that told me he expected me to comply.

I huffed, drew my lips flat like I always did when I was annoyed. “You’re outside of my home. I believe I have some say in whether you’re here or not,” I said, struggling to maintain the politeness in my tone, though it seemed to be completely lost on him.

“Yeah, well, you don’t,” he replied.

“Look,” I said, narrowing my eyes, “I—”

He shook his head faintly, the motion almost imperceptible but the sharpness in his eyes anything but. “Take it up with Patrick. And don’t make me repeat myself.”

He rolled the window up then but he kept his dark eyes on me.

Patrick’s directness appeared to be a family trait.

I suspected his stubbornness was as well.

Since there was little chance I would get this man to leave, I was struck by the thought I might not want him to. Yeah, I was pissed at what had happened, annoyed at this man’s attitude, but now that some of my reason had started to return, I could admit I felt incrementally better having him here.

I turned and went back toward my house, considering that.

Patrick had said that I wouldn’t come to harm, had spouted off about what Murphys do, but I’d brushed it off at the time. He didn’t seem to be a liar, didn’t seem to care enough to do so, but I hadn’t taken him at his word.

That looked to be a mistake.

Unless…

I tried to stop the thought, but it was futile.

Maybe that man was here for my sake. But he could’ve been here for another reason as well. Could have been Patrick’s eyes, his chance to find out who’d come after him when they came after me.

I looked over my shoulder at the car, saw Patrick’s brother staring at me, again felt that urge to shiver.

Yeah, I’d almost allowed myself to get caught up in warm fuzzies, when I should have been focused on the more obvious conclusion.

I was bait.

And this entire situation was fucked.

How many times would I have to realize that before I finally accepted it? When would the truth of it break whatever hold Patrick had on me?

When I reached the house, I went inside, closed, locked, and bolted the door, though I wasn’t deluded enough to think that was for anything other than my benefit.

I grabbed my cordless phone and punched in Jade’s number.

“You called about the black sedan?” she said before I even said hello.

I laughed, though there was little humor in it. I was shocked I’d even managed to laugh at all with the world of shit I was in. “Yeah,” I replied.

“Registered to some shell company. Belongs to your friend Mr. Murphy I take it?”

“Looks like,” I said blandly.

“Nya, I know I always tease you and say you work too hard, but really…”

She trailed off, but before she had, her voice had taken on an edge of sincerity.

“It’s okay, Jade. This will blow over,” I said.

I didn’t believe that, and she didn’t either, but after a deep sigh, she said, “Okay. But if you need me.”

“I’ll let you know. And, Jade…”

“Yeah?” she said.

“Don’t look for anything else, okay? Just leave this alone. Promise?” I said urgently. I shouldn’t have called her yesterday, but I hadn’t been thinking. I was now, and I wouldn’t let Jade get involved with this.

“But don’t you think you should have more information?” she protested.

Even though she couldn’t see me, I shook my head. “I’m serious, Jade. Stop.”

Knowing Jade like I did, I knew she had plotted out her next step, that she would find out all there was to know about Patrick Murphy, or damn well try. I couldn’t let that happen, wouldn’t let Jade put herself at risk.

“Okay,” she finally replied on an exaggerated sigh.

“I’m serious,” I said. “Promise.”

“Nya, don’t—”

“Promise me, Jade,” I said.

She paused for long seconds, considering until she finally spoke. “Fine,” she mumbled. “I promise.”

The words lifted some of the weight that pressed at my chest. Jade’s word was golden, and not once in our decade of friendship had she ever broken it. Not once.

“Thank you. I’ll call if I need you,” I said.

“I’ll sit by the phone because you might need me sooner than you think.”

“What do you mean?” I asked.

A second later, the doorbell rang.