I’d laugh, if I wasn’t so horrified by the sight of him carrying my entire wall-safe, covered in sheetrock dust and dented in on all sides with the shapes of crowbars, the door twisted off its hinges and hanging on by a scrap.
He turns it upside down like a kid shaking a bag of Skittles for the very last piece. “Nothin’ else in here, Miss Lockwood.”
One of the others has the deposit bags that were inside the safe, and he’s unzipped them to flip around inside with his thick fingers before grimacing. “Maybe two large, if that. That ain’t even dinner.” He gives me a contemptuous look, then spits on the floor and tosses one of the empty bags at my feet. “Fuckin’ pathetic.”
Part of me bristles.
I’m trying my best, dammit.
But my sense of self-preservation keeps me stock-still, while Paisley sniffs, turning her head toward them and tossing her chin at the door.
“Get it in the car,” she says before turning those cutting green eyes back on me. “You’d better have a fire sale, Fe-lic-i-tee.” Have I mentioned how I hate the way she says my name more than a fire ant facial? “Because if you don’t have more for me by my next visit...”
Oh, no.
She tips the knife up until the point presses into the soft underside of my chin, smirking while I suck my breath in and hold it, that metal so cold yet quickly warming with my body heat.
“We’ll just have to go see Mommy Dearest then, won’t we?”
I don’t dare speak.
Not when the slightest movement might send that blade skating across my flesh.
Not when if I open my mouth, I’ll just start sobbing tears of pure, impotent rage.
So I wait, while Paisley holds my eyes like a promise.
Until she walks away, with one last hateful look.
Until the knife fades from my flesh.
Until the door jingles, too merry and bright, and in a sweep of headlights and the dull roar of an engine, they’re gone.
And I’m alone.
Collapsing to my knees with a sob and cursing the day I was ever born a Randall.
4
Gold Medal (Alaska)
I have no idea what’s happened to Felicity, but it’s obvious something’s catastrophically wrong.
I’m calling out before I know what I’m doing, shoving the door open.
“Felicity?” I bark out breathlessly. “Are you hurt?”
She flinches backward, tumbling onto her ass and jerking away, her arms coming up defensively—only to freeze.
She stares at me, her eyes wet streaks of mascara running down her face in sooty trails.
“...Alaska?”
“Yeah. Fuck. Sorry for startling you.” I take a step closer, then drop down on one knee in front of her.
Looking her over, I don’t see any injuries, but she looks so frazzled. So broken.
There could be anything from bruises to fractured bones under her jeans and that trim, fitted plaid blouse making her look so small now.
“What happened? Did they hurt you?”
“Nothing but my pride,” she manages. Her voice comes thick.
She’s normally got a kind of low burr to her sound, this pitch like melted chocolate. Now it’s like she’s been sucking on mud.
I want to reach out to her, to cradle her face, to bring her comfort before she whispers again.
“I’m fine.” She looks around, dazed, then shrugs.
“This isn’t fine,” I throw back, casting a heavy look.
“It’s nothing.” She bites her lip, then sniffs and rubs her nose. “Sorry, I don’t mean to snap. I just...”
“It’s a lot. I get it,” I say. “You’re upset. It’s okay. Did they break in?”
“More like...walked in. We know each other,” she says faintly. I realize she’s not just surveying the damage. She’s avoiding looking at me. “It’s not your problem, dude. Just an argument with a contractor. It got a little out of hand and, well, here we are.”
My shoulders tense, squaring at my sides.
Contractor dispute? Sounds like bull.
I don’t want to call a pretty lady a liar, but hell.
I’d bet a month’s pay she’s not telling me the truth.
My mouth opens to question her—then snaps shut again.
I have no right to demand answers from her.
Up till yesterday, I wasn’t even on a first-name basis with this gal.
Even so, I’ll be damned if I want to let it go. I just can’t scare her off either, not when she’s in this state.
Under these circumstances, playing it cool might be the only option.
My phone’s in my hand in a flash, thumb hovering over the emergency icon. “You say the word, and I’ll call Langley. They couldn’t have gotten too far if you want ’em hauled in for questions.”
She lets out a bitter snort.
“You’re definitely new around here. You think Mayberry’s going to do anything?” Her lips look more like a wrinkle than a true smile.
“...fair enough.” I sigh heavily. “Should still file a police report. Maybe something with Blake and the fire department, too.”
“Oof. That’s the last thing I want to do.”