Cross Fire, page 21
I didn’t notice Sam in the kitchen until he stood up from behind the open refrigerator door and said with what sounded like indifference, “Holly.”
“Sam,” I replied with a tense smile. I slid my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and returned my attention to Jace. “So you’re kind of a spaz, then.”
“Oh, totally,” she agreed, with several dizzying bobs of her head. “I have a few sips left if you want them.”
“That would probably send me into irrational fits of giggling for hours. I think it’s safer for everyone if I pass.”
“I might like to see that,” Jordan admitted. He glanced both ways down the hall before stepping inside and locking the door behind him.
I smiled at him. “The last time that happened, I think it involved feet.”
Jace sucked in a quick breath and said, “Don’t you dare tell that story.”
Jordan grinned. “I would love to hear that story sometime, but Sam and I have snacks to prepare.”
“I can help prepare snacks,” I offered.
“We actually wanna be able to eat them,” Sam said evenly.
Ha-ha. I wasn’t that bad.
“I offered to help too, but for some reason they want us out of the kitchen today,” Jace said, with a puzzled shrug. “I’m a good cook too, but whatever.”
Jace could catch a potato on fire in the microwave, but I decided not to mention that. Jordan strolled into the kitchen and punched Sam in the arm in some form of manly greeting as he grunted, “Hey.”
Sam frowned and punched Jordan back a little harder, sending him stumbling. “Hey.”
Jordan arched an eyebrow at him but didn’t retaliate. “Did you check the grounds before I got here?”
“Yep, we’re good.”
I shrugged off my coat and curled up in the corner of Jace’s couch with a pillow. Happiness filled me when I saw my fat cat, Jordan, gallop out of her bedroom toward the couch. He chirped at me in recognition.
Jace scooped him up and set him on the couch before plopping onto the cushion next to me. “Your cat is a beached whale. I’m putting him on a diet.”
I hugged my chubby kitty and peppered the top of his head with kisses. “He’s just huggable.”
She gave me a look. “His fat rolls have fat rolls. And when he runs across my floor, the people below me think it’s thunder.”
I laughed. That was one benefit of living in a basement. There weren’t any tenants beneath me to complain about the noise.
He wiggled free and stretched out across my feet, purring. It was like a fuzzy foot massage.
Jordan and Sam were chatting in the kitchen as they prepared the snacks. I heard Sam growl, “This morning was the third time I’ve gotten into my car to find that someone switched my radio to the Spanish-Mexican station.”
“Like they physically got in your car and changed the station?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah, and I never see it happen. And just to make sure I understood it wasn’t a glitch, they left this tied to my antenna this morning.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny Mexican flag. “One of these days I’m gonna punch Collin in the face and relieve him of his teeth.”
“Get in line,” Jordan grunted.
Jace inhaled a breath to say something, then seemed to lose her nerve, which was unusual for her. She tended to just blurt things out without a filter. She tried again.
“So I know you don’t like to talk about your past, but this Collin guy . . . is he like . . . an ex-boyfriend or something? Is he the reason you don’t date? I mean he’s obviously unhinged, so I completely understand if he put you off dating.”
She looked at me expectantly.
How did I explain Collin to her without sending her into overprotective mode? “It’s . . . complicated.”
“I’m totally okay with the abridged version.”
I shifted in my seat, and my cat gave a rumble of disapproval. “He was my foster brother, and he’s”—a psychotic, sadistic lunatic—“overly interested in me.”
Her face crinkled in what looked like disgust. “As in he has a crush on you?”
“I don’t know that I would call it that.”
“I know you’re not biologically related, but . . . ew. There are just some boundaries you don’t—”
“We’re not talking about serious things, are we?” Jordan asked from the kitchen, and the look in his eyes when he met mine told me he had overheard our conversation. “Because we’re supposed to be having fun.”
“Fine,” Jace said on a theatrical sigh. “But I mean, she’s staying with Marx because of him, so that means he’s dangerous, right?”
