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I run to my bag and grab Fred. After what happened in my life, it took me some time to become friends with Fred. I’m glad I did, though.
I rush back to the monitor. The guy is still sitting there, hands folded in his lap with anger cracked on his mangled face.
I sit in silence, checking the entrance for Cole or any women coming early to the meeting.
Shit! I glance at my cell. It’s been twelve minutes since I talked to Aunt Willa. I need to get the guy out of here. I can’t put anyone else in danger.
Okay. I’ve got this. I’ll just go out there with Fred and have a talk with my unwanted guest.
I walk to the door, keeping my eyes on the monitor to ensure the man doesn’t move from the chair. When I open the door, I don’t need any surprises.
I unlock the deadbolt, whip the door open, and shift Fred behind my back.
His cold hard eyes land on me.
“What do you want?”
He stands. “I’m looking for Amanda,” he replies, voice thick with anger.
“I don’t know any Amanda. You need to leave.”
He shoves his hand into his hoodie pocket. “I don’t want any trouble. I just want my girlfriend.”
“I don’t know her.”
“I think you do.” His face hardens, further enhancing his malice.
He pulls his hand out of his pocket, revealing a knife. The blade glints against the sunlight shining through the window as he holds it up in the air. “I know she called you last night.”
Well, I'm game if he wants to play show-and-tell.
I swing my arm around and grip Fred with both hands. I keep the barrel aimed at him. “I’m sorry, but I can’t help you.” I struggle to hold the gun steady. “Now leave.”
He glares up at me, debate lurking in his dark, ominous eyes.
“Mister, it seems as though you brought a knife to a gunfight.” Okay, it’s not original and out of some gangster movie, but it gets my point across. “So if you don’t turn your ass around and walk out that door, I will shoot you.” I take a step toward him, firming my grip on Fred. “I know how to use this thing, and if it comes down to you or me, I can assure you, I’ll win this fight.”
He glares at me for a few seconds, just long enough for me to question my decision to open the door. He shakes his head and crams the knife into his pocket.
Thank God!
“This isn’t over, bitch,” he says, baring his teeth. “I’ll be back.”
“Go on.” I motion to the door with the gun. “Get out.”
He gives me one last hard look before walking out the door.
Oh. My. God! Did that just happen?
I exhale and drop my trembling shoulders. I should run over and lock the door, but my feet are frozen to the floor. If I move, the trembling inside might break loose and knock me over.
I exhale again.
The trembling escapes, making its way to my hands. “Shit.” I press the back of my shaky hand to my forehead.
The door swings open.
I lift both hands and grip Fred.
