Fractured Things - Samantha Lovelock Page 0,14
in a few days. Once we get those, it will determine where we go from there.”
“Where we go from there has already been determined, Mr. Halliday.” My voice is strong and laced with venom and steel. “If what he insinuated turns out to be true, I will do everything in my power to destroy that fucking family.”
Chapter Five
After breakfast, Mr. Halliday drives us back to the run-down four-story walk-up I’ve called home for the past two years so Sunday and I can grab our things. Somehow, I manage to convince both the Hallidays and Payne to wait in their rental SUV rather than coming up with us. We sprint up the two flights of stairs to my floor, stopping just short of tripping over the drunk passed out in the hallway, and all I can think about is getting out of here before anybody else witnesses this squalor.
The two of us run around the small studio apartment like crazy people—Sunday packing what we brought with us while I pack up the few personal items that mean something to me.
When I left for Folkestone the first time, I had no idea what to expect or how long I’d be gone, so I only packed things I thought I might need, assuming I’d, of course, be coming back to my life here at some point. This time, I’m throwing everything of any importance into my bags. My heart hurts a little at the realization that the minutiae of my life—the photos, letters, stuffed animals, and trinkets—all fit comfortably into my average-sized backpack.
The lonely life of a girl without a family, without a real home. A girl who has only a vague idea of what it feels like to be a part of something and be loved.
Hooting and catcalls from the street below drag me back to the present, and I give my head a quick shake to clear away the cobwebs of self-pity. Wrestling with the only window in the apartment that opens, I manage to get it wide enough to poke my head and shoulders out. Looking down, I see the guys leaning against the side of the rented piano-black Cadillac Escalade while scanning the face of the building and trying to figure out which unit is mine.
“What are you two idiots yelling about?” My words float down to them on a laugh. Payne sees me first and points up toward me, bumping his shoulder into Poe’s.
“Who’re you calling idiots, Bradleigh? Be nice or I’ll have to spank you later.” Even with the hand shading his eyes from the morning sun, I can almost see his sideways grin in the shadow of his palm from two floors up.
“Promises, promises, Halliday,” I fire back, the warmth of his grin flooding through me. Shoving me to the side so she can awkwardly jam her head through the opening along with mine, Sunday makes gagging noises and laughs.
“Enough with the flirting, you two.” Before she can say anything else, I hear a heavy pounding at my front door. Looking at each other with matching confused expressions, Sunday asks quietly, “Expecting somebody?” My shoulder lifts in a half shrug, and I pull my head in, straightening my shirt.
Something happens as I walk across the living room, and my feet move more and more slowly as my gut starts to churn for no good reason. Reaching the door, I peer through the peephole, and the mysteriously appearing anxiety morphs into annoyance. On the other side of the door, my landlord is picking his stained teeth with a matchbook.
Pausing with one hand on the deadbolt and the other on the doorknob, I listen to my friend’s laughter as she continues to talk to the guys on the street below. Muttering a few choice words to myself and taking a deep breath, my features shift into a neutral expression, and I flick the lock and pull the door open in one smooth motion.
“Todd, what do you wan—” Too late, I realize my first mistake was opening the door at all. My second one was opening it far enough to allow him a clear view of Sunday’s ass as she leans out the window. The minute he sets his beady eyes on her, the undisguised, greasy lust that settles over his features is puke-worthy.
“Well, well, what do we have here?” The tongue that slips out from between his wormy lips lingers too long to just be moistening them.
Sweet buttery Christ, the creepy fucker is actually salivating!
Adrenaline kicks in but