Sam walked into the living room and handed her a massive bowl of popcorn and a root beer. “Yes, he’s dangerous,” he said. “That’s why you’re supposed to call me immediately if you even think you see him in the area.”
I gave him a grateful smile. I deeply appreciated that he was looking out for her. He returned my smile before fetching another bowl of popcorn from the kitchen.
He detoured to the window on his way back, pulled the sheer curtains aside with two fingers, and peered down into the front yard of the apartment property.
“Got the cards,” Jordan announced. He walked quickly behind the couch and snitched a handful of popcorn from Jace’s bowl.
She swatted at him, but his reflexes were faster.
He plopped into one of the wooden chairs on the other side of the coffee table. Sam handed me a bowl of popcorn and then sat down beside him.
Jordan shoved a hand into Sam’s personal popcorn bowl and retrieved a fistful of buttery popcorn. “Thanks,” he mumbled before popping it in his mouth.
Sam glowered at him. “Really?” He shoved the bowl at Jordan and then got up and went back into the kitchen. I heard the familiar crinkle of popcorn paper and then the hum of a microwave before he called out, “Holly, do you want a drink?”
“There’s chocolate milk in the fridge and marshmallows in the cupboard,” Jace called back before I could answer.
Sam appeared at the edge of the kitchen with a bemused frown. “What am I supposed to do with the marshmallows?”
“Holly likes marshmallows in her chocolate milk.”
Sam arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m not even gonna comment on how weird that is.” He disappeared back into the kitchen.
He returned a minute later with my drink and his new bowl of popcorn. He shot Jordan a warning glare as he sat down. “Take my popcorn and I’m gonna take a finger.”
“Harsh,” Jordan replied with a smile. He opened the box of cards and shuffled them. He licked his thumb and began to deal them around the table.
“I’m not touching that,” Sam said when the card landed on the table in front of him.
Jordan paused for a beat. “Why not?”
“Because you licked it.”
“I didn’t lick it. I licked my thumb.”
“And then you smeared it all over the card.”
Jordan gave him a funny look. “And?”
“I’m eating,” Sam explained. “I’m not gonna touch a card dripping with your spit and then use the same hand to put popcorn in my mouth.”
“Dripping with my spit,” Jordan repeated. “You mean like this?” He gave another exaggerated, slurping lick of his thumb, plucked a card from the top of the deck, and dropped it in front of Sam.
Ewww. I tried not to wrinkle my nose in disgust. Sam just got up from the table and walked away, muttering under his breath about unsanitary people.
“I take it Sam doesn’t like germs?” I whispered to Jace.
“Nope. We can’t even eat from the same bowl of chips and salsa when we go out for Mexican,” she whispered. “And don’t even get me started on buffets.”
Jordan scooped Sam’s cards back into the deck and redealt, minus the thumb licking. Sam eventually caved and brought a bottle of hand sanitizer over with him so he could join the game. He and Jordan bickered back and forth like brothers the entire time.
Sam slugged Jordan in the arm and nearly knocked him out of his chair for trying to steal another handful of popcorn.
Jordan laughed and then rubbed his arm. “Ow! What do you expect me to do? Take Holly’s popcorn? That’s a violation of the border laws.”
“Go make your own,” Sam suggested. “Or wimp out and beg her to share with you. She’s an irrationally nice person. She might consider it.”
I hugged my bowl of popcorn protectively closer.
“Yeah, I don’t think she’s gonna share with me. Besides, yours is closer.”
Jordan made one last halfhearted attempt to steal Sam’s popcorn, and then seemed to decide it would be less painful to make his own.
The pizza arrived a few hours later. Jordan paid the delivery man and opened the top box as he was kicking the door shut. He pulled out a slice of pepperoni and sausage. The molten hot cheese practically oozed off the crust into his mouth.
“Hot,” he exhaled, blowing out steam. He shoved the pizza boxes at Sam and fumbled for the first cold drink he could find. He took a few deep gulps and then said, “Wow, that was hotter than I expected.” He glanced down at Sam, who was giving him a flat look, and then back at the glass in his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, was this yours? You want it back?”
