“Great. Come on.”
I sat on the counter while she puttered around the kitchen, cooking popcorn on one burner of the stove and hot cocoa on the other.
“Did Ariel enjoy her birthday?” she asked while we waited for them to heat up.
“Yeah, she seemed like she had a good time. I was surprised I didn’t see Auntie Rose there.”
“She’s under the weather,” Gram replied. “And you know how protective that husband of hers is.”
I grinned at the snark in her voice. “Why do you give Uncle Grease such a hard time? They’ve been married forever. You know you’re stuck with him.”
“Don’t you worry about that,” she said with a sniff. “Heknows why.” She nodded in the direction of where I’d left my purse in the entryway. “Text your mother and let her know you’re staying the night.”
“I’m not twelve,” I argued halfheartedly as I jumped off the counter.
“Just common courtesy,” she said, turning back to the stove.
I walked toward the front of the house. “She thinks I’m staying with Bas anyway,” I called over my shoulder. “She wouldn’t even—”
I stumbled to a stop, breath catching in my throat.
Standing just inside the front door was a man I’d never seen before. He lifted a finger to his lips and gestured at me to go back the way I’d come.
“Gram,” I shouted, the word choked as I struggled to pull air into my lungs. I didn’t get another word out, because he raised a pistol and pointed it straight at my chest.
“Go,” he ordered, making the shooing motion again with his other hand. “Not a fucking word.”
I was too afraid to turn my back on him, so instead, I shuffled backward to the kitchen.
“Who are you?” I asked, taking as much time as I could. I hoped Gram would go out the back and call for help, but I knew she wouldn’t.
She hadn’t responded when I called for her.
My heart beat frantically as I stared at his face, trying to ignore the gun that was still pointed at my chest. If I got out of this, I was going to need to remember what he looked like.
Short brown hair. Light eyes—I couldn’t discern the color. Medium build. Only a few inches taller than me. Blue jacket. Blue jeans. No scars that I could see. No tattoos either. Sharp jaw. Clean-shaven. Thin nose with prominent nostrils. Thin lips.
He could’ve been any man on the street. Unremarkable. Easy to forget.
“Who are you?” I asked again.
“The boogeyman,” he said flatly.
“Why are you here?”
I wondered if he was here for Gram. She would’ve been home alone if I hadn’t shown up. Maybe it had something to do withthe club. Things had been quiet for most of my life, but I knew there were times in the past when that hadn’t been the case.
“For you,” he said as I stumbled on the rug running the length of the entryway.
“I don’t know you,” I replied dumbly. I’d never seen him before in my life.
“You pissed some people off,” he said, gesturing at me with the gun.“Move.”
“Who?” I asked, moving a little faster. The longer I could keep him talking, the better off I’d be. The longer we were in this house. The longer he didn’t shoot me. Every moment was one more that there was a chance someone would come. There was a chance Grandpa could be there any minute.
“Bitch,go,” he said, cocking the pistol in his hand.
I nodded frantically and stepped into the light of the kitchen.
