I shook my head. This felt wrong. Something rocked in my gut. It felt like that feeling you get when you’re walking across a suspended bridge and look over, down at the steep drop to a certain death. It was an instinctual feeling. A survival mechanism.
“Don’t open it.” My voice shook. I stood as Beckham walked to the door and looked through the peephole.
He hissed through his teeth, confirming my gut feeling. This wasn’t a surprise pizza delivery by someone with anger management issues, as I had desperately hoped it would be.
“Go to another room.” Beckham looked at me, his speckled green-and-gold eyes holding a darkness in them that told me that he wasn’t playing around.
Except I couldn’t move my feet. And I didn’t want to either. If someone was here, knocking on my door, then I was going to handle it with Beckham. Fear was not going to control me. Not today.
My legs started moving. Instead of going toward the bedroom, I went to Beckham. “Open it.”
There were more hard knocks on the door and then “Open the fuck up!”
Fear regained control. It was like a vicious wolf jumping out of the mist and grabbing me by the throat.
“I know that voice.”
Of course I knew that voice. I’d never forget it. Not even six years later. I heard it every night when I went to sleep, heard it when the nightmares hit.
Whoever was on the other side of the door was the man who attacked me and killed Derrick.
I grabbed onto Beckham’s wrist as black stars flooded my vision, my nightmare come to life and threatening to turn off the lights.
24Beckham Noble
This was the worst-case scenario. I was pissed that I’d made such a rookie fucking mistake. How had I let Juan follow me to Oliver’s place? I had been so riled up from the fight I’d barely even checked my fucking mirrors. I hadn’t taken any longer routes or tried to lose any tails. I’d fucked up and now had to pay for it.
And then Oliver spoke, changing the situation, this shit turning even more dire.
He recognized Juan’s voice. He was one of the assailants that night. And he was currently hammering down on Oliver’s door.
All because of me.
Fuck.
I’d deal with my self-hatred later. Right now, my priority was keeping Oliver safe.
“Please.” I grabbed both his hands. “Go to your bedroom. Lock the door and call the police.”
Oliver took a deep breath. He nodded and left, his face paper pale. I was scared he would pass out, but Oliver stayed strong, making it to his bedroom and closing the door.
“Fucking open!”
The door shook against the pounding. I readied myself. From looking through the peephole, Juan wasn’t carrying a weapon, but his baggy white T-shirt was enough to hide something.
I steadied my hand and opened the door.
“You fuckin’ bitch.”
Juan came at me at a hundred. He started to push against my chest, pushing himself into Oliver’s apartment in the process. I hit his arm away with my forearm. I grabbed the other arm and twisted it. Back in Mario’s apartment, Juan had caught me by surprise and gotten the upper hand, but not this time. I was ready for him this time. And I was being fueled by Oliver’s realization.
This man was responsible for tearing Oliver’s heart apart.
I was going to be responsible for tearing out his.
With all my force, I pushed us back into the hallway. Juan wasn’t expecting it. He went backward like a rag doll. His back slammed against the wall. He gasped in a way that told me all the air in his lungs had been squeezed out. I took that as a chance to grab him by the collar of his shirt. I lifted him, pressing him hard against the wall. He was grabbing at my forearms, kicking at my knees, but the guy couldn’t break a stick if he tried. It was when he was armed that the coward was dangerous. Now, he had the same threat level as a fly.
“Stay away from here.” I spoke with force, each of my words wielded like a blunt weapon.