55

Selena

I was still pacing the office I’d been using, ready to bite the head off a bat. The sickness remained, enough that I’d grabbed a glass of the Irish whiskey Joshua had brought back from Louisville, hoping it would calm my nerves.

I’d gotten voicemail, which had driven me to another state of anger, the call yet to be returned. It had been risky to do, maybe stupid, but I couldn’t tolerate being behind the eight ball any longer.

I moved to a standing position, pushing the drink away. The alcohol wasn’t doing me any good, the taste bitter in my mind, no matter the vintage. As I started to pace the floor, I suspected that Joshua’s world had coincidentally collided with mine, and that whatever was going on had little to do with me. But at this point, I could be certain of nothing. Not a damn thing, including who was trying to kill us. I grabbed my phone, shoving it into the back pocket of my jeans.

God, I hated this.

The waiting.

The anticipation.

The anxiety.

It felt like a hammer was going to fall at any minute, as if the house was going to be attacked. I was antsy, my skin prickling, a heaviness in my heart. I wanted to scream, breaking down into tears. Something. Instead, I was overanalyzing everything that I’d learned, realizing there were far too many missing pieces to be able to make either assumptions or qualified guesses. I’d be an idiot to try to do so, driving myself to the point of madness.

A cold chill scoured my system, forcing me to fold my arms. I’d seen the little cookie monster several times throughout the last few hours, although only briefly, Margaret keeping me away from him as if I was a bad seed. Her behavior annoyed the hell out of me, although I wasn’t certain what I could do about it.

It was obvious I was irritated by everything that was going on, including the fact Joshua had been gone for so long. I hadn’t eaten, hadn’t moved away from the room. I growled softly to myself and headed for the window, peEricag out into the late afternoon sun. Everything about Joshua’s backyard was serene and extremely inviting. I wanted nothing more than to head to the riverbanks, enjoying a picnic. The thought allowed a smile. Maybe a little fresh air would help.

I doubted cracking open the door would be considered disobeying. Right? A naughty mindset filtered in and I dared open the door. The breath of fresh air was amazing, tingling my senses. There was a light afternoon breeze that was warmer than I expected, the scent of various flowers catching me off guard.

Hmmm… What if I just stepped right outside onto the deck? One foot. Okay, both feet. But I’d lean against the door. Just to get a little sunlight on my face. I glanced over my shoulder and grinned like some kid getting ready to do something very naughty. Against the rules handed down like I was a bad girl, I did the unthinkable.

I stepped outside, basking in the fresh air and sunlight, marveling in being able to take several deep breaths. A sound caught my attention. Was it laughter? I scanned the perimeter, squinting from the light. When I was certain I heard it again, I shielded my eyes with my hand, squinting again to try to make out anything. The tire swing was moving, more so than it should be in such a light breeze. A creepy feeling tickled my nerves, whispEricag we were in danger. I needed to get a grip.

A third giggle was all I needed. There was no doubt in my mind it was Christopher’s little voice. But it sounded like it was coming from an open window. I glanced up at the second story. Christopher’s window was open. While I shouldn’t be bothered because it sounded as if he was happy with whatever activity he was engaged in, something yanked on my instincts.

After scanning the perimeter, hoping to find one of the soldiers, I chastised myself for being silly. However, I would check in on the little cookie monster. Maybe I needed to hear his giggle up close and personal, ensuring he was safe. As I headed up the stairs, I could hear what sounded like music, the kind that kids of his age would enjoy listening to. Or maybe it was a movie. The closer I got to his door, the more apprehension settled deep inside.

I couldn’t toss aside the feeling that something was horribly wrong. His door was partially open, enough that as I walkedcloser, I could see part of his room but not enough to see anything other than a portion of his bed and a bookshelf.

My heart was racing by the time I was standing in front of the door. For some reason, I felt more comfortable holding my breath, pressing the tip of my index finger against the door, pushing it open very slowly.