“No,” Sam gritted out. “You can keep it. I’ll get another one.”
Jace chewed on a fingernail as she observed their interaction. I tried not to smile, but Sam as a germaphobe was just kind of funny and unexpected.
“I’ll get you another Pepsi,” I offered, and I went to fetch him one. I grabbed a fresh glass and a cold can of pop from the refrigerator, but I paused at the threshold of the kitchen.
Jordan and Jace were laughing about something, and Sam was shaking his head with a small smile on his lips. Seeing their joy warmed me, and knowing I was somehow a part of it . . .
I had spent so much of my life living on the fringes of society, hiding from everyone who might be a threat, that I’d forgotten what it felt like to be included, to have a group of friends to just . . . laugh with.
It made me feel like I mattered.
Sam caught me watching them from the kitchen, and I flushed with embarrassment when he stood and walked over.
“You get lost?” he asked.
I smiled and offered the drink to him. “Nope.”
He took it and cocked his head as he studied me. “In all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this calm. You’re usually jittery.”
I tucked my fingers into the back pockets of my jeans and rocked on my toes. “It helps knowing I have Jace to protect me if anyone creepy shows up.”
His lips quirked in a barely perceptible smile. “Yeah. I heard about the ice rink.”
I knew he had. This entire “party” was designed to help me feel safe after Collin’s visit had ripped open wounds that had barely begun to heal.
“Thank you,” I said. “For helping me feel safe.”
He studied me for a long moment and looked as if he might have something meaningful to say, then shrugged and grunted. “Sure.” He stalked back into the living room, and I followed with a smirk.
Sam was a man of few words.
We spent the rest of the afternoon playing games and watching movies, and as the day progressed, I felt some of the knotted tension in my body begin to ease.
“You ready to head out?” Jordan asked when it was nearly dusk.
“Yep.” I stood and stretched. Jace and I hugged good-bye, and I gave Sam a wave before opening the door to leave. I barely swallowed a scream when I found a man standing just on the other side.
Recognition slowly dawned, and my heart rate slowed. It was my landlord, frozen with his shoulders bunched in surprise and his fist raised to knock.
“Mr. Whittaker?”
“Ms. Cross,” he squeezed out, going a shade paler. “I wasn’t . . . expecting you . . . here.”
I folded my arms and glared at him with suspicion. “You’re not here to make an arrangement with my friend, are you? Because her boyfriend is a cop.”
I hadn’t thought it possible, but he paled even more.
“Holly, I’ll take care of it,” Sam said, brushing past a slightly confused Jordan. “Whittaker,” he said with disdain. He stepped into the hall, forcing my landlord to retreat, and then closed the door.
“Who’s that guy?” Jordan asked, throwing a thumb toward the door.
“The new landlord.” Jace leaned forward on the couch and whispered, “Sam’s been talking to the other tenants, and apparently Mr. Whittaker has been making some indecent propositions with some of the female tenants. Not me, but ones who have like no family and stuff. Sam confronted him, and now the guy’s like all agreeable and stuff. Promising not to cause anymore trouble and whatnot.”
Sam came back in and closed the door behind him, his expression tight.
“What’s going on with this guy and his female tenants?” Jordan demanded, before anyone else could speak.
Sam glanced at me before answering, “There are three young women in this building without family in the area, aside from Holly, and when they couldn’t pay the extra fee Mr. Whittaker threatened to impose for one reason or another, he offered them an alternative to eviction.”
“What kind of alternative?” Jordan asked.
“A sexual arrangement. He also approached Holly.”
“I . . . never said anything about . . . anything like that,” I stammered uneasily.
Jordan’s jaw tightened, and he leaned closer to whisper, “Your lips are twitching.”
I bit down on my lips in frustration.
“I doubt you’re the exception, Holly,” Sam said. “Either Marx interrupted, or you just didn’t tell him that part for fear Mr. Whittaker might mysteriously disappear.”
