From down there, he peers up at me like a whipped puppy. Isla stares at me, and she’s probably wondering what in the fucking hell and why would this man ask me not to kill him. I have zero intention of explaining right now.
“Well,” she says. “I’ll be leaving now.”
Not likely.
Mr. Homer stands, and I slide away from the door to open it. “Get out of my house, and if you collect a single dollar from her, you’ll hear from me.”
“No, no, I swear I won’t.”
“You’re still working for me. Understand?”
“Oh yes, Ludi, thank you.”
I hand him my car keys. “Park it in the garage.”
Mr. Homer runs down the steps, and I close the door to find Isla dragging the suitcase downstairs. She manages, which is no small feat, because that thing is packed with a month’s worth of shit and weighs over seventy pounds. She leaves it by the stairs, then starts packing her textbooks, which weigh even more, into a red backpack.
Looking around, she searches the place as one would search a hotel room right before one leaves. In the drawers, under the table, in the kitchen… All the while, I stand there, contemplating this situation.
“I didn’t see a car when I drove in,” I say.
“I don’t drive.”
She must’ve taken a cab, or someone dropped her off. “Did your daddy drop you off?”
“Yes.”
Of course he did. And I bet a million dollars Daddy dropped her off away from town because he knew what was about to go down there. What a fucking coincidence he’d rent out my place. There’s no way he would have known this is my safe house, but I don’t believe in coincidences.
Is it possible Daddy delivered me his daughter as a bribe of some sort? A plea for his life in case Nikola didn’t like something? Was he looking for long-term ties to the family? Because nothing spoke family more than marriage and blood.
“Are you missing something?” I ask.
“My phone.”
“I haven’t seen it.” It’s in my pocket. “Maybe you forgot it.”
She taps her chin. “I’m pretty sure I brought it.” She shrugs. “My head was in the books, so I could be wrong.” She sits by the couch and picks up the landline. I walk over and put my hand over hers, then pause. Isla looks up, eyes wide.
“You can use my cell.” From my pocket, I get my phone and unlock it, then give it to her.
A little rattled, she thanks me and calls someone. The phone is loud, and I hear a man’s voice answer.
“Hey, Daddy,” she says, and I sit next to her, trying to hear both ends of the conversation. It’s broken up on his end, but as her face falls and she hangs up, staring into space, I grab my phone and see the call has ended.
“He wants you to stay?” I ask.
“He says he’ll double the rent for your trouble if you let me stay, because he can’t come to get me now and Mom’s at Grandma’s out of state. Um, I can call one of my cousins. I’m very sorry about this. Had I known Mr. Homer lied, I wouldn’t have, you know, invaded your house.” She turns bright red. “I can’t drive because I can’t see well enough for driving.” She taps her glasses. “And I depend on other people. It sucks. Though if you wouldn’t mind driving me, I’d pay for your gas. It’s only a two-hour drive.” She smiles.
I used to think there’s no such thing as innocence and nobody was innocent, but I really think Isla will prove me wrong. She’s fucking worried about inconveniencing me while her Daddy put her in my way to tell me…what? He knows about my safe house?
This motherfucker’s playing a dangerous game, and I don’t like that he’s playing with a girl with no fucking clue I’m a circling predator. Of course, he could be completely obliviousabout who she’s staying with and adamant about keeping her away from town.
“I have a better idea,” I say. “I’m gonna make you breakfast, and we’ll go from there.”
4
In the kitchen, I open the fridge and get a box of six eggs Mr. Homer left for her. What a fucking asshole. If she were to get snowed in here, she’d starve. Her daddy is also an asshole, the kind I’d pop for free. Images of those consecutive events, first Homer, then her daddy, make me smile, and I grab orange juice, ketchup, and some cheese that I sniff before I consider serving it.
