Page 3 of No Gemini Does it Better (BLP Signs of Love #2)

My stride halted at the edge of the woods, and I found myself staring at an apartment complex from about twenty feet away.

“Jackpot,” I mumbled.

Another branch snapped, and I jerked my neck in the direction of the sound over my shoulder. Another animal? The cops? Whatever the case, I had to keep moving. I was too close to having cover.

I raced across the field, keeping my head low and face shielded from the rain.

My shoes slopped with water as I drew up to the patio of an apartment on the first floor.

I quickly hopped over the railing and rooted my feet at the door.

The blinds were pulled back, and I could easily see inside, even though no lights were left on.

It didn’t look like anyone was home, which was better for me.

Without a second thought, I peeled off my white T-shirt, wrapped them around my hand for protection, and then busted the screen and glass, letting myself in.

The minute the glass shattered, I was met with the aggressive, yipping sound of a small brown dog who’d come barreling down the hallway with a great push of its legs.

“Fuck,” I muttered, bracing myself for its owner to be in tow.

I’d already had a hard enough day. I didn’t need to add bite marks from a rowdy wet rat of a dog to my list or catch another body.

The dog growled and howled at me, alerting its owner, who seemed to be nowhere around. “Yo, chill, mothafucka.” I hissed at it.

It responded with another growl while inching forward and then backward when I bucked at it with a clenched fist. The little nigga had the nerve to cock his fluffy ass head to the side while he barked, as if to ask me what the fuck I was doing in his house.

He was lucky I didn’t huff and puff and blow his ass over.

We had a silent standoff for a moment before I raced down the hall.

My drenched shoes slid against the aged hardwood floor, and I almost busted my ass.

I heard the pitter-patter of paws chasing after me, and I darted into the first room I saw.

Upon instinct, it followed me inside, and I quickly darted back out and slammed the door behind me to trap the mutt inside. Finally, a nigga could breathe.

I started by kicking off my wet shoes and peeling off the orange uniform bottoms along with my wet drawers and socks.

Everything sat in a crumpled pile on the floor while I walked around, scoping out the small place.

I felt like Goldilocks creeping through someone else’s home, but a nigga had to do what a nigga had to do.

I needed a place to stay overnight until the storm passed.

Hopefully, my brother had found somewhere to lay low too.

That annoying ass dog continued to howl on the other side of the door, scratching at it as if that would make me change my mind and let him out.

Hopefully, he’d tire himself out and shut the hell up sooner than later.

I flipped on a nearby light in the living room before heading down the hall toward the only bedroom inside the apartment, which meant I’d trapped the dog in the bathroom.

Shit. Hopefully, I didn’t have to piss anytime soon.

I continued into the bedroom. Although there was a pet in the home, the place smelled good as hell, like lemons and fresh linen.

I drew in a deep breath and closed my eyes for a split second.

Between that, the pink flowery comforter, and the living room decor that looked like it had come from a high-end thrift store, I knew the person who lived here had to be a woman.

I pulled open the nightstand drawer and saw a red rose vibrator lying inside.

I smirked to myself. Whoever lived here was single.

I marched into the closet, pausing when I found a safe in the back.

I didn’t touch it, figuring there was a 90 percent chance there was a burner in there.

A nigga wasn’t trying to go back to jail or have my face on a T-shirt.

Instead, I found a wooden baseball bat at her bedside, chuckling as I picked it up, just in case I was wrong about the owner being a female and had to cave a nigga’s face in.

My eyes traveled around the space—the perfectly made queen-size bed, the purple dog bed at the foot, and the tiny closet stuffed with modest work attire and heels that didn’t go over three inches.

Everything seemed to be organized, clean, and in its place.

It was a big ass difference from the bunk, razor-thin mattress, and aluminum toilet I’d called home over the years.

In a perfect world, the owner, whoever she was, would be away all weekend, and I could have the place to myself.

It would be a blessing not to have to go upside anybody’s head and just be able to lay low and chill while I figured out my next move.

Shit, I might’ve even slid the dog some food and water if his ass acted right.

I stepped outside the bedroom to see the stackable washer and dryer across the hall.

A slow smirk crept up one side of my mouth as I went to pick up my wet clothes.

A nigga could get use to this.