I glared at him.
“I’ll take that as confirmation.”
Jordan cast me a worried look. “This guy doesn’t have keys to your apartment, does he?”
I shook my head. “Just me.” A fact about which I was immeasurably relieved. No more landlords sneaking in uninvited. “And I don’t think he’s gonna bother me again anyway. Marx listed himself as my next of kin on the information card, and Mr. Whittaker’s afraid of him.”
Sam grunted in amusement. “Not surprising.”
“Why were you talking to Mr. Heebie-Jeebie anyway?” Jace asked, giving a theatrical shudder just to emphasize her point.
“We made an arrangement of our own.”
Curious, I asked, “Does it include a bullet-point list of all the logical reasons he shouldn’t creep on people?”
Sam gave me an unamused look, and I smirked. “No. I agreed not to make his life miserable so long as he doesn’t harass his tenants, and he informs me of any unexpected male visitors or suspicious activity.”
The look he shared with Jordan made my stomach flip over. Unexpected male visitors like Collin?
I tried to keep my voice even and strong, but it came out thin with fear. “He’s here? Collin’s here?” Was that why Mr. Whittaker had stopped by?
“Possibly,” Sam replied. “Whittaker’s supposed to call me if he sees him in the area, but since I was here, he decided to tell me in person.” He turned his attention to Jordan. “I’m gonna do a quick check of the property, and then I’ll escort you and Holly to your car.”
I sank onto the arm of Jace’s couch after Sam left and tried not to let Collin’s potential nearness unravel my nerves. I felt Jace’s arms come around my waist, and she pressed her face against my back.
“It’s gonna be okay, Holly. He can’t get to you here. Not with Sam and Jordan in the way. No guy in his right mind would try that.”
I forced a nod, trying to believe her, but I wasn’t sure the phrase “in his right mind” applied to Collin. When the doorknob turned a few minutes later, I stiffened with apprehension, but it was only Sam.
“We’re clear. Let’s go,” he said.
Jordan gestured for me to go ahead of him, and we walked down the hall single file, with me in the middle. Even though I knew they wouldn’t let Collin touch me, I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting frantically over every visible inch of grass and sidewalk when we stepped outside.
My gaze landed on my apartment, and I felt a pang of longing. I missed my home and the sense of independence that came with living on my own and providing for myself.
Someday I’ll get there again.
As we neared Jordan’s car, I noticed something propped on the hood. It looked like a toy. Jordan slipped around me and walked to the front of his car.
A puzzled line formed between his eyebrows.
He picked up the item and showed it to us. It was a Sheriff Woody doll from Toy Story, and there was a small envelope attached to it.
“It’s addressed to Wyatt,” Jordan said with a grimace.
Sam folded his arms. “He leaves me a Mexican flag, and he leaves you a sheriff doll. The guy lacks creativity.”
Jordan opened the envelope and pulled out a key card with a hotel symbol on it.
My breath caught. “Please tell me that’s not the key card for your hotel room.”
He pursed his lips and flipped the card to show us the room number written in black permanent marker. “That’s my room number. I left the spare key card on the nightstand when I left the room this morning.”
I stared at him. “He was in your hotel room?”
“Maybe. But the keys aren’t labeled with numbers; they’re programmed. So it’s possible he just knows my room number and wrote it on a different card to prove he knows where I’m staying.”
“He’s trying to unnerve you,” Sam said.
“And yet all he’s managed to do is annoy me.”
They both seemed unusually calm considering Collin might have been in Jordan’s hotel room. At the very least, he knew exactly where Jordan was staying.
“What do we do?” I worried, looking between them.
Jordan unlocked the car and opened the passenger door. He tossed the doll and card into the backseat like they were no more important than crumpled burger wrappers, then stood back with his hand on the top of the door. “We take you back to Marx’s place like we planned.”
“But what about—”
“We’ll take care of it,” Sam said, but he offered no further details. “Good night, Holly.”
