Back pressed to the door, fear dumps into my veins. What am I going to do?
I need to call the police. I need to call Griffin. Those are the only two things that come to mind. Only then do I belatedly consider grabbing a knife.
I hear a muffled voice in the hallway and press my ear to the door, listening. “We didn’t mean to scare her, boss. We were coming up the stairs, and there she was.” The voice goes silent, and I assume he’s listening to someone else talk that I can’t hear. Another glance through peephole tells me the taller of the two guys is on the phone. “Yeah, will do.”
A loud knock on my door sends me scurrying back like their break-in is imminent. “Miss Lee, we’re here to apologize. Mr. Conniver would like to have a word with you.”
I let out a nearly silent laugh, wondering if that actually works on people. Yeah, sure, aMob bosswants a word? Pretty sure that word ismurder.
“Miss Lee?” He knocks again.
I look around as if a solution will appear out of thin air, and when it doesn’t, and unsure what else to do, I fake a bad accent and say through the door, “No Miss Lee here. Wrong apartment.”
“Your food is sitting here with your name on it. And we know who you are,” he answers dryly. Silently, I mouth,Shit. “We’re here to apologize for scaring you. We just wanted the ring, and we understand you don’t have it anymore. We’re sorry.”
If you look upinsincerein the dictionary, you’ll find an audio clip of that apology. But I’m not looking for us to braid each other’s hair and do a few trust falls like besties. I want them to go away. And I want my eggs Benedict, which is probably going all soggy in the box because of them.
“Okay, apology accepted. Bye now!”
“Mr. Conniver still wants to speak with you.”
“No thanks.”
On the other side of the door, I hear his voice again, but he doesn’t seem to be talking to me. I risk looking through the peephole again and see that he’s back on his phone. “I saidsorryand told her you want to speak to her. She saidno, thanks.” He shakes his head at the other guy, who shrugs. “Do you want us to take her by force?”
“I can hear you!” I shout through the door. I’d still prefer an inch of steel core for a door, but my current door does have this as an advantage.
“Shit, she heard that,” he says to whom I’m assuming is Miles Conniver on the line. “Okay, okay. I’ll tell her.” He hangs up and says through the door, “He says to answer your phone.”
I have two seconds of confusion because my phone is completely silent on my desk before it rings, scaring the shit out of me.
Let’s get one thing straight, I’m not answering that phone, because that’s creepy as hell on a good day. On the day after some scary guys tryto get your home address from a public servant, show up to your job, and then show up at said address? Hell no, I’m not answering. Nope, not talking to a Mob boss. So I go over and decline the call.
It rings again instantly.
Guess Miles Conniver isn’t used to being ignored. Well, we’re all learning new things, I suppose. I send it to voicemail again, then pick it up and bring it closer to the door, where I can keep an eye on Dumb and Dumber in the hall.
And still, it rings again.
“Lady, you’d better answer it.”
“Or what?” I ask, watching them through the peephole. The two guys look at each other in confusion. They’re probably not used to people refusing their boss either.
“Pretty sure you’ll lose the biggest customer your little jewelry business has ever had,” he quips, laughing like this whole thing is some joke and not the most terrorizing experience of my life.
Instead of ringing again, a text message comes through.
Please answer your phone. I’d like to discuss my ring. —M.C.
That’s totally step three of my solidly thought-out plan, but I was going to leave it for last, procrastinating while I figure out what the hell I’m going to say. But apparently, I’m doing the hard things first.
I glance at my little framed cat art with the “Faith Over Fear” motto. I have no faith this is going to go well. And I’m full of fear that I’m going to disappear and end up on milk cartons all across the country.
Still, when my phone rings again, I answer. “Hello?” In breaking news that solidly demonstrates what a completely brave, total badass I am, my voice only cracks a little.
“Miss Lee?”
“Yes?”
