of her sister's. It seemed, in fact, just about everyone in town was a friend of her sister's. That was a real nice change as far as Chloe was concerned.
The hermit-like life Carrie had lived before coming to Lusty appeared to be a thing of the past.
Chloe brought herself back to the present. She had a feeling she'd need to keep all her wits about her while she dealt with these two men.
Keeping the frown on her face and her arms folded in front of her chest, Chloe blocked the entrance to her temporary apartment, drew herself up to her full five-foot-three-inch height, and said, "I can assure you, gentlemen, there is no need whatsoever for anyone to babysit me. I'm perfectly fine. It's Carrie y'all should be concerned with. Now, if you'll excuse me, I'll bid you good-night."
Andrew and Grant Jessop traded looks. Chloe saw the hint of amusement on both of their faces, and that just pissed her off.
She was not going to budge from her spot blocking the door, no matter what "logical" argument they gave her, and that was that.
Andrew Jessop sighed, and solved what he must have decided was a problem, by reaching out, picking Chloe up as if she weighed nothing at all, and carrying her into her apartment.
Chloe gasped, too shocked at first to do anything at all. She looked over Andrew's shoulder, wondering where Grant had disappeared to.
Andrew didn't seem inclined to put her down anytime soon, either. He held her with his two beefy hands clamped onto her arms so that she couldn't even unfold them. Her fear of heights kicked in so that she felt leery of fighting him physically, anyway, just in case he dropped her.
It didn't matter if a couple of feet off the ground wasn't really very much height at all. Logic played no role whatsoever in this particular phobia of hers.
Finally she found her voice and said, "Put me down, please."
"Just as soon as Grant hauls in our stuff and locks the door. That makes this a done deal."
"You're bossy."
"Uh-huh. And you're devious."
"Me? Devious? How can you say such a thing when you barely know me? Devious? I have absolutely no idea what you're talking about."
Grant entered the apartment, two duffel bags in hand. He set them down in the small foyer and then closed and locked the door.
Andrew set her down gently. Then he copied her pose, arms folded in front of his chest. "You don't know what I mean when I say you're devious? How come you didn't bring up the very real concern that, in all likelihood, when that SOB comes to town, the first place he's going to come to is right here, to this very apartment?"
Chloe didn't know if she had any acting skills or not. She didn't want to risk saying anything, in case she gave herself away. So she kept her mouth shut and continued to frown at the men.
It slowly occurred to her that her silence could be taken as an admission of guilt.
Grant came over to stand beside his brother. Arms akimbo, he said, "So what did you plan to do? Shoot him?"
"She probably planned to shoot his dick off," Andrew said to Grant.
Well, hell. How could she feign ignorance in the face of their certain-sounding assertions? She unfolded her arms and sighed. "How did y'all know that?"
"Sombitch had messed with our sister, that's what we'd do." Andrew nodded once, and Chloe had no doubt at all he meant what he said.
"That's not precisely true, bro." Grant's expression didn't change. He looked for all the world as if he was discussing something as mundane as the weather. "You know if anyone did to Rebecca what Lockwood had done to Carrie, we wouldn't shoot his dick off. We'd slice it off with a dull yet jagged, rusty knife and then stuff his useless cock down his throat - or up his ass, depending."
"I stand corrected," Andrew said.
That sounded as if they were on her side. "So you understand how I feel. Does that mean you'll help me?"
"Hell, no. You see, Chloe, the trouble is," Andrew said, "there's likely more danger that he'd get the gun out of your hands and shoot you. We for sure are not going to be a party to that."
"I took lessons, I'll have you know. I'm not stupid. I know how to handle my Beretta."
"Oh, good." Grant looked a little disgusted. "How many men have you shot? You don't have to tell me