“Sam,” I replied with a tense smile. I slid my hands into the back pockets of my jeans and returned my attention to Jace. “So you’re kind of a spaz, then.”
“Oh, totally,” she agreed, with several dizzying bobs of her head. “I have a few sips left if you want them.”
“That would probably send me into irrational fits of giggling for hours. I think it’s safer for everyone if I pass.”
“I might like to see that,” Jordan admitted. He glanced both ways down the hall before stepping inside and locking the door behind him.
I smiled at him. “The last time that happened, I think it involved feet.”
Jace sucked in a quick breath and said, “Don’t you dare tell that story.”
Jordan grinned. “I would love to hear that story sometime, but Sam and I have snacks to prepare.”
“I can help prepare snacks,” I offered.
“We actually wanna be able to eat them,” Sam said evenly.
Ha-ha. I wasn’t that bad.
“I offered to help too, but for some reason they want us out of the kitchen today,” Jace said, with a puzzled shrug. “I’m a good cook too, but whatever.”
Jace could catch a potato on fire in the microwave, but I decided not to mention that. Jordan strolled into the kitchen and punched Sam in the arm in some form of manly greeting as he grunted, “Hey.”
Sam frowned and punched Jordan back a little harder, sending him stumbling. “Hey.”
Jordan arched an eyebrow at him but didn’t retaliate. “Did you check the grounds before I got here?”
“Yep, we’re good.”
I shrugged off my coat and curled up in the corner of Jace’s couch with a pillow. Happiness filled me when I saw my fat cat, Jordan, gallop out of her bedroom toward the couch. He chirped at me in recognition.
Jace scooped him up and set him on the couch before plopping onto the cushion next to me. “Your cat is a beached whale. I’m putting him on a diet.”
I hugged my chubby kitty and peppered the top of his head with kisses. “He’s just huggable.”
She gave me a look. “His fat rolls have fat rolls. And when he runs across my floor, the people below me think it’s thunder.”
I laughed. That was one benefit of living in a basement. There weren’t any tenants beneath me to complain about the noise.
He wiggled free and stretched out across my feet, purring. It was like a fuzzy foot massage.
Jordan and Sam were chatting in the kitchen as they prepared the snacks. I heard Sam growl, “This morning was the third time I’ve gotten into my car to find that someone switched my radio to the Spanish-Mexican station.”
“Like they physically got in your car and changed the station?” Jordan asked.
“Yeah, and I never see it happen. And just to make sure I understood it wasn’t a glitch, they left this tied to my antenna this morning.” Sam reached into his pocket and pulled out a tiny Mexican flag. “One of these days I’m gonna punch Collin in the face and relieve him of his teeth.”
“Get in line,” Jordan grunted.
Jace inhaled a breath to say something, then seemed to lose her nerve, which was unusual for her. She tended to just blurt things out without a filter. She tried again.
“So I know you don’t like to talk about your past, but this Collin guy . . . is he like . . . an ex-boyfriend or something? Is he the reason you don’t date? I mean he’s obviously unhinged, so I completely understand if he put you off dating.”
She looked at me expectantly.
How did I explain Collin to her without sending her into overprotective mode? “It’s . . . complicated.”
“I’m totally okay with the abridged version.”
I shifted in my seat, and my cat gave a rumble of disapproval. “He was my foster brother, and he’s”—a psychotic, sadistic lunatic—“overly interested in me.”
Her face crinkled in what looked like disgust. “As in he has a crush on you?”
“I don’t know that I would call it that.”
“I know you’re not biologically related, but . . . ew. There are just some boundaries you don’t—”
“We’re not talking about serious things, are we?” Jordan asked from the kitchen, and the look in his eyes when he met mine told me he had overheard our conversation. “Because we’re supposed to be having fun.”
“Fine,” Jace said on a theatrical sigh. “But I mean, she’s staying with Marx because of him, so that means he’s dangerous, right?”
Sam walked into the living room and handed her a massive bowl of popcorn and a root beer. “Yes, he’s dangerous,” he said. “That’s why you’re supposed to call me immediately if you even think you see him in the area.”
