pick her up and carry her into the kitchen. As they went, Juliet let her eyes wander around the townhouse she’d been renting for a little over a year.
With its contemporary style and private rooftop veranda, the renovated space was nice. But even after all this time, it still didn’t feel like home.
Has anyplace ever felt like that to you?
When she was a young girl, maybe. But once she started getting older and was able to recognize when her parents were fighting or upset, her childhood home had felt more like a prison.
After she and her mother left, they’d rented a small apartment near Kansas City. A far cry from the million-dollar estate her father had built before she was born.
There was one time in her life—what felt like a lifetime ago—when Juliet had felt at home. But it wasn’t the house that had made her feel that way. It was the man she’d begun sharing it with.
Jay had made her feel at home. He’d made her feel...whole.
“Nope.” Juliet scratched Lydia behind her ears. “I’m not going there.”
With her chin jutted out and her shoulders straight, she went to the cabinet nearest Lydia’s dish and pulled out the bag of cat food. Once her food and water had been replenished, Juliet went in search of her own dinner.
Opening the refrigerator, she stared unimpressively at the foam container on the middle shelf. She thought of the frozen pizza in her freezer. “Which sounds better, Lydia? Leftover takeout or—”
Something creaked above her head, cutting through Juliet’s words. Frozen, she held her breath and waited.
Though the townhouse had been completely renovated prior to her moving in, the bones of the place were still original, as were the hardwood floors. She’d learned early on which places creaked when stepped upon, and one of those spots was upstairs, in her bedroom.
Right above where she was standing, now.
“Did you hear that?” Juliet looked down at Lydia. The cat had stopped eating and her tiny ears had perked up. “Yeah. You heard it, too, didn’t you?”
Her heartrate picked up its pace. The neighborhood was a quiet one on the outskirts of the city. Virtually no crime and very little traffic. Both major selling points when Juliet had first decided to relocate to Houston.
Still, low crime didn’t mean no crime. As a single woman living alone, she couldn’t take any chances. Especially one with a family as screwed up as hers.
If she’d learned anything from her vile father, it had been to trust her instincts...and no one else. She’d forgotten that rule only once, and the price of that lesson had been her heart.
Closing the stainless-steel door, Juliet slowly stepped away from the refrigerator. She picked up Lydia, as much for comfort as to protect her sweet cat and went for a small drawer nestled in the room’s large island.
Doing her best to move silently, she pulled the drawer open and reached for the Kel-Tech PF-9 pistol she kept hidden there for protection. Another lesson she’d learned from her mob boss father...always be prepared.
And prepared, she was.
Along with the nine-millimeter gun gripped tightly in her hand, there were three additional pistols, a shotgun, and several knives hidden around her place. And she knew how to use each and every one.
Sliding the drawer closed, Juliet waited and listened. At first, there was nothing, which made her think maybe she’d imagined the eerie sound. But when she heard the creak a second time, she knew she hadn’t.
With her heartbeat rushing through her ears, she slowly made her way out of the kitchen and to the winding staircase. Most women would probably take their cat and run, dialing nine-one-one as they fled to safety.
Juliet wasn’t most women.
In her socked feet, she was able to climb the steps without making a sound. She moved quickly, hoping to reach the top of the stairs before whoever had been stupid enough to break in came out of her bedroom. Thankfully, she did.
Steadily holding the gun in front of her with one hand, Lydia lay curled in the other, nestling her head against Juliet’s neck. Keeping her breathing steady and her footfalls silent, Juliet stopped to the side of her bedroom door and waited.
After several of the longest seconds of her life, a shadow appeared on the floor in front of the doorway. Her pulse spiked, and it became harder to breathe. If she’d had any doubts before, there were none present now. Someone else was in her home, and they most definitely had not