“What’s going on?” I ask, while looking around for the shirt I was wearing last night.
Pressing his finger to his lips, James shakes his head at me as he intently listens to whatever the person on the other end of the line is saying.
If the situation wasn’t so urgent, I’d push and demand he answer me. But whatever is going on has him so freaked out, he rushes to over to his dresser, snatches a pair of pants out of a drawer, and yanks them up his body before I can blink.
I’ve barely got his t-shirt over my head before he’s grabbing me by the hand again and tugging me out into the hallway.
“James, wait a minute,” I plead as I struggle to get my head through the hole of the shirt and not trip and fall on my face.
“We don’t have a minute,” he almost snaps at me, dragging me down the stairs. “Trent and that fucker Dickers are on their way here right now, and they’re bringing a small SWAT army with them.”
At first, what he says is so ridiculous to me, I want to laugh.
The SWAT are on the way to get us? For what?
I mean, I’ve grown up and spent most of my life as the daughter of the Police Chief. I’ve never had to fear the police. It’s pretty much ingrained in me that they’re the good guys. They’re practically my family.
Then the betrayal slaps me in the face and punches me in the gut all over again.
Trent and the fucking SWAT team are on their way…
“Shit!” I nearly shout as I finally shove my head through the damn hole then struggle to get my arms through the sleeves.
James drags me up to the little touch screen panel next to the garage. When he lets go of my hand to punch in a bunch of commands, I take the opportunity to shove my right arm through the sleeve. Before I can get my left arm through the other sleeve, he’s grabbing me again and dragging me toward the door leading to the basement.
“Heading to the safe room right now,” he says into the phone before lowering it a little. Stopping in front of the door, he calls out, “Mitzy!” then drops my hand to blow a shrill whistle.
Mitzy comes running from the living room, her little pink bow bouncing with each step she takes.
But I don’t see Fluffers anywhere…
Bending down to pick up Mitzy, James straightens and tilts his head to the side so the phone is pressed against his shoulder. Then he yanks open the basement door and grabs my hand again.
“Wait,” I say and tug back on my hand. “I need to get Fluffers.”
I start to turn, meaning to do just that, but James tightens his grip on my hand and yanks me forward.
“There’s no time,” he grunts as he drags me down the first two steps, as if that puts an end to it.
As if she’s not important.
“Fuck you,” I practically spit at him and dig in my heels, fighting against him as he continues to drag me down the stairs. “I’m not leaving her behind!”
She’s the only family I have left.
Sighing, James finally stops when we reach the bottom of the stairs and turns to look at me. “I’m sorry, baby, but there’s no time. They’re almost here. We have to get into the safe room now.”
I shake my head and yank on my arm again. “I’m not going in there without her!”
Growling deep in his chest, James bends down and sets Mitzy on the floor. His hand is clenched so tight around my wrist, I know there will bruises tomorrow.
Snapping his fingers, he points toward the bookcase. Like they’ve trained to do this, Mitzy trots over to where James pointed.
Turning back to me, he looks me hard in the eyes and growls, “She’s probably hiding, and she’ll probably be safe. You’re going in the fucking safe room, whether you like it or not.”
I know he’s right. On some level in my brain, he’s completely right.
Fluffers is probably curled up in the corner behind the couch or snoozing comfortably on a chair tucked under the dining room table.
But the part of my brain that still struggles to sleep at night because of all the unlikely shit that’s happened to me that shouldn’t have happened is convinced that Fluffers will fucking die if I abandon her.
I know what the SWAT team is capable of, and I know if they’re really coming for us, we’re seriously fucked. This house is about to be demolished. Trained with military weapons and tactics, they excel at using excessive force. It’s pretty much what they’re known for and highly encouraged.
They’ll destroy everything in their way, and they won’t care if an innocent cat gets caught up in the crossfire.