I glanced at thecrackedcircular mirror at the bottom of thestairwell. Sebastianwas still standing at the top of the stairs, a small smile playing across his lips while his eyes stayed glued on me.
Chapter 12
Circling around the abandoned house, I attempted to find one spot that’s flooring wasn’t completely warped and didn’t have trash or piss occupying the space. I’d almost felt bad when I kicked out the previous squatter. But more than anything I was just relieved that he was too out of it to realize where he was, let alone fight me.
It probably would have been prudent to do this during the day. Then I wouldn’t beforcedto use my phone’s flashlight to find the one square foot in this shit hole I could actually sleep in. But I’d been busy since I’d left Sebastian behind in Manhattan. I’d been trying to pickpocket money from people, but I had limited success when everyone was dashing down the block to get out of the summer rain shower.
My phone’s flashlight reflected over yellow liquid seeping into the wooden floor. It was stupid to be wasting my phone batteryonthis. There was obviously no electricity hooked up in this abandonedrowhouse, so there’d be no way to recharge my phone. But I refused to fall asleep andwokeup with someone else’s vomit in my hair.
When I’d failed to make more than a few bucks this afternoon, I should’ve cut my losses and started scouting for houses. It’s not like the neighborswould havecared if I’d forced my way in during the day. This wasn’t exactly the type of neighborhood to call the cops.
Near what remained of the kitchen, I finally found a spot that I could potentially fall asleep in. Aiming my phone at what used to be a wooden cabinet, looters had predictably stolen everything from the wood door to the metal hinges, I squinted and prayed there were no rats.My nosewrinkledup as I pushed in for a closer look inside the cabinet. Therewas a rustedlineunderneaththe pipe where the copper had been stolen, but therewereno visiblemousedroppingsor the telltale sound of scratching feet scrambling around. I turned the light up toward the windowless wall, hoping I didn’t see any cockroaches crawling around.
When I was satisfied by the lack of vermin, I turned off the light and dropped my phone in my duffel. Hesitantly, I laid down on the one clean spot and placed my ever present duffel bag underneath my head. I stared upat the shadowedpopcorn ceiling. How had I gone from a 7 bedroom brownstone to this?
A knock echoed from the door, and I forced my body to stay completely still. Hopefully, the squatter wasn’t back, amped up and angry. I didn’t know if I could emotionally deal with a naked addict with the temporary strength of a grizzly bear.
The next bang was louder, and there was a familiar voice to accompany it, “Selene, we know you’rein there.”
Shit. Ray was here to collect his money, and from the sound of it he wasn’t alone.
Soundlessly, I crawled across the room avoiding the spots with vomit and other bodily fluidsIdidn’t want to think about. The front and back windows were boarded up, so they couldn’t see in. That plywood wouldn’t do much if they started shooting though. Although, there wasn’t a reason for them to shoot. Over the last few days, Ihadcollected adecentamount of money. Keeping a hand on the gun tucked into my waistband, I peeked through the door hole.
Ray and four men were bundled underneath umbrellas, which failed at shielding them from the torrential rain. Ray’s menwere all brandishing guns as they stared down at the door.
My stomach knotted when Iexamined the steroid-enriched menwaiting in the dim halo of light. This wasn’t a simple collection call.
“Don’t make this worse, Selene. Open the door,” Ray called over the pouring of the rain.
A hoodie shrouded his eyes, but I could see his lips were tugged down into a frown. Adrenaline pumped through my body. They weren’t just here to collect money: they were here to send a message.
Metal grinding against metal shattered my thoughts. They were attempting to pick the lock. Thankfully, the former squatter hadn’t taken the deadbolt. It would buy me a few minutes while I figured out what the hell to do.
I should’ve picked a more prominent neighborhood to squat in since I’d rather take a chance of arrest than a definite beat down from Ray’s goons. I stared around the pitch black room, assessing my options for escape.
There were only two entrances to the house: front and back door. The lack of windows on the sides of therowhouse were two fewer points of entry for attackers, but also two fewer points of exit forme. My onlyoption was the back door. They likely had at least one person out back. I’d need to surprise him, and silently knock him out before he could say a word.
Then I could dash along the grasslessbackyard, and jump over the rusted chain link fence into the neighbor’s backyard. This was an area where the locals werecarrying guns, and they definitely wouldn’thesitate to use them. I’dneed to be quiet, so I didn’t draw the neighbor’sand Ray’s attention.
It wasn’t an ideal plan, but it was the best option I had going for me at the moment. I ran a hand over my newly healed rib; I did not want to deal with that pain again.
I kept my gun in my hand as I approached the back of the house. My body relaxed as I ran my finger over the grip of the gun. Some people had security blankets, I had security guns.
Before I reached the door, I swung my duffel bag over my shoulder. It’d slow me down if I needed to run, but there was no way in hell I was leaving the money behind.
Using my free hand, I yanked open the back door. Four pairs of eyes stared back at me, and all four raised their handguns in my direction.
Shit.
I slammed the door shut beforethey couldaim at my head. I slammed the lock in place and jumped away from the thin door.Raybrought eight men to deal with me? That was overkill even for him.
I stepped back into the living room. God, I was so screwed. Even if I wanted to fight my way through them, there was no way I could take down eight armed men. They began kicking at the door, and the thin plywood creaked against their attacks.
I tried to make mental calculations, grasping for the calm sense of detachment I felt when I would run missions for my father.
Click. The front door unlocked and slammed against the weight of the deadbolt.
My window to come up with a plan was shrinking. I glanced up at the ceiling as the forced detachment slippedintofear. I hadn’t been able to find a blueprint of the house on theDepartment ofBuilding’s website. However, there was the possibility I’d find ducts in the ceiling if I attempted to crawlthrough.
