Eve
At first I thought I was dreaming. The repetitive knock could’ve been the water pipes from my elderly neighbor’s bath time, but it’s the middle of the night. I lie still and focus to hear what it is that woke me up.
Knock, knock.
There it is again. It takes a few seconds for my brain to catch up to realize someone is knocking on my front door. My pulse speeds so much I can hear it thumping in my ears.
Cameron?
It has to be. Whoever is knocking is doing it softly enough to not wake up the neighborhood, but firm enough to get my attention. It has to be him.
I rip the covers off and stumble to the door as if my body is acting on its own accord. If he’s here to see me in the middle of the night, maybe I misinterpreted everything I saw in his living room. He wouldn’t come over in the middle of the night to break up with me, not with D’lilah still warming his bed.
I pull open the door. “Cameron, what’re you—”
“Nope. Not Cameron.” There’s man I’ve never seen before leaning against the doorframe.
I hurry to slam it closed, but don’t make it in time before he blocks it with his foot.
“Now that’s no way to treat a guest. I suppose you learned your manners from your father.” The last word comes out on a snarl. His seedy gaze traces the curves of my body.
“If you’re looking for my dad”—the shake in my voice is unmistakable—“he’s not here.”
“I know he’s not here. Just got finished having a very unpleasant conversation with him where he gave up this address.” His lips curl back over yellowing teeth. From the looks of him, I’d say this guy has seen his fair share of the inside of every casino in Vegas. Stale cigarette smoke wafts off his body in nauseating waves, coming not from his clothes but emanating from his skin. Hell, even the dirty brown and gray color of his hair matches that of smoke.
“Oh, you’re friends with my dad?” I need to think, devise a plan. My thoughts jumble, and I struggle to think through my fear.
“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 naïve.
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.
I wait a few more minutes and close my eyes to tune my hearing. It’s silent and I’m alone as far as I can tell.
With a deep calming breath, I slide out from under the stairs. Crouched low, I wait another few seconds. Still quiet. Starting slow at first, I creep out into the courtyard, making sure to stay to the sidewall and the camouflage of the shadows.
Once I make it through to the rear lot behind the building, I glue my back to the wall before turning the corner. I hope the pay phone I think I remember is real.
Please be there; please be there.
A dog barks. Panic fuels my legs as I beat feet to the phone. Yes! I rip the phone from its cradle and press it to my ear. Think, Eve, think! With a shaky finger, I dial the one, eight-hundred, and now I have to spell collect.
My finger slips. Shit! I hit the lever, look over my shoulder, and try again. Concentrating as if my life depends on it, I dial the damn number and follow the prompts.
“Please hold while we attempt to contact . . .”
I spin around to keep a visual on my surroundings, and wait. My breath quickens, and even though there’s not a soul walking the streets, I’m terrified he’ll jump out at any minute.
I wait, listening to dead air. Come on, Rave. Pick up, pick up. My heart hammers in my chest, and my eyes dart around the open space.
If that jerk was around, he’d nab me no problem. Out here, I’m a sitting duck.
“Your call is connected.” There’s a small click.
“Eve, oh my gosh, Eve? Where are you?” Raven’s voice is deep with sleep and heavy with concern.
“A man came to my house. My dad sent . . .” I can’t breathe. The words rush to the surface and none of them make sense.
“Where the fuck are you?” Jonah’s voice comes roaring through the phone.
“Oh God, Jonah, I’m hiding. I’m . . .” Why can’t I breathe?
“Eve. Calm down. Listen to me.”
“Mm.”
“Are you home?”
“No. I ran.”
“Close to home?”
I nod a couple times before I realize he can’t see me. “Yes, the apartments.”
“Okay, listen. You hear that?”
There’s a grumble in the background. An engine?
“That’s the truck. I’m on my way to you.”
“Okay, okay, okay. Yeah.”
“Breathe, Eve. I’m on my way. You stay on the phone with me until I get there. Won’t be long.”
“Yeah, but what if he finds me out here.”
“Fuckin’ shit.” I hear the sound of his hand gripping the phone tight. “Who the hell’s after you?”
“I . . . I don’t know. Dude just showed up. I ran, hid, didn’t know who else to call.”
“You did the right thing. Just hang tight.”
“Okay, but hurry.”
“I’m three minutes away. You good?”
“I’m scared.”
“Yeah, I get that. Stay on the phone.”
“Okay, I’m . . . okay.”
“Two minutes, babe.”
I don’t answer verbally, but the swell of tears I’ve been holding back begins to well. He’s almost here. I’ll be okay. I blow out a long breath of relief when I see his lifted black truck squeal around the corner.
I run out into the middle of the street to flag him down, not even bothering to hang up the pay phone.