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I expected to hear snoring. The sounds of his fan. I thought I’d find a whole sink full of empty beer cans, because that’s where he tossed them. He never took out the garbage until days later, even washing dishes around his beer cans.
Nothing. The apartment was completely silent.
Something was wrong. As if on the same wavelength, Jess touched my shoulder. “Move back. Behind me.” I saw the gun in her hand and gulped.
Oh man.
Glen.
He would piss his pants if he was in there, just sleeping.
She raised her arm up, her other hand steadying her gun, and she called out, “Anyone here? I am armed. I’m here with your cousin. Is anyone here?!”
She kept on, clearing each room as she moved down the hallway.
I didn’t know what to do, so I moved farther into the living room. We hadn’t cleared the closet. There was one right behind where we came in, so I went over to it, opening—a man was there!
I gasped, my throat opened up, but he had a hand up, smothering my scream. His other hand held a gun. Dressed all in black, a ski mask. The whites of his eyes were bulging.
“Hello! Is anyone in here?” Jess was still going through the apartment.
Glen had a two bedroom, but there were closets, an extra bathroom.
She hadn’t heard me.
“Don’t say a word and you’ll live,” he hissed at me.
No.
He did not say that. To me! No, he did not because if he had, then that meant that I was once more in a situation where a gun was being pointed at me.
And that was not happening. Not again!
I felt the scream coming. His smothering hand be damned.
The switch was starting.
I was going to do something I always did.
I was staring at this guy, whoever he was. His hand was over my mouth.
An inferno was lit, and the flames were fast spreading until—“Get this fucking gun away from my head!”
I charged him. Well, no. I first bent my head down and head-butted him. Envision a mountain ram: that was me, and this asshole was going down. A shot went off. I was impervious by now.
The guy went down. His arm went to the side.
He was trying to hit me or kick me, but I was on him, and I grabbed his head, both sides of his head, and I was knocking his head into the floor underneath him. Over and over and over again. Ram. Ram. Ram.
“Ahhhhhh!”
“Oh my god!” Jess came running in.
She was on the right side.
The guy was losing his steam, but so was I, and I clued in, noticing he was trying to turn the gun back toward me. I had my knee on his arm, holding it pinned and aimed the other way. I hadn’t even known I’d done that, but then Jess was there.
She plucked the gun out of his hand and yelled, “Get off him. Molly!”
I stopped heaving his head, but my strength was leaving me and fast, so I scrambled backward. I couldn’t stand up, not yet. I scooted to the kitchen.
“Behind me.”
Oh. I changed position, crawling to sit behind Jess. She had her gun up, and she was talking into her phone like it was a radio. “You!” she barked at the guy. “Get—can you get up?”
The guy shook his head before passing out. His whole body did a shudder and shake before I was guessing he went unconscious.
After that, I curled in, bringing my knees up to my chest, my arms wrapped around them. Jess was calling the police. I heard her say, “We need an ambo and—” She hesitated. “We have a DOA here.”
DOA.
What? Not this guy. I didn’t kill this guy, but that meant—I knew what that meant, and now the adrenaline was wearing off. I was getting immune to that, but my cousin. Jess had been back there.
I had to see him before they came to get him.
I pushed up, choking back a sob.
“No, Molly. Don’t go in there.”
I hauled myself up, pushing past her. She had to stay, keep the gun on the guy in case he woke up, so I slowed right before I got to Glen’s bedroom. I took a breath, one breath, and went to the doorway.
I—huh?
There was a dead body in the bed, his head turned my way. I refused to look at the rest of him.
I glanced at Jess down the hallway. “Where’s Glen?”
“What?”
“My cousin has neon-blue hair. That’s not Glen.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-THREE
ASHTON
We were leaving the downtown warehouse, which at one point had had three guests, but we made the decision to separate the Worthings. Avery would take them to the compound and put them into the warehouse their detective cousin had vacated earlier. Their interrogation would be a much longer process.
“Marco is still at Katya?”
I was checking my phone, then cursing when I saw all the missed calls and texts.