I gave him a grateful smile. I deeply appreciated that he was looking out for her. He returned my smile before fetching another bowl of popcorn from the kitchen.
He detoured to the window on his way back, pulled the sheer curtains aside with two fingers, and peered down into the front yard of the apartment property.
“Got the cards,” Jordan announced. He walked quickly behind the couch and snitched a handful of popcorn from Jace’s bowl.
She swatted at him, but his reflexes were faster.
He plopped into one of the wooden chairs on the other side of the coffee table. Sam handed me a bowl of popcorn and then sat down beside him.
Jordan shoved a hand into Sam’s personal popcorn bowl and retrieved a fistful of buttery popcorn. “Thanks,” he mumbled before popping it in his mouth.
Sam glowered at him. “Really?” He shoved the bowl at Jordan and then got up and went back into the kitchen. I heard the familiar crinkle of popcorn paper and then the hum of a microwave before he called out, “Holly, do you want a drink?”
“There’s chocolate milk in the fridge and marshmallows in the cupboard,” Jace called back before I could answer.
Sam appeared at the edge of the kitchen with a bemused frown. “What am I supposed to do with the marshmallows?”
“Holly likes marshmallows in her chocolate milk.”
Sam arched an eyebrow at me. “I’m not even gonna comment on how weird that is.” He disappeared back into the kitchen.
He returned a minute later with my drink and his new bowl of popcorn. He shot Jordan a warning glare as he sat down. “Take my popcorn and I’m gonna take a finger.”
“Harsh,” Jordan replied with a smile. He opened the box of cards and shuffled them. He licked his thumb and began to deal them around the table.
“I’m not touching that,” Sam said when the card landed on the table in front of him.
Jordan paused for a beat. “Why not?”
“Because you licked it.”
“I didn’t lick it. I licked my thumb.”
“And then you smeared it all over the card.”
Jordan gave him a funny look. “And?”
“I’m eating,” Sam explained. “I’m not gonna touch a card dripping with your spit and then use the same hand to put popcorn in my mouth.”
“Dripping with my spit,” Jordan repeated. “You mean like this?” He gave another exaggerated, slurping lick of his thumb, plucked a card from the top of the deck, and dropped it in front of Sam.
Ewww. I tried not to wrinkle my nose in disgust. Sam just got up from the table and walked away, muttering under his breath about unsanitary people.
“I take it Sam doesn’t like germs?” I whispered to Jace.
“Nope. We can’t even eat from the same bowl of chips and salsa when we go out for Mexican,” she whispered. “And don’t even get me started on buffets.”
Jordan scooped Sam’s cards back into the deck and redealt, minus the thumb licking. Sam eventually caved and brought a bottle of hand sanitizer over with him so he could join the game. He and Jordan bickered back and forth like brothers the entire time.
Sam slugged Jordan in the arm and nearly knocked him out of his chair for trying to steal another handful of popcorn.
Jordan laughed and then rubbed his arm. “Ow! What do you expect me to do? Take Holly’s popcorn? That’s a violation of the border laws.”
“Go make your own,” Sam suggested. “Or wimp out and beg her to share with you. She’s an irrationally nice person. She might consider it.”
I hugged my bowl of popcorn protectively closer.
“Yeah, I don’t think she’s gonna share with me. Besides, yours is closer.”
Jordan made one last halfhearted attempt to steal Sam’s popcorn, and then seemed to decide it would be less painful to make his own.
The pizza arrived a few hours later. Jordan paid the delivery man and opened the top box as he was kicking the door shut. He pulled out a slice of pepperoni and sausage. The molten hot cheese practically oozed off the crust into his mouth.
“Hot,” he exhaled, blowing out steam. He shoved the pizza boxes at Sam and fumbled for the first cold drink he could find. He took a few deep gulps and then said, “Wow, that was hotter than I expected.” He glanced down at Sam, who was giving him a flat look, and then back at the glass in his hand. “Oh, I’m sorry, was this yours? You want it back?”
