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But on other days I’m grateful I don’t remember. It’s time to turn over a brand-new leaf. Start anew. Release my ties with the past and look to the future.
With Raine.
The bell rings again, and I sigh, stalking out of the bedroom to get the door. “Forgot your key?” I call out, grinning, as I reach the hallway. “Just a sec!”
I peek quickly through the peephole, just in case, and do a double-take. The guy’s old, with pepper and salt hair and beard, but there’s something familiar about his eyes.
I step back from the door, my skin crawling.
“Open up this door!” the man calls from behind. “Or I’ll open it myself.”
The fuck. I retreat toward the bedroom, then change my mind and get into the kitchen. Knives. I need a knife. The idea of calling Raine crosses my mind, but I’m already in the kitchen, and the apartment door rattles like it’s about to come off its hinges.
Holy fuck. I ope
n a drawer, then another, looking for a blade. I grab a promising-looking knife—and a crash from the living room fucks up my coordination and I drop it.
“Come out, come out, wherever you are!” the man calls. “Come out, Jason.”
Ah shit. What the hell?
As the guy appears at the kitchen door, I step back and hit the counter. Nowhere to go.
“Who the fuck are you?” I whisper. “What do you want? Did Simon send you?”
He’s dressed in a cheap black raincoat, jeans and ratty loafers. His eyes keep shifting, and the tremor in his hands tell me he’s either scared or high.
“He sure did. He’ll pay me good money for you, too, money my sons were too stingy to hand over, even when I promised them I’d hurt those close to them. Selfish, don’t you think?”
I can’t speak, rooted to the spot. Damn, I must’ve fucked up badly in a past life.
“Yeah.” He turns to look at the door. “Look how stingy my son is. He should have invested in a lock you can’t pick with a credit card. Then again… if I’d known he was a faggot back when, I’d have killed him myself.”
Holy shit, he’s nuts. Quickly I bend my knees, reaching for the knife lying on the floor, even as his words seep in and I realize who he is.
Raine’s dad.
“And it’s your fault,” he says, turning back toward me as I grab the knife. He hisses when he sees it and lifts something, pointing it at me. It’s a small gun, black and gleaming. “Put that knife down, cocksucker. Think you can kill me?”
“Don’t,” I whisper, and the knife falls from my nerveless fingers, skittering across the floor “Please. I won’t do anything. Put the gun down.”
Instead he flips the safety off, the click too loud, and slides his finger over the trigger. “You think you can stop me? You and my sons, you never thought I could cut it, did you? Think I’m a loser, always in debt, always lagging behind.” He waves the gun at me, a self-satisfied grin on his face, and I flinch. Christ, that thing could go off at any moment, and I don’t like the crazy glint in his eyes. “You all thought I’m not a real man, that I wouldn’t follow through with what I said.”
I’ve seen gunfights on the street. I doubt anyone survived.
“Please,” I whisper again, my voice choked. “Please put the gun down.”
But instead he lifts the gun and points it at me. “Let me see you crawl,” he says, his finger tightening on the trigger.
Oh fuck. I drop to my knees, slam a hand against the leg of the metal table to steady myself, and it fucking gives away, sending the table right on top of me.
The last thing I hear is the bang of the gun going off.
Chapter Thirty-Seven
Raine
“Where the hell is he?” I demand.
