Page 86 of Goldilocks
“Sam?”
“I think there was a monster on the boat when you were a kid,” Sam said.
Silence.
The curtain dropped, the shadow disappearing behind the drapes. Panic jolted through Sam, and he dropped his phone, losing it as he twisted the key. His mom’s ancient car choked, but like it had a thousand times before, the reliable engine caught.
Through the roar of the engine, a fine, high-pitched sound reached Sam’s ears. His gaze jerked to the garden gate; he’d recognise that squeak anywhere. He saw a broad back. Shaved black hair.
Sam looked on, confused. Gary?
Garywas the intruder? Had Sam been imagining monsters where there was a man?
As he disappeared into Sam’s garden, he saw the bright red of a gasoline can.
Sam cursed under his breath, foreboding filling him to the brim. Beneath his foot, his phone buzzed. Dread coiled inside him, and Sam wanted to drive away. Leave. Let Gary do whatever he wanted with that gas can and get himself to safety. Because Sam knew it wasn’t Gary. Because the thing in his house scared him, and Sam wasn’t scared of Gary.
Sam shoved the car door open with a curse. He snatched his phone up from his feet and sprinted toward the garden. “Gary! Look, I don’t care what you’re planning to do, but it isn’t safe here.” Sam wildly tapped on his screen, trying to hit the answer button for Eric’s incoming call. He missed it as he shoved open the garden gate, which announced his presence with an ear-piercing squeak.
In the middle of his garden were half a dozen gasoline cans, and Gary was bent, adding another to the stack. He froze as Sam pushed open the gate, black eyes jumping to him. Surprise flitted through his expression, then anger, and then it all flattened out. There was something ominous about the way he straightened to his full height.
Sam stopped at the gate, but he directed his eyes toward the kitchen window. Unlike the windows at the front of the house, this one was impeccably clean. Sam always wiped both the inside and outside when he was home so his dad could watch the birds flying around the apple trees. That clean glass revealed an empty kitchen.
“Gary,” Sam said, controlling his voice. “We have to go. There’s someone dangerous in the house.”
Gary stared at him.
“I won’t even call the guards on you. I swear, I’ll forget all about this. We just need to go,” Sam insisted. Anxiety prickled over Sam’s skin like a physical sensation, his clothes feeling unbearably uncomfortable. He was hyperaware of the way his hair stuck to the back of his neck, overly conscious of his loud breaths, could feel how wide his eyes were.
Sam’s phone buzzed.
Automatically, Sam looked at it. Gary lunged forward. Sam jerked his head up, retreating a step, but he was too slow to dodge Gary’s charge. Sam raised both arms, only for them to get batted aside as Gary tackled him. They crashed into the garden wall, and Sam stumbled, falling sideways. His head cracked hard against the decorative garden stones lining the pathway, and he went still with a pained groan.
His eyes were open, but he couldn’t see anything, his vision blotted out in spots of white. Lethargically, he raised his arms, mumbling, “We have to go.” Or the slurred equivalent. Gary lifted himself from the ground next to Sam. Sam’s vision swayed into focus as Gary climbed to his feet.
The garden gate squeaked.
Gary turned toward it.
Sam’s vision blacked out, then back in. Someone loomed above him. The sun slid straight into his eyes from above, turning them into only an outline. Sam couldn’t distinguish anything but a hand reaching for his face.
Chapter Thirty-One
Sam’s head ached fiercely as he opened his eyes. Voices hummed around him, and bright lights hung above, glaring and intrusive. White walls surrounded him, a TV mounted on one side, a window dominating another. Empty single beds with trays of stainless steel filled the floor space. He was lying in a bed and crowded by several faces, only one of which he recognised.
“Connor?” Sam said, his voice heavy.
“Hey.” Connor sat sideways on the bed. “Good to see you waking up.”
A blond teenager hung off Connor’s arm, peering at Sam. When their eyes met, the teenager offered a small smile. “Morning, Sam,” the teenager whispered.
Sam studied the rest of the faces. A young man with red hair and green eyes with arms covered in tattoos sat on a chair next to Sam’s bed, and sitting by Sam’s feet was the most gorgeous man Sam had ever laid eyes on in his life – and that included any model or actor he’d ever seen on TV. Golden curls, full lips with a perfect cupid’s bow, even his irises were this shining gold, a perfect Roman nose, a lovely shaped throat – all of him was justwow.
With difficulty, Sam dragged his gaze back to Connor. “What’s going on?”
“We were hoping you would be able to tell us,” Connor said.
All Sam could tell anyone was that he was lying in a hospital bed with no idea of how he got there.