Page 22 of A Million To Fall

Cassie gives me a thumbs-up. “Very much ideal.”

I reach past her to unlock the door, nudging her gently inside. I almost plow straight into her when she stops short.

Immediately I know why she froze.

Eddie’s leaning against the hallway doorframe. Four guys—the same four horsemen of the apocalypse from Friday night—are stationed throughout the living room. One on the couch, one by the kitchen, one just inside the door, one near Eddie.

I look around for my mom and spot her in the kitchen. Her eyes are swollen and red, her cheek flushed like someone slapped her—hard.

I grab Cassie’s shoulder, drawing her back to me.

The guy closest to me swings the door shut behind me, locking it in place while Eddie pushes off the wall, grinning like he owns the place.

“Susie, put your kids to bed,” he says, eyes pinned to me.

I hate how my mom obeys him. She hurries over, lifts Bronx from my arms, then steers Cassie out of the living room. My eyes follow them as they disappear down the hallway.

I’m almost dizzy with the sudden spike in adrenaline.

Every cell in my body knows that whatever’s about to happen, it’s going to be bad.

Eddie steps forward, hand outstretched. “Your phone, Boston.”

I don’t move.

“I want your fucking phone,” he repeats, his voice militant.

“Why?” I ask, trying like hell to keep my voice steady.

He doesn’t answer. Just flicks his chin. Instantly, two of his roided-out henchmen grab my arms, pinning me between them. Same move as last time. I try to wrench free, but it’s pointless. They only hold on tighter.

Eddie steps in close, a sneer on his lips. He’s so much shorter than me that he has to tilt his head up to look into my eyes, but it doesn’t ease the panic lacing up my spine.

I feel Eddie’s breath on me as he invades my space, his face only a few inches from mine. I turn my head away from him, eager to break eye contact. He reaches into my back pocket and pulls out my phone.

“I’m gonna make this real simple,” he says, walking to the kitchen. “You’re a giant pain in my ass, Boston.”

He retrieves a cutting board from the cupboard and places it on the counter. “And I only tolerate that shit for so long before it gets handled. Do you understand me boy?”

He glances at me with arctic eyes. “I thought you’d learned your lesson after last week, but you obviously didn’t get the damn hint,” he tsks. “It’s a good thing I have a soft spot for your slut of a mother. Otherwise, you’d already be dead.”

He opens drawers. Searching.

My lungs feel tight, my breath coming too fast, too shallow.

“Your mommy begged me not to hurt you again, sweet Boston. My boys would’ve made quick work of things, but, well, we all know the power of good pussy.” Eddie shrugs. “Or maybe I’m feeling charitable today.”

Delight flashes across his face when he finds what he’s looking for.

He lifts it slowly.

A metal meat tenderizer.

He flicks his chin and I’m dragged into the kitchen. My pulse kicks into overdrive. I dig in my heels, trying to twist out of their hold, but it’s futile.

“You’re going to leave,” Eddie says, turning the meat tenderizer in his hand, studying it like it’s the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. “Tonight.”

My heart hammers so hard against my ribs, I wouldn’t be surprised if it burst through my chest wall Alien-style.