“No,” Sam gritted out. “You can keep it. I’ll get another one.”
Jace chewed on a fingernail as she observed their interaction. I tried not to smile, but Sam as a germaphobe was just kind of funny and unexpected.
“I’ll get you another Pepsi,” I offered, and I went to fetch him one. I grabbed a fresh glass and a cold can of pop from the refrigerator, but I paused at the threshold of the kitchen.
Jordan and Jace were laughing about something, and Sam was shaking his head with a small smile on his lips. Seeing their joy warmed me, and knowing I was somehow a part of it . . .
I had spent so much of my life living on the fringes of society, hiding from everyone who might be a threat, that I’d forgotten what it felt like to be included, to have a group of friends to just . . . laugh with.
It made me feel like I mattered.
Sam caught me watching them from the kitchen, and I flushed with embarrassment when he stood and walked over.
“You get lost?” he asked.
I smiled and offered the drink to him. “Nope.”
He took it and cocked his head as he studied me. “In all the time I’ve known you, I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this calm. You’re usually jittery.”
I tucked my fingers into the back pockets of my jeans and rocked on my toes. “It helps knowing I have Jace to protect me if anyone creepy shows up.”
His lips quirked in a barely perceptible smile. “Yeah. I heard about the ice rink.”
I knew he had. This entire “party” was designed to help me feel safe after Collin’s visit had ripped open wounds that had barely begun to heal.
“Thank you,” I said. “For helping me feel safe.”
He studied me for a long moment and looked as if he might have something meaningful to say, then shrugged and grunted. “Sure.” He stalked back into the living room, and I followed with a smirk.
Sam was a man of few words.
We spent the rest of the afternoon playing games and watching movies, and as the day progressed, I felt some of the knotted tension in my body begin to ease.
“You ready to head out?” Jordan asked when it was nearly dusk.
“Yep.” I stood and stretched. Jace and I hugged good-bye, and I gave Sam a wave before opening the door to leave. I barely swallowed a scream when I found a man standing just on the other side.
Recognition slowly dawned, and my heart rate slowed. It was my landlord, frozen with his shoulders bunched in surprise and his fist raised to knock.
“Mr. Whittaker?”
“Ms. Cross,” he squeezed out, going a shade paler. “I wasn’t . . . expecting you . . . here.”
I folded my arms and glared at him with suspicion. “You’re not here to make an arrangement with my friend, are you? Because her boyfriend is a cop.”
I hadn’t thought it possible, but he paled even more.
“Holly, I’ll take care of it,” Sam said, brushing past a slightly confused Jordan. “Whittaker,” he said with disdain. He stepped into the hall, forcing my landlord to retreat, and then closed the door.
“Who’s that guy?” Jordan asked, throwing a thumb toward the door.
“The new landlord.” Jace leaned forward on the couch and whispered, “Sam’s been talking to the other tenants, and apparently Mr. Whittaker has been making some indecent propositions with some of the female tenants. Not me, but ones who have like no family and stuff. Sam confronted him, and now the guy’s like all agreeable and stuff. Promising not to cause anymore trouble and whatnot.”
Sam came back in and closed the door behind him, his expression tight.
“What’s going on with this guy and his female tenants?” Jordan demanded, before anyone else could speak.
Sam glanced at me before answering, “There are three young women in this building without family in the area, aside from Holly, and when they couldn’t pay the extra fee Mr. Whittaker threatened to impose for one reason or another, he offered them an alternative to eviction.”
“What kind of alternative?” Jordan asked.
“A sexual arrangement. He also approached Holly.”
“I . . . never said anything about . . . anything like that,” I stammered uneasily.
Jordan’s jaw tightened, and he leaned closer to whisper, “Your lips are twitching.”
I bit down on my lips in frustration.
“I doubt you’re the exception, Holly,” Sam said. “Either Marx interrupted, or you just didn’t tell him that part for fear Mr. Whittaker might mysteriously disappear.”