While I’d been right about the fact what I’d heard was a movie, I could tell by Christopher’s face that I’d been totally wrong about the giggle. It hadn’t belonged to him. He sat frozen on his bed, his face ashen. When I noticed me, he opened his eyes wide. But instead of being a terrified kid, he slanted his eyes to the right.

Then he signed to me very carefully, but it was clear.

His word?

Intruder.

Swallowing hard, I nodded, terrified of what was going on, uncertain of what I should do. However, I refused to allow that little boy to suffer for one minute longer. The fact whoever had made it into the house had done so with ease meant something had obviously happened to the men standing guard. There was no time to grab a knife from the kitchen. What else could I use?

I pressed my finger across my lips, shaking my head. Then I signed back to him, telling him to be ready to run. God love the kid, as strong as his father. Other children his age would be crying or too terrified to respond, but not this adorable little boy.

He blinked once to tell me he understood. I backed away without making a single sound, carefully tugging my phone from my back pocket. A phone call was too risky. A text would have to do. I typed it quickly, hitting send then returning it to my pocket.Easing into Joshua’s bedroom, I remained as silent as possible, opening drawers in hopes of finding a hidden gun or another weapon. How in the hell had the person gotten inside without tripping the alarm?

That was an easy answer. Margaret. Who the hell was she really? Hissing, I was furious with myself for not following my instincts. I’d known something was off about her.

Finding no weapon, I started shaking all over, partially from fear but mostly from the rush of adrenaline. Almost desperate, I noticed a small marble statue that obviously meant something to Joshua.

Well, at that moment it had become the most important thing in my world as well. Grabbing it, I almost jumped for glee feeling the weight. I’d need to be very careful but at least I had something I could use.

After returning to the hallway, I purposely moved forward with heavier footsteps. I knocked on his door, immediately starting to push it open.

“Hey, Christopher,” I called, holding back before taking a single step inside the room. “How about some ice cream?”

He nodded enthusiastically, immediately rising to his feet. There wasn’t a single sound made, not a peep from whoever was inside the room, but I sensed Christopher’s fear and his worry.

I pushed open the door a little more, easing the statue behind my back. The moment I crossed the threshold, I sensed the person standing behind the door. I had a split second to calculate what the hell I was going to do. Without hesitation, I lunged forward, shielding his little body, shouting at the same time.

“Run!”

The kid was fast, racing toward the door, bolting out of his room as I turned around, lifting the statue in both hands. As I brought it down, I issued a primal scream, making contact, the brutal cracking sound reverberating in my ears. A split second later, I was pitched backward, struck on the side of the head with something cold and metal. As the statue started to fall from my hands, I refused to give up, scrambling forward on my hands and knees, snagging the person by the leg and yanking, trying desperately to reach the statue.

As soon as the son of a bitch fell, I threw a hard punch, wincing in pain as my fist connected with the man’s jaw. He was wearing a mask, jeans, and a hoodie, preventing me from getting a good look at his face.

“Ah!” When the bastard backhanded me, I let out another sharp scream, doing everything I could to take a deep breath as pain exploded in my head. I kicked out, my heel catching him in the face, pummeling him backward. I scrambled to my feet again, lunging for the statue. Within seconds, the bastard was on me, knocking me to the floor, the wind knocked out of me.

Gasping, before I had a chance to react any further, he was on me, pressing his arm against my windpipe. Lights flashed in front of my eyes, my yelps muffled as the bastard tried to suffocate me. I did what I could, punching him in the face, struggling with everything I had inside of me.

It was no use, the asshole stronger than me. Tears formed in my eyes and my thoughts drifted to the happy moments during the insanity I’d shared with Joshua, especially meeting Christopher for the first time. I started punching the guy in the face over andover again, refusing to go down without a fight. But he wasn’t budging, his hold around my neck with two hands firm.

More punches. More gasping for breath. As the lights turned to dark specks, I sensed I was ready to pass out. I lifted my arm one last time, grabbing the mask the bastard wore. I at least wanted to see the person who was responsible for my death.

I almost laughed, my hand slowly falling from her face, the woman’s long red hair cascading down to mine. Oh, God. I was dying. I could feel the air leaving my body.

Whoosh!