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“Pick up when I call,m'eudail,” He looks back at me, and goosebumps cover my body as he scans me with narrowed eyes. “My address is on there, too, if you ever want to... renegotiate.” Jack licks his lips, his intent clear as day, and I cross my arms tightly over myself. He turns around, chuckling, and walks out of my house without a word.
CHAPTERTHREE
Heather
A shrill, high-pitched squeal rings in my ears as I stare at the archway through which Jack had just vanished. Fear has a vice-like grip on me, weaving its way up my spine — it's difficult to move or even breathe. Even as his phantom wraps around me, I can't take my gaze away from the spot.
Fucking Hell, I'm in big trouble. I'm screwed. My heart beats erratically in my chest as my mind tries to process what I just experienced.
Pick up when I call... My eyelids squeak shut, and I shiver as goosebumps cover my entire body. Jack Murphy. I look back at my phone, wrapping my arms around myself. My voice is rough, and I wince. As I reach for the cheek where Jack kissed me, a lump forms in my throat.
I croak a weak, uneasy laugh and palm my throat. I inhale a shuddering, shallow breath that stings my nostrils, gulping harshly. When I blink, I see Jack Murphy standing in the living room's entryway. I can feel his eyes judging me, but not in a contemptuous way.
“This is bad,” I sigh deeply. I shuffle forward to grab my phone, but I pause before unlocking it. My hands tremble, and my thumb tingles wildly. I close my eyes, duck my head, and place the phone back on the sofa. “What am I gonna do?”
A hardthunkreverberates up from the floors, and I stiffen, rushing for the stairs.
Liam! Fuck! My muscles tense as I sprint down to the kitchen, and stop short in shock. Liam writhes on the floor, attempting to tip the chair with his feet. His ankles and wrists are bound behind his back with duct tape, his body arching unnaturally in a strange, DIY hogtie.
“Oh, fuck, Liam!” When I shout, his head snaps up, and I walk over to him to peel the tape from around his mouth. His face flushed, he attempts to speak only to cough harshly. “Hold on— hold on, I’ll get some scissors.”
“Heather!” Liam croaks, his voice hoarse with fear. Standing up, I ignore him for the moment to look around. It doesn’t seem like anything was touched; relief slithers through my veins like a thick sludge. Pulling open a drawer, I grab a pair of shears before walking back to Liam. “What the fuck! What the fuck!”
“Shh,” I soothe, grabbing the long strips of tape that bind his hands and ankles together. Cutting the middle, I wince when his legs land flat on the floor, his face pressing against the wood. “Just breathe. That stupid ass— tying you like this! You could’ve suffocated!”
“Did you know them? They asked for you, knocked me out, and tied me up!” Liam wails, and I grab his biceps to help him sit up. He rubs his wrists and glares at me angrily. “Did you know them?”
“No, of course not! But,” I pause, gulping hard as I cut the tape around Liam's ankles. I sit back and let the shears clatter to the floor as his hot breathing stops. I shake my head and look up at him, palming my eye. “They knew me. They knew my dad. I— I don’t know what this was. A warning? But my dad’s dead; been dead for almost two years now... so I don’t know why they’re coming to me now, or for what.”
“Your dad? ” Liam asks sharply, his back against the heavy table leg. My eyes widen as I remember my and Jack's conversation for a few moments. The silence is deafening, and I pull my knee up to prop up my elbow while running my hand through my hair.
“I don’t know. I don’t know anything. There are... reasons, Liam, that I’m leaving my dad in the ground,” I answer quietly, and he grunts. He rubs the left side of his face roughly, a big, red, fist-sized bruise beginning to swell under his skin. I reach to grab his chin, wincing when he does. “I’ll get you some ice.”
“Your dad,” Liam says after I stand up and walk to the freezer. I pause to look back at him over my shoulder. His expression is grave; for all his faults, Liam’s not stupid. He’s lazy, a bad tenant, and gross, but he’s not stupid. “He was a lawyer, right? Maybe, your dad covered something up, and now that he’s dead, whoever he fucked feels like they can come after you.”
“I don’t know, Liam,” I answer, my mouth drying. It’s a lie; I know exactly what this is about. But I can’t tell him. He’d just make things worse. I open the freezer, the gust of frigid air calming my frazzled nerves as I pull out the ice box. “I really... I don’t know.”
“We— we need to call the cops,” Liam says while I grab a few paper towels. My heart stutters, my breath catching in my throat at the notion. “We need to call the cops and report this.”
“Yeah,” My hands are stiff as I pack some ice into a sandwich baggie and wrap it in paper towels. Tears sting my eyes. I can never touch my phone again. No, I can’t. “Where’s your phone?”
“Oh,” Liam exclaims, and I turn as he pulls the device out of his pocket. Scowling, he taps the screen with his finger a few times. “The screen is shattered. Oh, but it still works. I— ow! My finger!”
Liam grumbles as he sticks his finger into his mouth. I hand him the ice pack, and he carefully navigates his shattered phone screen. When it starts ringing, it obviously still works, but the screen is dark, with only a few streaks indicating that it is turned on. “It’s a good thing you’re on that constantly,” I remark as I sit down next to him.
As I heard a voice on the other side of the of the line picking up, Liam starts squawking frantically. “Hello! 911? Yeah, some guys just broke into the house!” I close my eyes, pulling my knees up to support my arms. I take as deep a breath as I can while ignoring his panic stricken voice.If Liam continues to panic, it will make me panic, and I might slip and reveal some of the things that happened earlier. He can’t know.
Which makes me think I need him the fuck out of my house as soon as possible.This might be a good opportunity to do that.Actually, this could be the push he needs to stop acting like the jerk he is. If he thinks those guys will return and that this was a warning with more to come, he'll flee like a little bitch.
But I don’t have that luxury. I can’t run away. If Jack Murphy knows so much about me, this is very planned.
“Heather?” Liam calls, and I open my eyes and look over at him. He’s off the phone now, and he stands up with a grunt before holding his hand out for me. I take it. “You wanna break out the good beer?”
“Beer?” I scoff, shaking my head. “Hell, I’m gonna drink the whole bottle of wine I bought when I graduated college.” Indecision wars in my chest as I look over at him. Should I give him the good stuff? The stuff I have to hide from him? My mouth dries before I speak again. “You can have all the beer as long as you stay in your room, so you’re not puking all over my house. And you can even take the TV in the den upstairs. It’ll connect to your phone.”
“But the living room tv is bigger,” Liam starts but trails off sheepishly when I snarl at him. He raises his free hand, gulping loudly and sniffling through his broken nose. “Okay— okay, den TV and stay in my room.”
“And you better fucking stay there, Liam,” I snap. “I mean it. Or else!”