I glared at him.
“I’ll take that as confirmation.”
Jordan cast me a worried look. “This guy doesn’t have keys to your apartment, does he?”
I shook my head. “Just me.” A fact about which I was immeasurably relieved. No more landlords sneaking in uninvited. “And I don’t think he’s gonna bother me again anyway. Marx listed himself as my next of kin on the information card, and Mr. Whittaker’s afraid of him.”
Sam grunted in amusement. “Not surprising.”
“Why were you talking to Mr. Heebie-Jeebie anyway?” Jace asked, giving a theatrical shudder just to emphasize her point.
“We made an arrangement of our own.”
Curious, I asked, “Does it include a bullet-point list of all the logical reasons he shouldn’t creep on people?”
Sam gave me an unamused look, and I smirked. “No. I agreed not to make his life miserable so long as he doesn’t harass his tenants, and he informs me of any unexpected male visitors or suspicious activity.”
The look he shared with Jordan made my stomach flip over. Unexpected male visitors like Collin?
I tried to keep my voice even and strong, but it came out thin with fear. “He’s here? Collin’s here?” Was that why Mr. Whittaker had stopped by?
“Possibly,” Sam replied. “Whittaker’s supposed to call me if he sees him in the area, but since I was here, he decided to tell me in person.” He turned his attention to Jordan. “I’m gonna do a quick check of the property, and then I’ll escort you and Holly to your car.”
I sank onto the arm of Jace’s couch after Sam left and tried not to let Collin’s potential nearness unravel my nerves. I felt Jace’s arms come around my waist, and she pressed her face against my back.
“It’s gonna be okay, Holly. He can’t get to you here. Not with Sam and Jordan in the way. No guy in his right mind would try that.”
I forced a nod, trying to believe her, but I wasn’t sure the phrase “in his right mind” applied to Collin. When the doorknob turned a few minutes later, I stiffened with apprehension, but it was only Sam.
“We’re clear. Let’s go,” he said.
Jordan gestured for me to go ahead of him, and we walked down the hall single file, with me in the middle. Even though I knew they wouldn’t let Collin touch me, I couldn’t keep my eyes from darting frantically over every visible inch of grass and sidewalk when we stepped outside.
My gaze landed on my apartment, and I felt a pang of longing. I missed my home and the sense of independence that came with living on my own and providing for myself.
Someday I’ll get there again.
As we neared Jordan’s car, I noticed something propped on the hood. It looked like a toy. Jordan slipped around me and walked to the front of his car.
A puzzled line formed between his eyebrows.
He picked up the item and showed it to us. It was a Sheriff Woody doll from Toy Story, and there was a small envelope attached to it.
“It’s addressed to Wyatt,” Jordan said with a grimace.
Sam folded his arms. “He leaves me a Mexican flag, and he leaves you a sheriff doll. The guy lacks creativity.”
Jordan opened the envelope and pulled out a key card with a hotel symbol on it.
My breath caught. “Please tell me that’s not the key card for your hotel room.”
He pursed his lips and flipped the card to show us the room number written in black permanent marker. “That’s my room number. I left the spare key card on the nightstand when I left the room this morning.”
I stared at him. “He was in your hotel room?”
“Maybe. But the keys aren’t labeled with numbers; they’re programmed. So it’s possible he just knows my room number and wrote it on a different card to prove he knows where I’m staying.”
“He’s trying to unnerve you,” Sam said.
“And yet all he’s managed to do is annoy me.”
They both seemed unusually calm considering Collin might have been in Jordan’s hotel room. At the very least, he knew exactly where Jordan was staying.
“What do we do?” I worried, looking between them.
Jordan unlocked the car and opened the passenger door. He tossed the doll and card into the backseat like they were no more important than crumpled burger wrappers, then stood back with his hand on the top of the door. “We take you back to Marx’s place like we planned.”
“But what about—”
“We’ll take care of it,” Sam said, but he offered no further details. “Good night, Holly.”
